I have no idea how she's going to explain this to her husband. The rope marks around her wrists and ankles would be difficult enough, but at least they'll fade in a day or two. What I'm about to do to her wriggling form will last weeks.

With one limb tethered to each of the bedposts, she tests the bonds that snap taut and slacken as she responds to the barest brushes of my fingertips across her body. The nipples I skim are pink and erect. Biteable. They perch atop soft mounds that both sport reddening handprints. When turned on, she likes it a little rough. Her sculpted shoulders are partially obscured by inky hair, tousled by her thrashing head.

Goosebumps rise on her forearm beneath my fingers as I trace freckles before skimming her belly, then continue down to the wet curls between her thighs. Her sweet musk still dances across my tongue and nose. I bask in her essence as I take in her spread beauty, working my digits down her leg.

Desire swamps common sense in the same way lust eclipsed guilt. Piper occupies almost exactly the space my wife did a short while earlier. Just one length of rope, two hours, and a whole world of wicked imagination separate the women. Remarkably similar in physical appearance, the real differences begin inside. My wife represents calm beauty inside and out. Piper is a delicious cyclone of pure filth wrapped in a summer's day.

I scratch a fingernail across her instep. It's almost a shame she can't see me. The folded chiffon strip of fabric keeps her from knowing what I'll do next.

The sheets rustle as I kneel up between her thighs and stroke one using the back of my fingertips first, then the pads. She moans and rolls her hips until I glide my hand to cup the springy triangle of dark hair at her centre. The dappled droplets of desire that cling around the entrance to her slit smear across my fingers before I dip them inside.

The curtains pulled across the nearby open window dampen her long groan, though I expect anyone passing close enough might still wonder. I curl my fingers into her silky channel and withdraw. I have her close. Very close. The beg forms on her lips a heartbeat before the word follows.

"Please..."

I leave it a silent count of two before answering, to let her think I'm considering. She comes easily and often when I let her. When I make her. Today, I've so far denied her any release.

"Not yet."

Slithering back off the bed, I pad naked from the room. I know every creak of the cupboards in the en suite and every clink of the bowls in the kitchen will pique her interest. Make her mind race. The clatter of ice into the jug will surely raise her anticipation but it's the scent of sandalwood and rose that will greet her as I carry the steaming bowl to the bedside.

Wringing out the soft washcloth in the scented water, I climb back between her thighs and cover her pussy with it. Leave it there to warm her as I prepare. Her hips sway against the sheets when she tests the unforgiving bonds once more, and I warn:

"Keep still."

Squirting a palmful of cool gel, I fold the washcloth in half to reveal the right of her bush before massaging it into her. The strong scent lifts as the lather increases, white foam catching in her pubic hair, matting strands and curls that I twirl beneath my searching fingertips.

I reach over the edge of the bed. Water drips back into the bowl as I shake, before placing the razor to the top of her mons. I pause a fraction just to tease her. Then execute one long, smooth stroke to carve a stripe through the downy thatch, cleanly exiting at her thigh.

Excitement twists in my stomach as she gasps. "God!"

Returning the blade to the top of her mound, I drag south again, widening the bare strip. Rinse. Shake off. The water splishes. It's the only other sound in the room besides her laboured breathing. A stray droplet lands in the foamy mess just before I broaden the path further.

The razor contours into her cleft, a breath away from her clit as it glides downward, leaving smooth pink skin in its wake. My fingers stretch her flesh taut as I swish down her delicate folds, retracing my steps until no hint of roughness remains on this side.

Letting go, I sit back to appraise my work. Her breathing remains uneven, her body tense as I take in her beautiful lips, slightly swollen from the friction. Water droplets roll, mingling with her now dripping desire.

I swirl the razor slowly in the bowl, rock hard cock twitching as another wave of her arousal hits me. Blindfolded, she has no fucking clue how close I am to snapping and burying my face back into her wet snatch until she's begging me to stop.

Steeling myself, I take a deep breath. Focus.

"Show me your ass."

Piper rolls her hips upward as far as the bonds allow. I start at her bottom, the razor slipping between her parted buttocks to remove any strands from her crease and around her knot. As the blade scrapes back up, I hear her whimper and take a moment to study the way she worries her lower lip, cheeks flushed with self-conscious desire.

Plastic bites my fingers and I force myself to release the death grip on the razor. Fuck, all the things we've done and this makes her blush? I have to know.

"Has he ever done this?" I don't mean it to be unkind.

Her voice is soft. Unsteady with arousal. "No. He's never asked and I've never asked him to."

My eyes gleam possessively. Another thing that's ours.

Lifting the washcloth from her unshaven side, I use it to wipe any foam remnants from the freshly smooth half. I squirt more gel, taking a little longer to rub it in to the remaining curls than is strictly necessary. My thumb brushes her clit and she gasps again, her body arching towards me.

The way she reacts to my touches keeps me hard, even though I haven't touched myself since I started tormenting her. I've never been with a woman so responsive to my touch, which I admit is part of the turn on. My wedding ring glints in the low light as I splay the fingers of my left hand and pull her lips taut again. I stare at the gold band a moment as I ready the blade. It was a promise I meant at the time.

She stills at the hard edge of the razor on skin, her moan matching the length of the next stroke down through her patch of hair. Again and again I swipe over her delicate skin, each emerging pinkened strip making me salivate.

As I tuck the razor between her buttocks once more I slow, drawing out the torment and skimming it gently around her ring even once she's completely smooth, just to make sure she feels everything. My thumb follows the line of her crease, slick with foam and arousal until I brush the knot of her ass and tease it.

Skimming her dark entrance, I flit my fingertip side to side, up and down, then in concentric circles until I eventually zero on the tantalising little hole. I know I should resist, but my willpower dissolves with the foam beneath my finger. I have to hear her cuss.

The tiniest wiggle against her tightness has my heart thumping. More as my fingernail disappears, worming deeper a millimetre at a time. Her star grips me with each strained breath and I forge inside on every exhalation, creeping until the second knuckle prepares to breach.

Pausing, I massage inside with just the pad. Gauge her arousal by the sharpness of her breaths and rivulets of clear honey that seep from her snatch to split and roll either side of my digit.

Drawing out a fraction, my finger becomes coated with the glint of her juices and I push in. She gasps at the suddenness as I'm swallowed, three-quarters buried. And there it is:

"Fuck."

The head of my cock swells. Such a perfect vowel, the need heartfelt and dripping more than her pussy that releases a trickle of cream. With my free hand I swipe the filmy trail before it can be lost to the bedsheets, swing it to my nose and inhale. Dab the tiniest dot to the stubble beneath it so her fresh scent pervades my senses, then reach out to hover my finger pad over her open mouth.

Almost in slow motion the dew stretches under its own weight, forming a teardrop, a stalactite, a translucent needle before snapping. It catches the inside of her lower lip and she groans as her taste slips into her throat. She swallows. I wriggle my finger in her ass.

Her groan escalates, fingers flexing a futile dance beyond where the rope encircles her wrists. I relent and gradually withdraw with a grin, wiping the remaining foam so I can fully study my work. Beautiful. Bare swollen lips. Slightly pink. So sensitive. She sighs as I trace a finger over her.

There's still a little hair left. A few tufts either side of her clitoral hood. This is where trust peaks and she knows it, tensing as I squeeze a fingertip full of gel and massage it in, grazing either side of her proud nub. She inhales with each brush, then gasps as my middle finger covers the tip and presses the slippery button to protect it.

Fingers either side spread her lips and I dab the razor into the water, then bring it up to drip into the foam.

"Just a little to go."

I need to angle the blade differently here. Glide outward. Occasionally up to tuck into the creases at the apex of her lips until she's totally, deliciously bare. She rewards my meticulous patience with a further drizzle of fluid from her shaven snatch and it takes every ounce of resolve not to lap it up.

Putting the razor aside, I sluice the washcloth in the warm water and rinse away stray hair and foam from her beautiful cunt. That's what it is now. Not a pussy but a hot, dripping, mouth-watering, wet cunt. Uncapping the massage oil, I shake a few drops into my palms, warming them before rubbing the balm over her skin to ward off any irritation. Ice cracks in the jug as I lean over to set the oil on the bedside table. As much as I'm looking forward to her reaction to the cold, I have to taste her.

My first kiss lands just below the shallow indent of her navel, her skin warm, almost impossibly soft. I work my way lower, settling myself on my front between her legs, my stubble scuffing flesh usually protected by her curls. The heat emanating from between her parted thighs and scent of her arousal is intoxicating from up close, and for a moment I just breathe her in.

Her nude lips shine. I watch hungrily as arousal oozes from her succulent slit, extending my tongue to capture pearly drops of liquid nectar. I lap at her smooth folds, my tongue sliding effortlessly between them as her sweet, tangy taste explodes in my mouth once again.

Fuck, she's exactly my flavour. Exotic promise and untapped desire. I press forward, nose nudging her protruding clit as I smoosh my face into her slick heat, tongue laving her like I'm a man starving. I want to go slow, but it's become impossible. I need her come. Crave it.

Piper's helpless whimpers become the soundtrack to her destruction, washing over me as I take her higher with each lap of my tongue, each graze of my teeth over her clit. Mad with the taste, I splay the fingers of one hand to frame her clit and slide two from the other inside her, crooking up against her buttery walls, beckoning the climax closer.

She doesn't disappoint. Tenses. Arches against the restraints, whimpers deepening to a drawn-out throaty moan, her body vibrating under me as my mouth clamps her clit, tongue fluttering over the sensitive nub until she's a writhing, wriggling mess and I'm drowning in the copious juices my fingers tease from her insides.

I drink. Eager, as if she's the only source of fluid on Earth. Her moans form a long heartfelt curse; the only other discernible word being my name, ensuring my leaking cock twitches in anticipation of taking her. Possessing her.

God, I could leave her on this knife-edge all night long, mindless pleasure flitting over those pretty features, her eyes dying to focus on me, aching to surrender herself to the moment. It's the trust. Knowing that she lets me take her there that undoes me each time. The sheer joy and abandon that she allows me to share right before I slip inside her swollen twitching walls and claim her completely.

Soon I shall take her.

But not right now. Right now I have another prize to redeem. Her body arcs as far as the bonds allow, teetering on the brink; that cusp where everything narrows and she's desperate to come, but desperate to hold on. I still my movements, irregular breaths less than an inch from my buried digits, letting her dictate what she needs. Her hips jolt forward, grind against my face one last time and she comes, spasming cunt clamping around my fingers as her juices leak out around them.

I'm in heaven. Her wetness tumbles past my fingers into my waiting mouth, warm and fragrant, pulsing until I'm saturated, drowning in her essence. My unmoving fingers are clenched in her rhythm, her body riding out the climax for as long as it takes. I'm content to share in her glow until she relaxes, limp against the tousled sheets.

This time when she says my name, it's on a soft sigh, and my need for her crashes to the forefront. I crawl up over her body, knees between hers, forcing them wider, grip my cock in my fist and feed it into her still twitching cunt.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting for control as her glossy channel vices around me. Fuck she's tight. I love taking her when she's just come, when she's swollen and warm and wet. I lift the blindfold from her eyes to let her see just what she does to me before I crush my lips to hers, sharing her taste as we fuck.

My rhythm falters, too aroused to last long inside her. I bury my face in her neck and let go with muted groans, balls tightening, spunk rocketing deep, filling her with hot, pulsing jets.

Our hips grind and roll, bodies quivering as we ride our climaxes to completion. The moment stretches, elastic and sensual as the heat of our union dissipates between us. It rolls through our bodies as one, the connection strengthened by our hearts thumping close.

I rise from her on my forearms. Gaze into her eyes and we share a smouldering kiss, insides fizzing from the sparks. Reaching up, I tug the knots free from her wrists, running fingertips over the marks that'll still be visible by the time she sits for dinner with her husband.

Crawling behind her, I pull her into my arms. My fingers entwine with hers, gold clinking against platinum as we lie, drifting. Mine. At least for now.

Ice breaks the silence, cracking again in the jug. I grin behind her back. My cock stirs against her at the thought of reaching for a cube and dripping the freezing liquid across her newly shaved mound. Hardens at anticipating the noises she'll make. The groans and screams. The begging for release.

I nibble her earlobe, then gently bite it.

"Round two?"