"Bon," he said softly near her ear, his warm breath teasing the skin on the back of her exposed neck, raising goose bumps. "Now you are ready for our bath. There, I promise you, I intend to personally soap, lather and scrub every single part of your body."
Oh Shit, she thought. Elizabeth's mouth was dry and she cleared her throat. What exactly did her captor have planned next?
2. The Bath
Being blindfolded was a serious handicap, yet Sir seemed more than happy to guide and direct her every movement. "Here are two steps, one, yes, two. Very good. Now lift the right leg, just so. Into the bath we go."
Elizabeth stepped into the warm water. It rose just above her calves, and felt wonderful. She wanted to ask if she should sit, but she had learned to just wait, and let Sir tell her what to do. She didn't have permission to speak, and she didn't care. Somehow it was so much easier to give in, to let him have all the control. Not that she could fight him in any case. The way he commanded her with that deceptive mildness was a peculiar turn on. What was that about? Men attempting to boss her around had always irritated her - until now.
"Mon cher," he said, unlocking her cuffs and bringing her hands together in front of her and relocking them, "you must raise your arms now."
She did so, and felt him attach her cuff chain to something above her head. He had the full BDSD bathroom, she supposed. Metal hooks, eyebolts – all one needed. Placidly, still buzzed by her recent multiple orgasms, she stood naked before him, arms raised - but not uncomfortably high, over her head.
"Bon," he said and grabbed a tuft of her pubic hair and pulled it gently, a reminder that he planned to shave it. "So pretty these soft blond curls, and yet I prefer to clearly see the most feminine parts of your lips and cunt and clit. And now I begin." She heard a squirting sound and the delicious smell of shea butter came to her nostrils. As she stood facing him he began to rub this soap upon her skin, starting with her neck and shoulders, the delicate pocket between her collarbone, and down her arms.
She frowned for his actions were disturbingly like what he had done with the feather, when he had tormented her, never actually touching her breasts, but then he did. Touch her breasts. OMG.
Her captor, Elizabeth had discovered, was a thorough man, and washed her body in a slow and sensual pace. Intimate and unhurried, he stroked her bare skin, lathering her aching breasts as if he had all the time in the world. He circled his fingertips around her areola, and molded her into his palms and all the while he spoke in a low, deep voice filled with masculine appreciation. Under his hands her breasts grew heavy, swelling with unquenched sexual heat. Elizabeth's senses reeled.
Sir blew warm puffs of air on her nipples, and gave a short sharp bark of delight. As she was blindfolded, he fondly depicted every aspect of how her breasts quivered and responded to him. Sir described all of her body in detail, telling her how attractive she was. Expressing his joy and commenting on everything from her earlobes, to the exhaustive ways that each feminine curve enticed him. Elizabeth couldn't understand it. These sensual descriptions put her in a strange emotional space where she became both aroused, and soothed by his touch. Rubbing softly, he stroked, kneaded and circled, lathering all of her, twisting and almost roughly tugging her nipples and using both hands to bounce her breasts up and down, feeling the weight of them.
"Such large breasts," he said in a tone of awe and avid approval. "It is not uncommon for a small woman, no? I might fuck them later, while I sit on the side of this tub. I could make them bounce for me with your nipples tight and hard as I spend my cum on them. Or I may sit on top of you, thoroughly wet them with my tongue, push them close together, and then fuck them. I would rub my cock over the soft skin of your breasts on the way to your mouth, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples while you take me deep inside to lick and suck." He paused and she imagined him with a tilted head, studying her. "You would like that, I think."
OMG yes I surely would, Elizabeth thought. Her breasts were swollen and aching. The man already knew what she wanted, what turned her on. After so many orgasms it was difficult to believe that she was already in heightened state of arousal, ready for more.
Sir continued to ply the soap generously, rubbing and caressing her everywhere, heightening the sensitivity of her skin, worshiping each of her fingers, her wrists and palms, elbows, neck, and throat, rib cage, flank and sides, apparently oblivious to the reaction he was causing within her – but Elizabeth knew better. The man was well aware of exactly what he was doing.
"Blond and beautiful. Fragile and fierce. Petite and pitiless. I read some of your court transcripts as a trial lawyer, did you know?"
"No, Sir," she said. Elizabeth's mind lurched with this information. Had he targeted her and Mark intentionally, had he been stalking them, learning all about them beforehand? Obviously he had.
Sir continued speaking, "You were merciless, yes. You go, how do they say? Ah, for the throat. Yet I did not expect for you to bite me, Elizabeth, but I should have. I was such an imbécile. A woman holding her own in a man's world, a woman that looks like you? Of course you are a fighter and trust does not come easily."
Elizabeth could only marvel. How did he know? Blonde, five foot three with blue eyes. Beautiful and rich. "You are so lucky," she had always been told. But beauty and wealth were both tyrannies that created their own evils. Did her partners merely want her money, or her body as a trophy? Who could she trust? Any woman would have had to be tough to succeed. And as a trial lawyer, her size and outward appearance was a serious handicap.
As he moved lower Sir cupped and soaped her flat stomach, hips and finally her pussy. "Mon Dieu," he said, "Your mound, your clit and lips are still so flushed and swollen." He gave her sex a little squeeze. "Plump and juicy, like ripened fruit. So ripe. Can you doubt that I will eat it?" He gave a dark erotic chuckle, and stroked her outer lips, just touching the tip of her clit. "You are still sexually stimulated and will arouse quickly to climax if I wish it. Such a responsive woman. This pleases me. But you do not feel faint, do you? With so much blood down here, your brain may not be receiving all it needs. Do you feel faint, mon cher?"
"No, I don’t think so, Sir," she said uncertainly.
"Bon. Tell me if you do. Those cuffs are not meant to be worn for long, I prefer a padded cuff, but with the water, you understand, it is not practical. And now, I will take the hair off your pussy, so that I can see, smell and taste you all the better."
A rolling wave of emotions cascaded through Elizabeth, and she tried to identify which came foremost in her mind. She settled on nervous anxiety – and lust. His hands will once more touch me in that sweet place. And her other thought was: I am going to look like a barbie doll without any pubic hair. Okay, not the doll measurements so much, but certainly the look will be the same.
But then what would her captor do?
3. The Shave
The water swished as he obviously moved to his knees. A warm caress of his hot breath caused her pussy to clinch and she inhaled suddenly. Shit. Everything about him made her think of sex: his voice, his words, and even his breath. Sir touched her functionally then, placing a palm against her outer lips and holding them out straight. The slick careful glide of a razor moved over her sensitive skin and she held perfectly still, with all her concentration there.
He worked carefully for some time, adjusting her as he wished, pressing a hip one way, raising a leg to spread her a bit for a clearer view, over and to one side with an arm. Shaving her with a thumb here, fingers there, pulling her swollen flesh straight and tight as needed. Every so often he would "accidentally" flick her clit, and the distended nub was beginning to pulse and throb. And all the while she felt his breath, slow and steady, warm against her, teasing her. Elizabeth cleared her throat, and continuously licked dry lips, biting off her whimpers. Primitive sensations flooded back to her as she recalled what he had done with his mouth there. And restlessly, wanting to touch him, she shifted and pulled at her cuffs.
He gave a low laugh, well aware of how he was tormenting her, but he said nothing.
Damn this blindfold. If only I could see, she thought, but she kept her eyes shut, concentrating on the unique sensation of having a man shave such a personal part of her body. She imagined his face, intent and focused on his work, his mouth and tongue so close to her pussy. His breath teased her, warm and steady against her sex. What did he look like? Dark hair or light? Dark skinned, tan or white? She had no way of knowing but her imagination was happy to fill in the gap.
Sir began to hum a little song while he worked. He rubbed and applied more soap then gave that deep chuckle as his fingers stroked near her slick, dripping sheath. "You are soaking wet, my little slut, aren’t you?"
Elizabeth shivered, but could only nod. Sir used the term "slut" as an endearment, the word trailing fondly from his lips with an affectionate undertone.
He added, "Do you want me again already?"
"I…yes, Sir," she sighed. There was no point in lying to him, he was too aware.
"Ah, Elizabeth," he said. He rinsed his razor – he must have had a bowl of water nearby, as the swish sounded close to her ears. "I enjoy the battle, but I also like that you do not always fight me. This honesty is so much better." He worked the alternate side then and her pussy pulsed. As he turned his hand to hold the outer lips of the unshaven side out, his thumb shifted down, teasing outside her slit. With a moan she instinctively thrust toward him, but he held his thumb back from her.
He paused for a moment, as if considering a response to her sexual need. Then, to her delight, he circled her slick channel with two slick soapy fingers, fingering and stroking around and near her slit. Heartlessly teasing, he made no attempt to palm her, providing friction to her clit, or to push his fingers within her empty sheath.
"Um, ah, ah, ah, oh!" she said and moaned and arched, thrusting her hips. This movement caused her aching pussy to suck his fingers right inside, although that had clearly not been his intent.
Sir gave a murmured sexual expletive of surprise and stood up, holding those magical fingers deep within her. With his hard cock on her well soaped stomach, and his broad chest pressed against her, Sir nuzzled and licked behind her ear and her throat.
"Elizabeth, do you want my cock?"
"Yes, Sir," Elizabeth murmured. His skin felt delicious and warm as he nibbled and kissed. But then Sir bit her hard between her shoulder and neck, and she cried out with pain and surprise. In the back of her mind, the practical side of her shouted, He bit me! And he's still biting! Man, that's so going to leave a mark. Yet the primitive part of her reveled in it.
Sir held that tender roll of flesh between his teeth, and Elizabeth shuddered. This small biting pain gave an inexplicable jolt of pleasure. Her tight channel flooded, drenching him as he calmly continued to finger her. Sir ran his tongue back and forth against her captured flesh, holding her with his teeth, licking, teasing and sucking her sensitive skin. Whimpering and mewling with pleasure, her knees trembled as he sucked. She just knew she was going to have a hickey, a big one, and she didn't even care. Sir was sucking and licking, exactly like she wanted him to lick and suck her there. Unintentionally, and with no ability to prevent it, Elizabeth shivered and moaned and whimpered under his intense ministrations.
Oh God, my clit, my clit, my clit, she thought in a repetitive mindless stupor. Oh please let him do that to my clit. Please. Please.
"Mon Cher," he said, with that uncanny ability he had to read her mind, "I will wash this soap off you now and see how your naked sex looks. I may enjoy to suck, lick and taste it. Would you like that?"
Well. There was only one answer to that question.
"Please, Sir, yes," she said.
4. Warm Shower
He turned on the taps and the soft spray of a hand nozzle ran deliciously warm over her naked flesh, rinsing the soap off, erotically moving across her skin. The pressure alternated as he flicked streams of water against different parts of her body. The nozzle began to pulsate and unexpectedly he put it right between her legs, pulsing into her pussy, making her tremble and gasp.
As the soap washed away, Sir commented on her reactions, teasing her breasts, running water over her curves both above and below. He raised her breasts by holding each nipple and pulling up, then rinsing thoroughly. Pinched and twisted, her nipples hurt, but then again, they didn't. Every time he touched them, her breasts ached with desire, and her clit throbbed. A strong jet of water hit her clit and she cried out with the strength of it. As she shuddered and danced and trembled, with her wrists and arms cuffed above her head, Sir made appreciative observations, gave deeply aroused chuckles and made crude erotic comments.
"Magnifique," he said, and turned the water off. He moved down to his knees once more and again his warm breath caressed her. With both hands holding her thighs he said, "Mon Dieu," he said in a tone of reverence. "Your sex is so beautiful. Spread yourself wide for me, Elizabeth. Let me clearly see such glory."
She obeyed him instantly, moving her legs as far apart as possible, without tugging too hard against her cuffs.
"Good girl," he said in a rough kind of awed whisper. Then he pressed his lips to the inside of one thigh and with an open mouth bit her hard, like he had her neck, rubbing her captured skin between his teeth with his tongue. It hurt for an instant each time, yet it didn't. Elizabeth felt sure he was leaving teeth marks. Biting, teasing, licking and sucking. It felt amazing and Elizabeth whimpered and mewled in exquisite pleasure with each bite.
Hickeys, she thought. Hickeys for sure. But she simply didn't care. His strong teeth clamped down on her sensitive skin, again, again, again. Slowly he moved up the inside of her thighs, and then to the soft swollen skin above her pubic bone. When he bit down on her plump, aroused pussy she squealed – it was so close to her clit! He held the sensitive flesh there between his jaws, licking, teasing and sucking hard. Then he moved lower, to her pussy's outer lips, and as he worked she gave a strangled sort of choking moan, gasping and crying out with need. She wanted him to bite her there.
All the while when he wasn't nipping and teasing her with his tongue he spoke in a deep erotic whisper, telling her how good she tasted, and how much he wanted to put his cock in her luscious cunt, her mouth, and her ass.
The ass comment sidetracked her pleasure for a moment – she didn't want that. But he soon distracted her as he worshiped her flesh with his hungry mouth and lips, his hot caressing breath, his teeth and tongue. And his words! Dark and erotic, filled with lust and desire.
"Tell me you want me, little slut," and again the word came to her ears like a tender, sensual endearment.
"Yes! Yes I want you, Sir."
"What exactly do you want, mon cher?"
Her words were mindless. "Your mouth and tongue and teeth on my clit."
"What else?"
"Your cock inside my pussy."
"What if I want to put my cock in your mouth instead?"
"Wherever you want it, Sir."
He laughed. "I want to fuck your ass, Elizabeth."
She stiffened and said nothing. He laughed again, cupping and caressing her sex with warm possessive fingers. "But I do not put my cock in your ass just yet. Right now I want to enjoy your freshly shaved cunt." Sir used the flat of his palms to spread her outer lips, and then breathed warm air upon her. His tongue probed and ran lightly just along her slit, again and again and he growled with approval of her smell and taste while she gasped and moaned and shifted, wanting to touch him, or to touch herself, restless with desire. Elizabeth's entire body felt sensitized, hot and swollen, on the cusp of climax, and she closed her eyes with overwhelming erotic hunger.
Broad and warm, his tongue teased her in each place his breath first touched, while deftly massaging her moist slit. Elizabeth endured this torment, breathlessly panting and making various involuntary noises. Completely unexpectedly he put his whole mouth down upon her swollen clit and sucked it inside. The bite he gave her there was a gentle, c
aressing nip and she sobbed with her need for release. The blood in her clit pulsed under the pressure of his mouth and she bucked, thrusting her hips toward him.
Arms still cuffed and raised above her, Elizabeth's whimpers and cries, and rhythmic thrusts unintentionally turned into words and she began to repeat them like the chanting of a Tibetan Monk, "Please fuck me, please fuck me, oh fuck me, fuck me."
He laughed then, for she had spoken without permission, but he didn't seem to mind. "Be still, mon cher, or I will stop," he warned, and firmly held her in place with both hands.
She froze then, aware that he always carried out such ominous threats. Her voice was hoarse as she gave him a mumbled, "Yes, Sir," that was more of a rasping whimper of protest. When he seemed satisfied that she would not move, he continued, returning to his work, biting, licking and sucking.
"Oh, oh, Sir…" she whimpered. Mindless, and panting, breathless with desire, Elizabeth concentrated on trying to be still, while completely overwhelmed by his mouth, his teeth, and his tongue. The world was gone for her now – there was only him, and what he was doing. "Please," she whispered with reverence. "Please don't stop, Sir."
He chuckled, "You may take pleasure, Elizabeth, but I have not given you permission to come. Now be quiet. You distract me. I am enjoying eating out your sweet cunt and do not want to be disturbed."
Elizabeth swallowed convulsively as she tried to still her quivering flesh. As he worked her clit, she moaned. Two fingers of his hand slipped inside her once more, directly up inside to her sweet spot right behind her pubic bone. "Oh, Sir!" she sobbed, "I…I can't!" A hard convulsion began to take her, a pooling warmth that started from within her core. As it passed through her she shook violently, and Sir began to pull away. Elizabeth screamed and almost came as her slick sheath clamped down upon his receding fingers. She was close…so close! Almost over that edge!