Delaying just a moment, he brushed her lush, curly hair from her face and kissed her temple, “Good girl,” he complimented so approvingly. Though all she felt next were his fingers, gingerly undoing the buttons of her blouse, until her heavy breasts fell free, exposed to the warm air of the bunker, the garment left to hang open beside them.
He didn’t say anything more, but she could hear the light sounds of his movement as he went away, the shuffle of some materials as he retrieved something. Time seemed to stretch and she didn’t hear him return when she felt that first light sensation. It was just a tickle, something so light, it couldn’t even have been his fingers like the last time he’d made her bend over the table and shut her eyes. It trailed along her cheek at such a slow pace.
There was a slight twitch at the corner of her lips, uncertain and cautious. She didn’t know what was happening, or even if she felt it at all. It was almost as though in the absence of sensation, her body was making things up. Phantom touches. She could feel her breasts, gravity tugging at them lightly and making her more aware of their presence, the open shirt feeling almost itchy against her back.
Then the tickle upon her cheek faded away, and she was unsure. It was then the same sensation began to build upon her forearm, such a faint tickle that was trailing up towards her bicep. Then, as if it were crawling beneath her shirt, it went up the sleeve only to stop.
She swore she could hear him move then, so close to her, and the faint sensation travelled to her neck. It shimmied down, over her throat and towards her collarbone, carrying on until it was upon her breast. It was almost like an itch and she wanted so badly to scratch it, especially as it eked its way towards her sensitive areola, tantalizing her nipple as it brushed against her there fully.
She knew it was him. It had to be. It was so practiced and smooth, and she wanted to tell him to stop playing games with her and just hold her but instead she remained still, fighting the urges in her muscles. They wanted to clench, to tighten, but as her nipple stiffened, she couldn’t help but gasp.
There was no telling how he moved so quietly, or kept his presence hidden from her, but after that gasp she felt the sensation of his breath, his words upon her ear before anything else. “I told you to be a good girl and not make a sound,” came that harsh, authoritarian voice. “Are you saying you’re not a good girl?” he asked so coarsely, “Are you sayin’ you’re a dirty slut instead?”
That dark voice of his was so delectable when he spoke like that, it got so husky and hard, it was pure masculinity, and it could frighten as well as charm.
She left her lips parted, not even daring to close them after her ‘outburst’. She could feel him so near to her and she just wanted to hold him, to feel his mouth on hers, and she resisted the urge to make a face at his crass words. She’d gotten used to it, in some more primal sense, and associated the words with sex. With intimacy and with him. It sent a thrill down her spine even as she mentally chided him, but she tried desperately not to move.
Cassidy couldn’t stand to disappoint him.
“No?” he husked once more, and that strong hand of his was on one of her breasts. No longer the light tickle, this was a hard grasp, and he kneaded the flesh as if he were trying to milk the teat roughly. It lasted just a moment before he released, the vulgar grab and twist so rough before he asked, “So are you a good girl or a dirty slut? Which is it, girl?” he spoke so harshly, her breast still swaying from that rough hold.
She didn’t know what he wanted from her and she couldn’t help the way her face tensed up, her muscles tightening down her spine. She just wanted him to be happy, to love her. Lip trembling, she still didn’t answer him, unsure if this was what he meant by saying it was okay to speak. It was too much, the uncertainty so intense, but still she wanted to please him.
It must have worked for she heard nothing until the low muttering of, “That’s more like it,” and a soft kiss upon her curly blonde hair.
Everything was still again after that, nothing breaking the silence. The first sensation she felt was so much different than the last, this time it was like a breeze wafted beneath her skirt, but she knew the bunker was still. So still. The cool air breezed up over her bare thighs and ass, grazed her nude slit.
She’d gotten used to the sensation of being without her underthings, but never had she felt so exposed as she did then. It was shocking and scandalous, and she thought she felt her body quake but it might have been her mind playing tricks on her. Her lashes blinked against the blindfold as if it might help her see, but there was only darkness beyond.
Darkness and that feeling of air against her moist sex, her body already trained to respond for him so intimately, so readily.
The absence of that sensation was almost more pronounced than the cool breeze itself, and it was only when the tickling light brush grazed over her damp petals that sensation returned. There, however, it was so much easier to feel. The nerves of her womanhood were so primed and sensitive; nothing could escape their notice, certainly not that delicate little tickle as it made its way down her puffy labia towards the crack of her ass.
She tried to control her breathing, but she couldn’t help that it became more shallow, more rapid and intense as he did what he liked with her body, torturing her with the light sensations. She just wanted what she knew; his hard body, his rough words, and the longer she was without them the more lost she felt.
But the more he teased her, the more her body responded. He was taking her higher, to a place she’d never gone before. The longer she went without sensation, the more extreme the light tickles, the cool breeze felt. Every little piece of movement was causing her to come alive, and no longer was the hardness against her knees or the weight of her breasts a cause for pain or discomfort. It was something grounding her, holding her in place so that she wouldn’t float off with the amazing pleasures that those caresses were giving her.
She made it through such a long spell of those subtle, delicate tortures, and when at last he left her quim be, it pulsed with heated desire unfulfilled. To be left alone again after that with no sensation, no hard flesh of his body to quell her yearnings, it was torture.
When his touch did resume again though, it was a hand on her breast. Not rough like the last time, but gentle, his coarse fingers stroking the smooth, milky white flesh affectionately as it dangled beneath her, pulled by gravity so deliciously.
Her face was contorted with that perfectly orchestrated torture. He was playing her body so well, forcing her to places she never dreamed existed in all her most desperate, longing and lonely of days. It was almost too much, and the strain of staying still was wearing on her.
Cassidy’s muscles began to tighten, her arms and wrists burning as her nipples elongated and hardened against his knuckles. She didn’t want to be bad, but the sensations were all so overwhelming, and her clit pulsed between her thighs so needfully. She wanted to beg him to stop playing with her, to simply make love to her, but a deep down part of herself that had laid dormant through her teenage years was rebelling against her desperate, demanding mind.
It wanted this. It wanted that beautiful torture, the long, drawn out session and the teasing, ticklish touches. It revelled in his prolonged attention, and it forced her to keep still. To get through this next second without moving, and then the next, even as her breath quickened.
As she was lost in that conflict his touch slipped away yet again, and she was left devoid of sensation. Then she felt it, a soft, moist touch of flesh to her lips. A kiss. So slight, so gentle, it was the most delicate one he’d ever given her. Barely there and then it was gone.
His strong hand was then upon the back of her thigh, sliding up, pushing her pleated skirt with it as he stroked his touch upon her ass cheek. She was on display for him, and he was so slowly—so cruelly—toying with her, experiencing her.
That touch too ended, and harkening back to her lips she felt damp flesh to her mouth again. This time, however, it was different. It wa
s the smell that tipped her off first. For it was accompanied by the heady aroma of his masculinity, and the slick flesh grazed over her lips so slightly.
It stunned her for a moment. The sensation, the way it felt and tasted was unlike anything else, and he stole her breath away. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do, and she tried to quell the tremors that ran through her body, the fear of disappointing him making her quake.
She silently pleaded with him to tell her what to do. She could do whatever he asked, she was certain of it, but she had to know what he wanted.
He never did though. Instead he just lightly dragged that firm, fleshy crown along her lips, smearing the taste of salty pre-come upon her mouth, revelling in the plush feel of her against his manhood. When she resisted the urge to react—to do anything—his hand grasped her jaw, pushed open her mouth and kept it fixed straight.
Still not a word from him, not even as—with her mouth forced wide open—he slid that gargantuan girth into her, resting its heavy weight against her tongue to throb with need.
Her eyes widened under that blindfold, her expression incredulous, though to him she just looked wide mouthed and silenced by his cock. It was a pretty sight, her pink lips spread around his thick, throbbing dick, the black fabric shielding her eyes from him. It was almost comforting, not to see him for that moment, to just be able to taste his cock for the first time and not have to worry about anything else.
Still, it was so dirty. So improper, but yet, she’d lost so much of her primness, her pretensions about sex and his body. She couldn’t shake the sensation of just how filthy this made her, though, and her body began to gently rock, her breasts swaying beneath her as that fleshy pink tongue swiped against the underside of his veiny member.
It elicited a groan from the large man, that feel of her tongue and mouth moving upon his impressive girth, and then she felt his hands at either side of her head. He stilled her forcibly, not taking much of his impressive strength to do so, and leaned down, his dark, commanding voice rumbling out over her ear.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he husked, “that was your final test. And you failed it,” he admonished, his cock slipping back out until the crown dangled on the end of her bottom lip.
Her mouth quivered and her face fell, disappointment rolling over her body so noticeably. That one little thing, that one admonishment crippled her and yet she still wouldn’t move, still wouldn’t speak. There had to be another chance!
His fingers sunk in through her curly locks, gripping them as he took hold of her head. “I was seconds away from pulling out and telling you what a good, good girl you were,” he said, “instead... you proved you’re really a dirty little slut.” The words sounded so harsh, and he punctuated them by thrusting that girth back into her mouth, hard and fast.
It was something fully new to her, and he kept her head in place as he began to pump that shaft into her mouth, spreading those pink lips so lewdly wide. “Just seconds away from such a special reward,” he insisted, grunting as his heavy, weighty ball sac slapped up against her chin and neck as the pushes came on fast, and that bulging, wide crown pushed towards her throat.
She whimpered against him, pleading silently as that large member kept her from protesting. She wasn’t dirty! She wasn’t a slut! Her eyes watered behind the blindfolds, and she wanted so desperately to make him happy. But what if it was too late? She’d already disappointed him, all because she couldn’t help but have a taste of that thick cock, that large member he’d so teasingly thrust into her.
It wasn’t her fault, she told herself! She couldn’t have helped that, and she had been so good. All throughout those teasing breezes of air and feather she hadn’t budged, but the second he gave her that cock, and it had become too much. She wanted him, desperately, to fulfill her needs. Needs she hadn’t even really known she had until him.
The assault didn’t end though, thick hard meat stabbing its way into her mouth and taunting her throat as he said such filthy things to her.
“Pretty little girl just can’t help herself from tasting that hard dick.” Each couple of words were punctuated with a slap of his heavy balls against her chin and throat. They were so weighty it was like a slap each time he thrust in.
He did it so long, and she could barely breath, it made her mouth water and she drooled upon his cock, coating it in such slick, viscous saliva as he pumped seemingly forever. When finally, at long last, he eased off and his filthy admonishments of what a dirty slut she was ended, and he slid his length from her, she could feel movement before her, hearing some weight motion. “You ready to make it up to me?” he husked so harshly, “Make up for being such a filthy little cock-slut by doing what you’re fucking told for once?”
She wanted to scream, to cry out and tell him that she was sorry, to make him forgive her, but her throat was raw and she was still gagging for breath. Tears soaked into the black fabric of her blindfold and she tried to blink them away to no avail. She didn’t want him to be mad at her!
Her body rocked atop the table, quaking as she tried to hold back her desire to leap to his arms and bury his face in kisses and beg for forgiveness. Her ass wiggled before him, her puffy lips so red and swollen with her lust for him, her need for his physical comfort.
She didn’t get it though.
Instead he husked, “Good,” either not seeing her desperate wiggle or ignoring it, and he buried his cock back into her mouth. He kept himself there, so deep in her mouth as he ordered her around. “I’m gonna bust my load in your mouth to sate that fucking cock-thirst you have, slut. And you’re gonna swallow it all, or else,” he warned and immediately began to pump her mouth again.
He was so large, it strained her jaw to take him so, but this time it didn’t go on so long, and with such a mighty groan he clutched her head and hair and rocked his shaft into her as he came, pushing her nose to his tuft of black pubic hair. The flood of salty white seed jetted into her throat, and then as he pulled back, it coated her tongue in seemingly endless waves.
It was so much, and he’d never taught her this before—never used her like this before—so it was hard to keep up as he pulled back, spurting the last of his seed into her mouth and upon her pouty lips with such relish.
She sputtered, the natural reaction of her gag reflex instinctually fighting against her desire to please him, and as the tears rolled down the outside of her nose, down past her cheeks and onto those puffy, abused lips, she licked her mouth so readily. She couldn’t tell if she was crying because of some natural reaction to her gag reflex being triggered or if it was fear and anguish at disappointing him, but she was desperate to make it up to him.
Her body wanted his so badly, and as she felt that raw ache in the back of her throat, she choked out a groaned sob, trying to swallow his cum, trying so wantonly to please him.
There was silence for a while, but as she struggled to satisfy his commands and lick up and swallow all of his salty seed, he stroked her hair then bent over, kissing her forehead. “That’s better,” he complimented. “I knew you could be a good girl if you’d get your hunger for cock satisfied.”
He withdrew from her, and she heard him move around towards her back end. “You think you earned a reward?” he asked, his questions endless traps for her, as she’d never been told to answer yet.
She tried to still her squirming, but she was past the point of being able to control herself. Her entire body was quivering on the table, the intensity of what he’d just done to her completely overwhelming her and making her dumb. She couldn’t answer. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t earn his rebukes and harsh tones again.
She earned his approval though, and those hard hands of his stroked the backs of her thighs, giving the flesh a bit of a squeeze. “You’re still learning,” he said, “but you’re doing so good,” he complimented, his approval thick on that rich, dark voice of his.
There wasn’t much time to bask in it though, for the faint feel of her skirt being lifted was foll
owed with something else. Something far more intimate. A moist lick upon her puffy, needy folds drew her attention to the heart of her womanhood as he licked at her sodden pussy. The motions were slow, but so firm, so precise. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before to feel that wide, flat tongue of his press to her clit and slide about it in a long lap, then another, and another.
He had worked her small body into such a frenzy with his touch that her nerves were instantly on fire against his mouth. She couldn’t contain that whimper, that moan that started deep in her chest and rolled past her swollen throat. She couldn’t stop herself from pushing back into him, just that fraction of an inch, her body begging for more even as she felt like she couldn’t take it.
She was already so close to that point of ecstasy, but he was taking her beyond it, somewhere she had never experienced. The sensations in her body, the lack of her sense of sight just made it all the sweeter, but his praise was what stayed with her the longest.
With his strong hands gripping her thighs, Leon kept her in place and continued to tongue her sensitive folds. He was experienced, he knew her body better than she could hope to, and the way he prodded her to such fiery life, making that sensitive little bud scream in joyous pleasure was amazing.
He never let up, not even for a moment, just continued to firmly lap and stroke over her slit, tasting her femininity as he brought her body to such shuddering heights. His thumbs kept her ass cheeks pried as he knelt behind her, face buried in her damp cunt as he gave such a husky, rumbling groan that shivered and shook her quim.
She’d only once dared to touch herself before he came into her life, and instantly she had regretted it. The feeling was unpleasant and strange, and the guilt was powerful. What he was doing to her, though, was something out of this world. It was beyond compare, and she’d never known that it could feel like this. That her body could sing, and shudder and moan with such splendour and desire.
She quaked against him, and a strange sound came from her throat, part moan and part surprised gasp, her eyes widening underneath that dark mask and seeing nothing but stars as he took her over the edge.
Bound as the World Burns: A Post Apocalyptic BDSM Romance Page 8