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He pinched her nipple and watched as the aureola puckered and remained for seconds before relaxing back into her breast. The nipple stayed erect and wanting. It reached for his fingers. Stretched for his mouth. He could feel the saliva building as he watched it. Another pinch and this time it wavered a little. Wiggled at him. The stiff nipple begged his mouth.

The thought of how it would feel under his tongue, swirled in his mouth and teased between his lips taunted him. His fingers curved around her breast and hefted the weight. Tapped at the smooth skin. It felt so delicate and fit so perfectly in his palm. He could spend hours toying with her curve. Another pinch and this time the nipple pulled so taut that it looked like it would never go back and she moaned. A long, low, lustful moan he could feel through his groin. He felt his cock lurch against the fabric of his pants.

Her shirt was unbuttoned, her breasts bared, her arms tied above her head. The nipples were hard and jutting at him. They made him think how it would feel as they rubbed across his chest. Back and forth or up and down as she moved against him. The way they would draw circles and poke at him. How they would push into his mouth.

She moaned again and he felt an answering groan urge from his crotch. His balls drew up in need, then released to sway heavy as his member jolted. He thought of pushing the sides of her tits together around his hardness and pumping. Forcing his cock up the center of her chest and sliding between her mounds. She would poke at it with her tongue each time up and even grab at it with her lips, nibble and suck. Strain to keep it even as it pulled away.

The memory of fucking her tits made his member give a particularly painful throb and he pressed in close to her. He moved in until he felt the poking in his chest. Her nipples were staying rigid now and her moans were enticing liquid feelings from his insides. His hands moved over her globes again and pinched the tips. They responded with tingles he sensed and moans he heard.

Her pants were still on and he pressed his fingers to her center, felt the moisture through the cloth. She was soaked! She moaned louder and more urgently. His fingers pushed harder, threatened to enter her through the layers of clothing. Her moans came more urgently than ever and punctuated with sighs and squeals. The hand moving over the flesh of her back moved around and pinched the right nipple again. This elicited a half scream.

He moved closer still and pressed harder with his fingers, felt the nub of her sex and the wet of her desire. His hardness bore into her hip and he bent his head to her neck. When his lips touched, she shrieked “Oh!”. Pushed her flesh at his lips, moaned and thrashed against the bindings holding her wrists above her head. Her nipples poked at him all the harder. His other hand moved up her back, feeling and testing the muscles. He squeezed the taut skin and smoothed the bulges and knots. She was moaning wantonly now. Lascivious utterings that struck at his core. It was pure strength of effort that kept him from ripping her pants down and grabbing her ass to ram into her. Great animal thrusts that would lift her from her feet and cause her to wrap her legs around him in a desperate clinging that would leave them both spent in minutes.

He wanted hours, though, and would bear his ache as best he could. Hardest for him, was the way her moans would wrench his gut or her sighs would cut into his will. His hands were free over her skin. Tensing, touching and tenting folds of her smooth skin, pinching and tweaking the parts of her that begged for attention; her nipples, shoulders, lips, scalp.

Each time his fingers squeezed together, she would moan or squeal or shriek. Every sound from her was met with an answering throb of ache and need from his rock hard cock. He pressed it into her. She felt it clearly through their clothes, sticking into her, heightening her need.

Hours, he’d said. The time between that first touch walking in the door and the moment she finally gets relief from her agony of want. His hand reached to her just in the door, grasped her fingers and brought her into sweet embrace. His lips met hers without prelude and the thrill shooting through her at his insistence left her panties wetter than even all the thoughts and envisionings she’d had throughout the day had made them.

She’d changed underwear just before coming over, but they were already wet again. Despite the nervousness and the hesitancy, her need drove her into frenzy and distraction. She could barely wait to leave work and be on her way, yet her fingers shook as she buttoned her coat and her knees trembled as she tried to walk sedately out to her car.

The time before she was to be at his door moved in fits and jerks. She was shakily walking to her car, then she was fumbling the key into her lock. She waited an eternity to get ready and suddenly couldn’t get her shirt buttoned fast enough to leave on time. Checking one last time to be sure she’d done all he asked and wore everything he demanded, she left a minute and a half late and found herself Betist jogging to the car. Punctuality was important to him, at least, he stressed specifics of when she would be where for him, so she assumed it was important to him. She’d never consciously disappoint him. At least, she never had yet and didn’t want to.

If asked, she couldn’t tell you why she would so willingly do anything to please him. She would say that it was because he demanded this of her. She might say that he pleased her so much she would do anything to bring the same delight to him. She may say that she feared the punishment for failing him (though she would feel her panties soak at the thought of what he might do to her). The truth is that she had no idea, really, as to why she so explicitly and consciously followed his every direction — even when it made her uncertain and nervous.

Even now, hanging from a hook on the door in his room, her wrists locked together over her head and shoulders tiring, her body’s every nerve shooting fire and jabbing shocks into her with his every pinch, shocking her with the tease of his fingertips, she dreaded what will be asked of her next while she craved more and more. He pinched her left nipple again and she wailed, snapped awake from her reverie. The jolt to her sex was followed with the knowledge of how tender she was getting and a long moan.

She felt her stomach tremble with fear remembering the time he’d whipped her breasts until they were tender for days. The same time he’d made her cum so hard she’d lost track of her muscles and self, shaking and screaming for minutes that dragged out to time unknown. Would he do that to her this time? Would he release her from the hook to fuck her like a dog, on all fours, pounding mercilessly until she would be left bruised inside and tender for a week? She hoped so and shivered at the thought both.

He pressed his fingertips to her scalp and squeezed. She sighed and he moved his fingers over her head to squeeze again. The look of her face when the jaw would clench and the muscles tauten in the throes of her orgasm was so precious to him. He squeezed again and the moan shot through his groin, sending quivers through his balls as they drew up in excitement and relaxed with the pulsing of his member. Again, he thought of yanking her pants off and impaling her — hard and fast. Ramming her in a frenzy of fucking that would leave her breathless and gasping. Shooting his load and filling her drenched and dripping hole until he would see it oozing out of her as she hung limply at the end of this treatment. A groan escaped him before he could stop it and he pinched her nipple again, making her shriek.

She lapsed into a long drawn out moan and he allowed his hands to resume their roving movements over her back, stomach and chest. He bent his lips to her neck once more and nibbled the tender flesh there as she moaned and writhed. He would move his mouth onto her collar bones and hum as her groans stretched into long minutes and sobbing gasps of ohs and ahs.

She was pressing her chest toward his lips, manipulating her body to present areas for his ministrations when his fingers stroked down the opening in her shirt and once again pushed against her wetness making her squeal and squirm. His digits pinched and prodded. Invaded her as far as her pants and panties would allow. The tips tried to meet with her nub between them, then squeezing her pussy lips as they tried to squirt away. Each pressuring of his fingers brought a moan or a keening out of her lips.

Her head was thrown back and her back bent against the constraints of her bindings, the way she was hung on the hook. It forced her hips out to him and it gave her a thrill that the movement elicited a groan from him. She shivered and another of his groans chilled her. He drew his knee up so that she felt once again his hardness poking through the fabric of his trousers. She squirmed, pushing her clothed hips at him and trying to gain purchase and force his spear to penetrate her. The clothing was becoming a frustration and she growled.

He moved right up against her, his hardness all but ripping through the cloth. His hands delighted their way up from her thighs, over her ass, up her lower back and up, up to her shoulders. They continued, kneading and massaging her upper arms, up the elbows and forearms, inexorably up to her fingers where they twined briefly before pulling a strip of silk, a necktie, from the door and tying it over her eyes. She felt a thrill of fear and a flooding of fluid at the same time and marveled how she could have both at once.

A strip of leather came around her throat as his lips worked their way over the tender skin. She found herself holding her breath. Despite her trepidation, her pussy kept drizzling. Drip after drip of her juices were slipping out of her delicate lips and snaking down her thighs. Her body and her mind were separating, as they often did when he worked on her. Her reason and self control would war with her body’s cravings and desires. The battle itself might be familiar except that, when it came to him, her body Betist Giriş always won. In the end, she supposed, so did she.

She wondered if he would do that asphyxiation so popular. The thought scared the hell out of her, yet her pussy wouldn’t stop its relentless dripping. Whatever he did would be okay with her. She knew, deep down, that he would always be safe. “Safe, sane and consensual”. The motto of the true deviant and she had no illusions about that. He was a deviant. Inventive and creative. Exciting and thrilling, but certainly deviant.

His hardness attested to that. The way his cock would grow and stiffen seeing her bound. The way he would all but cum watching her writhe in agony of need. The sudden pinch on her nipple brought her screaming out of her fugue. Another pinch and another jolting reaction. Her entire body was tensing and releasing with each pinch. The hook on the door was groaning and she thought there must be a puddle of her juices surrounding her feet on the floor from where they ran down her legs and out the pant bottoms.

Now his head moved between her breasts and his lips nibbled first one, then the other. The sides of her breasts tingled and delighted her and when he moved over the nipples, she felt the twinges in her clit. His tongue laved the globes and his lips massaged the delicate tissue. His hands delivered freely over her, pinching and prodding and soothing the tender flesh and nerve. When they reached her stomach, they moved down into her pants, pulled out and shoved them down to her knees. He stepped on them, taking them in a heap to her ankles, though he left her panties intact covering her soaking wet mound. Even the curls of her hair felt moist and her opening felt as though it were grasping at air, pulsing with want.

Now she could feel his cock, rock hard, outlined by his trousers and driving into her moisture. She spread her thighs as much as she could and tried to welcome it inside. It only pressured her more and sent her undulations of frustration, roiling in time with her bucking hips and pulsating sex. She pulled at the hook and twisted her body enough to press her vulva onto his knee as it bent upward. She felt the jab and gave an involuntary shudder and an “oh!” of surprise. Her pussy was grabbing and grasping at his pants, restrained by the cloth as surely as her hands were kept by the hook and the ties around her wrists. Would he give her relief? She knew that he would, he always does and such relief! Yet, he’d told her it would be hours before she even walked through the door. She wondered if it had been even one yet or if it had been mere minutes and she had miles to go.

Her nipples jiggled with her struggles and gave her shivers of desire and delicious need. The sway and shuddering of her breasts sent pangs of spark through her sex. She was wanton. Out of control with lust. He would do what he wanted with her and though there was no stopping him physically, she would as soon stop breathing as keep him from his delights. Glad only that he chose her to deliver his fantasies upon.

He had yet to remove any of his clothing and as his hands worked their way up her sides, she wanted little more than to feel his naked form against her. The hardness of his muscles and the strength of his arms wrapping her, taking her and keeping her. She was daydreaming and he brought her crashing back by pinching her clitoris between his thumb and finger. She squealed and arched her back. The sensations were so much more distinct with the blindfold. The pinches sharper, the dance of his fingers more clear. She realized she would cum with any sustained effort on his part.

She felt her panties so sopping wet that they may never dry and nearly giggled at the thought. His fingers squeezed her nub through the drenched silk and she gasped, without breath enough for the scream it should have been. A shiver followed. A harbinger of climax. Another pinch like that and she would cum! A gut wrenching deliverance. She could feel it overwhelming her and the shiver became a shudder and a shaking before his hand took her face and his voice in her ear said “don’t you cum”. As quiet and as menacing as it could be for her. Laden with threat and husky with need. “Not yet, you don’t.”

It made her shake all the harder and now a flood of fear that she wouldn’t be able to hold back coursed through her spine, flopping her limbs like a rag doll. His belt landed on her nipple with a snap and she just gasped. Now the other nipple felt the snap and the orgasm wouldn’t leave her, merely held itself in abeyance. Waiting for the next jostle to burst from her.

The hook moaned for her, her breath gone. Her back arching and swerving, her breasts swaying back and forth with the jerking movements. She gasped again and again, as hungry for air as for his next touch or pinch or word or thrust of his spear into her. He was tapping her nipples with the end of the leather strap, using a snapping motion. Though she couldn’t see it and had no idea when the next would fall or on which side, she knew the practiced motions well, having seen and experienced them.

His finger and thumb were back on her aching nub and the pinch made her scream this time. An agonizing keening at the end that drove a groan from him into the charged atmosphere. His voice was at her ear. Low and gentle, rolling timbre, “don’t you cum. You tell me before that happens or we’ll stop right there and do this another night.” She groaned long and low at these words and felt the familiar building pressure. She would burst like an overburdened dam with just another pinch. “Are you two pinches away?” His words, his tone were driving her faster and harder.

“Just. One.” She could only gasp. She didn’t have even the air to say it louder than the whispered mouthings she gave. “Oh. I can’t.” Her back arched and the door groaned with the strain of her muscles. The arms taut and beautiful, the breasts pushed forward and up, the buttocks clenched and the long gorgeous legs stretched to breaking, she reached a peak and shivered violently. A sob escaped her anguished lips and her body acted it for his pleasure.

“Okay, then,” he whispered, “I’ll give you one”. His covered chest brushed her hardened nipple and she burst into a thousand colors of vibrancy. The storm set upon her and she yanked her head side to side even as he pressed his thumb between her teeth and kissed the rest of her lips. She twisted and jerked in full convulsions.

She lay panting against the door, her legs as watery as the fluids leaving her in a steady drizzling. Her stomach muscles gave way to an unclenching slowly. Every other bit of her, even her hair felt limp and hung there. She couldn’t have imagined orgasming this way even some little time ago. He’d warned her. She couldn’t say now that he hadn’t. The same way he’d warned her about spanking her clit until she came or making sure to have all the orgasms she wanted early in their relationship because later — and that was now — they would all be his to give as he saw fit and in whatever way he said.

It was several days ago he mentioned casually how he would see her cum by being pinched. And she’d laughed. A nervous, tinkly laugh, it’s true, but a laugh. She hadn’t believed he would or could. She was panting still and her body felt like it was moving through molten rock. He tweaked her nipple gently. An easy reminder of what he had done to her. As though he knew where her thoughts had roamed all on their own.

The black of the blindfold was yet imposed on her as he felt under her panties, peeling them away from her waterlogged hips. They were soaked through and up the lacy sides. His hands separated them from her skin all the way around her waist and she felt the warmth of his breath brush her pubic hairs as his face passed where he pulled it away from her steaming pussy. Then it was back and closer. She squirmed in anticipatory delight. Her knees pushing to the side as her thighs quiver open.

His exhalations felt so warm and moist on her wet curls. She could feel them fluff with the slight whoosh of outgoing breath. He turns his head side to side and she can feel the coolness of air striking wettened skin. A sliver of desire slices her back open and she wants nothing more than his mouth on her, his tongue snaking inside. She imagines it so readily. The blindfold giving unnatural sharpness to her senses. He’s puffing lightly over the juice smeared moist spots. Making the goose pimples rise there and the subtle teasing that sets her once again firmly on the road to orgasm. And she wants to go! She wants his guidance. Wants him to place her in the passenger seat and drive her there. “Please.”

It’s a tiny utterance. Barely a whisper, but it speaks so loud to her harried ears that she knows not what will come next. Does he feel how, small as it was, it was torn from her? Does he know how he reached all the way inside her to take this from her very self? With a shiver she accepts that he knows. That he consciously reached in and yanked it out into the open.

She would say it again if it would bring him to finish her. He’d told her hours and it must have been already or he wouldn’t have let her cum. Would he hold her hours more? She envisioned not being able to make it. Would she disappoint him? She saw herself losing control completely. All her body functions gone. She sobbed in an anguish at the picture. Surely he wouldn’t do that to him. The only thing he’d told her was that she would cum by simply and solely being pinched. She did. What more would he take from her?

Her leaden body struggled now. He moved in close and forced her to the door. She couldn’t help a thrill of excitement even as she continued fighting. He pressed harder and her squirming became sinuous, a writhing movement that she knew he would only appreciate more and be driven to keep her in the clutches. She couldn’t help it, control was receding quickly. Panic was taking her. She couldn’t see and felt chafed everywhere. The intensity of feeling heightened with her rising fear and the feel of his lengthening and hardening cock didn’t help her focus the least bit. But it was. Growing and insistent. Her bucking, she knew, worsening the situation. She could scream and rage now and he would calmly spank her or set her on his pole and refuse her the rest until she capitulated fully. This is how he would deal with her, yet she was too far out of herself to care.

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