I watched the photographer work, his subject’s wrists and ankles cuffed and chained to the wooden baulks of a Saint Andrew’s Cross.
Naked, except for black holdup stockings, her pussy was waxed clean, and her golden hair framed a face scrunched in displeasure. My love, Lisa, was at work, modelling for a BDSM shoot.
“Try to smile, please, Lisa.”
A sort of forced rictus spread out from her lips. I knew she didn’t like bondage work, but the fee was too good to turn down, with a slot already booked for a high-profile porn site.
The camera clicked incessantly while the photographer moved around, constantly imploring her to smile, frown, look here, there, up, and down. As an observer, I thought it was the most unsexy experience imaginable. Lisa looked bored, and I was impatient for the job to be done.
Eventually, he put down the camera and switched off the set lighting before turning to me with a wide grin and then leaving the studio.
“Where’s he gone, Stan? I want out of this.”
My impatience came from the dastardly plan I had hatched with the photographer. The scene might not have been a turn-on, but my plans certainly were. I had been salivating all the way through, my cock hard in my trousers.
As I walked over to her, she twisted her neck, following my progress with her eyes. Standing directly behind her, with her buttocks just touching my trousered thighs, I stretched forward and kissed her on the lips. Lisa responded, as she always did, opening up to let my tongue into her mouth.
Breathing heavily, I broke the kiss.
“Please get him to release me, Stan.”
I shook my head, placed my hand on her buttocks, and then slipped it between her thighs, searching for her pussy lips.
“You’re wet. Lisa. I thought you didn’t like bondage.”
“It turned me on having you watch, but now I want to go home and let you fuck me.”
My finger slid up and down her slit, then inside her hole, working her juice up and over her stiffening clit. Each time I touched her little shaft, she shuddered and flexed against the restraints.
“Please, Stan.”
Her pleading was unmistakable.
“Please, what, Lisa?”
“Make me cum; I need it.”
My finger worked over her clit; the motion turned circular, putting constant pressure on her sensitive head. Lisa’s breathing became laboured, her body squirming against the bonds. My gaze fixed into the depths of her eyes as I carried her nearer to the peak.
“Look at me, Lisa; I want to see your eyes.”
Like a good slut, she tried her best, but eventually her body succumbed to its base need, her eyeballs rotated up, and I was left looking at two white eyes before stepping away, leaving her completely isolated from my touch.
If she had not been bound, her body would have jerked and rolled, but cuffed into place, she was limited to vast shudders ripping through her with every muscle in spasm. Her mouth was wide open, as if to scream, but the only sound she made was a series of low grunts that accompanied the orgasmic jolts coursing from her clit to her brain.