The insistent buzz of the toy accelerated, tearing through my pussy and taking my breath away. I writhed against the bonds, knees scissoring, knots forming inside my belly like those that secured my wrists behind the wooden chair. I squeezed my thighs together in an attempt to dull the ache that had threatened to rip me in two for what seemed like hours. Rope bit into my ankles as I twisted against the chair legs.
He eased off the throttle. I could see him in my mind's eye, somewhere in the hotel suite beyond the blindfold and discarded evening dress, delighting at my predicament. His gaze wandering my curves, remaining black negligee contrasting the milky white of delicately perfumed skin. Perhaps leaning against the four-poster in that tailored Hugo Boss suit, tie loosened around his neck below prickly stubble that left rashes where good girls shouldn't have them.
I was a good girl.
Once.
Before I allowed myself to be seduced by his chiselled avatar. His words. His manner. Led astray from my inattentive husband; passing ships and separate beds. Familiar, safe, yet unfulfilling. Weekends play-acting the marriage charade bookended work travel, staying in hotels that featured intense, magical, breathless, sleep-deprived nights with him.
Sir.
My pussy walls tingled, the frequency of the purple toy increasing once more. Creeping faster in sync with his finger sliding up his phone screen. Teasing. The urge to pee grew again and I clamped my thighs shut around the device that delivered so much delicious torture. The buzz spiked and spasms gripped my abdomen as if I'd been electrocuted, my bottom arching off the seat as far as the bonds allowed.
Fear gripped me. What if I came? What would he do to me then? I fought with every ounce of remaining strength. Squeezed my eyes shut behind the mask until the insistent scratching inside my dripping channel dissipated, reduced to a low throb.
I thought I'd been clever, mind over matter, but he'd reduced the power. Bastard. Knew I was close, playing me like his private orchestra. I strained against my bindings, longing to touch myself. To ease the insane need that fluttered, eddied and clutched every fibre of my twitching body.
In the darkness, all I had were thoughts driven by the pulsing phallus. Flashes of strong hands and fabulous cock stretching my mouth, pussy, and tight arse. Desire and forbidden pleasure explored as I obeyed without question. His plaything. Malleable. Subservient. Soaked.
The device sped up, making me wriggle, accelerating towards orgasm.
Slowed, making me groan.
Rhythmically changed pace: fast, slow, faster, until I didn't know where my body ended and the room began.
God, I wanted to come. Drool formed in my mouth and I tried to articulate Please but my balled up panties prevented the desperation from escaping with any coherency.
"What's that?" His tone was cocky, gravelly. I shivered. Something about the resonance in his baritone made me drip.