Bound to Please

Nine was higher, across my back, and ten was full-on, a great cracking stroke across the curve of my backside, and I counted them all, lost now in an abstracted sea of sensations.

But finally Adam was done, and, dropping the crop, he gently unfastened my wrists and guided me over to the bed, his hands exploring my body as he pressed me back among the crush of cushions and pillows. The pain had stilled my racing mind, making me calm all the way through to my core. He slid his fingers under the sides of my G-string, and I lifted my hips to help him take it off. As he slipped it off he parted my legs, gently pushing his hand up between my thighs, opening me up, exposing me to his desire.

And all the while Adam was kissing my breasts, sucking my nipples, while his fingers were eager to explore the moist folds of my sex. I gasped as he slipped a finger inside me, his thumb brushing my clitoris. I lifted my pelvis eagerly. He made a soft throaty noise of appreciation before his kisses moved lower and lower, his tongue tracing a path down between my breasts, over my ribs, kissing and licking my navel and the sensitive skin in the bowl of my belly beneath my hip bones and the inside of my thighs. His kisses were feather-light, delicate, exciting, like a scattering of petals across my body. He worked lower still, kissing the creamy-white flesh above my stocking tops before unfastening and peeling each one off, his fingers and tongue working their way down to my knees, my ankles. Then he was slipping off my shoes and licking and sucking my toes.

The sensation was mind-blowing and made me tremble with delight. Moving back up, he kissed each of the little cascade of stars I have tattooed on my ankle and then very slowly worked his way back up until his lips and tongue finally found the soft, eager swell of my sex.