Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
Marc closed the heavy wooden door behind us. “Nervous?” he asked. His voice was calmer than usual. “A little,” I replied, twisting my fingers together. He reached out, took my hands, and held them. “That’s good, Amber,” he said. “It means you’re present…you’re aware.”
My attention snagged on the leather restraint system that was mounted to the ceiling beams. He’d described it. I’d also seen photos. But seeing it in person made my stomach drop in a way that was like a solid mix of fear and hunger. “We’ll start slow tonight,” he said, as his thumb traced circles on my palm. “I’ll bind you, first. The rest comes later…if you want it.” I nodded in agreement because, well, words felt too heavy.
Sensory Deprivation
His hands moved to the collar of my shirt. He pulled it over my head and tossed it aside. Each piece of my clothing was removed with the same precision and care that a surgeon might give their instruments.
“Lie down on the bed. Arms above your head,” he instructed, while stepping back to look at me. The sheets were cool against my back. I stretched my arms toward the headboard, and watched him. He bound my left wrist first. The leather cinched snug but not tight. Then my right wrist. Then my ankles, spread out to the corners of the bed.
My heart hammered. The position left me completely open and completely vulnerable. I watched him move to his bag, to retrieve a strip of black silk. “This is the part where you surrender,” he said, holding the silk up so I could see it. “Not to me. To yourself.”
The fabric brushed my cheeks as he tied it around my head, covering my eyes. The last thing I saw was his silhouette against the glow of the lantern that flickered on his bedside table, and then nothing but darkness.
“Tell me what you feel,” he commanded, from somewhere near my right hip. “The restraints…the silk…the cold air on my skin,” I replied. He paused for a moment, then his hand landed on my stomach. His palm was flat and warm, and I flinched. “That’s touch,” he said. “Touch is the only sense you have left, for now. Focus on it.”
His hand moved slowly upward, between my breasts, across my collarbone, and up to my throat. Not squeezing. Resting. Like a reminder of his presence. “I’m going to touch you everywhere,” he said. “You won’t know where next. You won’t know how hard or how soft. You’ll just feel it. Can you handle that?”
I nodded, as his hand left my throat and his mouth closed over my right nipple. I gasped as his tongue circled the peak, while his fingers found my left breast and rolled that nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
He sucked harder, then released my nipple with a soft pop. Cool air rushed over my wet skin, making it ache. His hand drifted lower, combing through the strip of hair above my pussy, but never quite reaching where I wanted them. “Please,” I whispered.
“Please what?” he asked, sternly. “Please…please, touch it,” I whispered. His fingers dipped lower, parting my pussy lips and sliding through the wetness that had gathered there. I whimpered. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Feel that. Don’t think about it.”
Every muscle in my body screamed. My hips thrust up against nothing, as he held perfectly still, with his fingers buried inside me, and his thumb resting motionless on my clit.
“Not yet,” he said. “You’re not ready.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to beg! But the words wouldn’t come out. He walked away and I heard the clink of something metal coming from where he’d kept his bag. “We’re going to try something new,” he said. “If you want to stop, say red. If you need a break, say yellow.”
“Green,” I said, before he could finish. He chuckled, as something cold touched my stomach. The hum started low and spread across my skin, as I realized it was a vibrator. He dragged it downward, over my clit, and my hips bucked again.
“This will stay on until you cum,” he said. “But I control the speed. And I can stop anytime.”
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
https://phonesexcandy.com/amber