Chained Melody

Blonde

The room was a large one but sparsely furnished. At one end was a set of French windows that opened onto the garden. Sunlight fell across a hardwood floor at the centre of which stood a bath tub raised at each corner on a bronze lion’s paw. At the bottom of the tub stood a man. He was naked save for a blindfold and a tight pair of black leather shorts, and stood with his hands suspended above his head. The hands were cuffed—she had done it herself several hours before—and the fur-lined cuffs were suspended from a long chain that was attached by a hook to the high ceiling. The man was half-standing, half-hanging from the chain.

She smiled and opened one of the French windows, allowing the warm air of afternoon into the room. At the noise he shifted, turning slightly to locate the sound. She thought of addressing him but changed her mind. She simply kicked off her heels and walked barefoot to the side table. From the box with the gold ribbon she took one of her favourite Belgian chocolates. She sucked its sweetness, still regarding her captive. And then, treading softly, she stole up behind him and playfully ran her fingernail across his left shoulder blade, just firmly enough to leave a mark. He stiffened, causing the chain to clink, but he made no other sound as she walked around him, admiring the muscles of his chest and arms that were stretched taut and well displayed.

Still without speaking, she put on a CD, Chopin’s Nocturnes. She took a second chocolate from the box, savoured it for a while and then selected a third. This one she carried across to the chained man where he stood at the end of her bath tub. She raised it to his nose and he inhaled deeply. ‘Eat!’ she told him and stroked his cheek just below the blindfold. She fed him the chocolate and watched his jaw as he ate. With her left hand, she played with the hair of his chest.

Moving away again, she went to the Ataşehir Olgun Escort wall into which a bronze wheel was set. It looked like it might belong on a small boat. She gave the wheel a turn, watching closely as the chain was paid out, lowering the man until he rested on his knees. Satisfied, she went back and stood in front of him. She sat herself down on the end of the bathtub, so close she could hear his soft breathing. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse—she thought he might be able to hear the buttons—exposing her high breasts in their bra of ivory lace. Reaching quickly, she put both hands behind his head, gripping the hair, and dragged it forward, bringing his mouth to her left breast.

He began to nuzzle her at once. She could feel his lips through the fine lace, his nose pressing into her softness. His tongue grazed her nipple and she inhaled sharply. But when she felt his teeth there she pushed his head away and gave his cheek a sharp slap. The sound rang in the empty room.

He froze but the next moment she pulled him back to her, to her right breast. This time he nuzzled more gently—he had learned his lesson—using only his lips and tongue. Rewarding him she slipped the breast free of its lace cup, giggling as he tried to take it into his mouth. He redoubled his efforts and she sighed, wishing she had another chocolate to hand. She held him there, now at her right breast, now at her left, for fully twenty minutes. When at last she allowed him to rest he was breathing hard and his face was damp with sweat. Also, she was amused to notice, he had a nice bulge in his leather shorts. She bent down to stroke it and for the first time he made a sound, a long, low moan.

She smiled and stood up, patting his cheek and then adjusting the blindfold to make sure it was serving its purpose. Stepping away to the other end of the tub she began to run a warm Ataşehir Sarışın Escort bath.

While it ran, she enjoyed another chocolate, carelessly stepping out of her skirt and silk panties as she went about the room until she was naked. It was then that she had an idea. She gave the wheel a further turn, so that the man fell forward on his knees, his face almost touching the bottom lip of the tub. And then she added bath oils, sandalwood and eucalyptus, and stepped into the bath.

For a while she simply relaxed. It amused her to see him kneeling there, blindfolded, chin almost resting on the end of the tub. But then she could resist no longer. She stretched out her left leg, lifting it clear of the water and bubbles, and arched the foot. She brushed his nose with her big toe and then his lips. He didn’t have to be told. He put his lips to her foot, pressing the warm, wet skin with a kiss. And then he went to work, tasting and licking, running his tongue between the shapely toes—it tickled and she laughed, rearranging herself beneath the warm water—before taking the largest toe gently into his mouth, letting it slide between his lips.

She moved a little closer, shifting up the bath, allowing him to address the sole of her foot, licking and kissing, and then the instep, the heel, the ankle. Parting her long legs, she lifted them both clear of the bath so that her feet hung dripping, behind and to either side of his head. He put his lips to her calf, planting a timid kiss. She continued to shift along the bath as he kissed and licked and sucked and ran his tongue over her smooth skin. He kissed her knee, turning his head as best he could to slip his tongue in underneath.

The Chopin music ended but after a moment it started over again. Before long her knees were hanging over the lip of the bath—she had to support her weight on her arms, bracing Ataşehir Şişman Escort them against the bottom of the bath, arching her back—and his mouth was at the smooth, pale skin of her inner thigh, bathing it in kisses.

All of a sudden she withdrew, retreating to the far end of the bath. Even with the blindfold the expression on his face was a picture—surprise and frustration intermingled. ‘Other foot,’ she told him abruptly, arching her right foot and stroking his lips with the toe. Once again he set to work, worshipping her ankle and her calf, her knee and thigh. This time she did not withdraw but continued to inch forward along the tub. At last, taking her weight on her arms and with her legs fully spread and draped over the lip of the tub, she arched her back and let her head fall back, bringing her pussy clear of the water. ‘Now,’ she hissed, ‘eat me.’

Timidly, with his tongue, he found the soft divide. He pushed into her for a second and then smoothly up, tracing the soft fur until he found the hard nub. He found it and she stiffened, bringing her thighs together so that they pressed his ears, sealing him, drawing him in. His tongue moved faster, back and forth, up and down. It began to circle and she gave a moan, shifting her weight to relieve her arms. He put his lips to her clit, kissed and then sucked and then quickened his pace further, his nose buried in her damp fur, dropping at intervals to probe her wetness and her heat.

‘Harder, yes, faster,’ she hissed, knowing that he couldn’t hear. She began to rock against him, moving with the movement of his tongue, moving against his face, until at last she felt the tremors of pleasure course through her body.

She slid slowly back along the length of the bath and lay there panting, hair disheveled, exhausted. She could hear his ragged breath too. She closed her eyes and almost slept, wrapped in a cocoon of warm water, listening to the gentle piano music. For a while, she almost forgot him. But when she sat up and opened her eyes, there he was. His blindfold was slightly askew and his face glistened with her juices. And, she was fairly certain, he had a good-sized bulge in those tight little leather shorts.

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