Education of Chelsea: Bound

It was still early morning. The sun wasn’t up fully and shining through the large arched window that stood sentinel over the large king-sized bed or beginning to warm its inhabitants. But even as she stirred, Chelsea could feel that there was something different. She felt almost groggy and tried to lift her right hand to rub at her eyes but found that she couldn’t. Opening her eyes, she blinked slowly as she became adjusted to the soft light that was filtering through the large window and glanced to her right hand. A soft gasp escaped her lips to find that it was tied to the top right post of their four-poster bed. Wide blue eyes swiveled quickly to her left wrist as she tugged on her bindings, quickly finding out that she was laying spread-eagled on the crisp white sheets below her and exposed to the morning light, as nude as she had been the previous night before when she had fallen asleep between her Master’s thighs.

She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Even though she trusted him implicitly, she never knew just what he had in mind for her when he would catch her off guard like this. It seemed that just when she thought she knew how things were for them and started to feel comfortable, he would do something to make her feel off-balance again. This was definitely one of those times and even though she could feel nervous butterflies battling inside her belly, her body tense and anxious as she waited to see what he had in store, she had to admit … it was affecting her the way in which everything he did affected her. She could feel the proof of it pooling between her spread thighs and knew that as the sunlight began to filter more into the bedroom, that it would visible, glistening on her smooth hairless lips that she could feel beginning to swell in anticipation.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and just let herself feel what her body was doing. Her nipples were beginning to coil into tight aching buds that matched the hardening protrusion of her clit between moist, swollen folds. The muscles in her belly kept contracting as she felt more and more exposed with every moment that went by that he kept her helplessly bound. But even in her helpless state, she was aroused and there was only one person that could put an end to this sweet torture … Him.

“Good morning, pretty slit.” The sudden sound of his English accent snapped her eyes wide open to see him standing at the foot of the bed, an enticing smile on his face. She couldn’t help but notice that he was almost completely dressed and a soft sigh of frustration emitted from her pouty lips as she gazed at him imploringly.

“Please, Master,” she started to beg but was silenced by his lifted finger that pressed to his lips as he smiled at her.

“Not a word, chelsea,” came the warning and she felt her body shudder in reply.

He slowly knelt at the end of the bed and then draped his upper body down over it to move between her thighs, his breath hot and welcome on her swollen nether lips. She shuddered in response, her eyes squeezing shut as her body arched some off the bed. Her fingers curled around the length of billowy scarf that held her wrists secure to the bedposts as soft mews and whimpers erupted from her parted lips. He hadn’t said she could make noises …

But he was content to tease and torture her already throbbing body to a highly fevered pitch. It didn’t take much to get her feeling out of control when it came to him; usually just a certain look of the feel of his fingers wrapping tightly in her hair. But this … this was sweet, delicious torture that he took complete delight in. His pursed lips were blowing out hot, slow breaths over her exposed cunt and she could feel his strong fingers slowly trailing up her calves and the back down before traveling to her knees, swirling behind them at the sensitive flesh there and then back down again in an agonizing trail.

When his tongue finally flicked over the throbbing pearl that had peeked out from its hood, she had to bite down on her tongue to keep from begging him to fuck her. Instead, she had to find a way to communicate with her body and it began to writhe and squirm beneath the ministrations of his skilled mouth as her moans and whimpers grew needier with each ragged breath. She shivered as his fingers moved up the insides of her quivering thighs, squeezing and rubbing with each pass upwards, moving closer and closer to her weeping slit caught beneath the teasing flicks of his tongue.

She wanted to reach down and grasp his hair in her flexing fingers. She wanted to press his face closer, deeper into her aching cunt. But she knew that was the whole point. His goatee barely grazed the bottom portion of her cunt and tickled in soft passes against the underside of her ass. God, she wanted him deeper … harder but he, obviously, would have none of that.

Not yet.