Today, we tease. Well, Colleen does.
Enjoy.
A Magazine, a Coffee, but not Release
Colleen closed her eyes and let out a
contented sigh. The heat of the ater pulsed through her body, the
bursting bubbles little kisses against her skin. She felt the cool
air against her bare leg, felt the rough touch of his hand as he
cradled her ankle.
The razor slid slowly along the skin,
with the caution and the care of a safe cracker, of a surgeon. She
felt the scrape of the blade as it moved up, against the grain of her
stubble, shaving her close as only a straight razor can. She leaned
back against the pillow of towels he had set for her and just let him
work, focusing her attention on the sweet scent of flower petals in
the bubble bath.
The cool air on the freshly shaved skin
was soft and refreshing, and made the heat of the water all the more
welcome as he slowly lowered her leg back into the water. She raised
her other foot out of the water, listening to the dripping water
cascading off the curves of her skin.
As he finished the careful movement of
the blade, knowing the punishment he would be facing if he gave her
even the tiniest cut, Colleen spread her hands out under the water,
letting them float free on the waves of heat.
He slid her other leg under the water
and shuffled away a little bit. Colleen reached up, pinched her nose,
and slid under the water, letting her hair float away from her head
for as long as her lungs would let her. Then she slid back out of the
water, head tilted back so her hair would settle down behind her.
She took a deep breath, wiped off her
eyes, and kicked at the drain under the water.
“Towel,” she said. She put her
hands on either side of the tub and pushed herself to her feet.
He shuffled to the wall, the rope
lacing his ankles to his thighs, balancing on his knees as he moved
to the towel rack. He pulled two towels down and started shuffling
back towards her. Colleen stood, water sliding down her body, and
watched him move.
He tried not to drool, though the gag
holding his mouth open made that, at best, a difficult task. His legs
were a mass of crisscrossing rope, giving him the extension and
movement of an amputee. Colleen knew he would need a bit of a massage
when she let him out, but he insisted that it wasn't actually painful
to be tied that way.
He handed her the smaller towel, and
Colleen wrapped it around her head. Then she stepped out of the
rapidly dwindling pool of water and stepped onto the bath mat. She
held her arms out and waited.
He started at her shoulders, reaching
up as high as he could, pressing the towel against her skin and
gently moving the terrycloth down and drying off her arms. He was
careful not to linger on her breasts or on her ass, just making sure
she was dry.
Colleen didn't move, just watched him
and made sure he was appreciating her form without taking even the
slightest advantage of her generosity at letting him touch her in the
first place. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the smile from
spreading on her face.
Once dry, she walked away from him and
took her robe from the hook on the door. She slipped her arms into
the soft silk and tied the belt around her waist.
“I'll take my coffee in lounge.”
She spoke over her shoulder as she walked out of the bathroom, not
even looking back to make sure he was doing as he was told.
She settled down into a comfortable
chair and picked up a magazine, idly flipping through the pages as
she heard him crawling through the kitchen, heard him grinding up the
beans and filling the coffee machine. She read an article and let the
aroma of the coffee float through the air and fill her nostrils. She
smiled again as she watched him come back into the room, crawling on
three hands, holding the coffee mug as steady as he could with the
other. No chance he could balance on the two stumps of his legs and
carry the mug.
It was
slow going, but eventually, he was ready to hand the mug to her.
Panting for breath, he stretched out his arms, trying to stop from
shaking, knowing the danger of spilling.
Colleen
considered reaching out to take the mug from him, but decided to let
him hold it out for a while. No need to help him.
When
she finally took the coffee from him, the steam trailing off the top
of the cup looked straight out of a movie. She inhaled the scent of
french roast with another soft smile, blew the steam away, and took a
tiny sip. Just enough cream, a dollop of honey; at least he'd learned
that lesson. She looked up and down his body, but couldn't see any of
the bruises. They'd long since faded.
“Stool,”
she said.
He all
but collapsed onto his hands and feet, crawling into place.
“Shackles.”
He put
his hands into the shackles around the little ring set into the
floor. With a click, he locked his wrists in place, needing to bend
down and use his mouth to help him lock in the second wrist. He
pushed himself up so that his back was level, and Colleen leaned back
and rested her feet on his back.
She
took a deep sip of the coffee and laid the magazine in the crook of
her lap. She half read the magazine, watching the muscles in his arms
strain at the awkward position, watching the focus on his face as he
tried not to shake, not to move. A good foot stool doesn't move.
Colleen
took another sip and lifted one of her feet off his back. She slid it
underneath him and rubbed her foot underneath him, playing gently
with his crotch. She kept her eyes on his face, watching him bite his
lip as she toyed with him.
He let
out a soft whimper of pleasure, getting quickly hard as her foot slid
up and down. She smirked and took another sip, flipped the page of
her magazine loudly, without even glancing down at the page.
He
moaned, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought the urge to move,
to thrust against her foot.
Colleen
took her other foot off her back and moved it to double the assault
on his erection. His moaning grew louder, his body starting to shake.
The muscles in his shoulders were taught, and she traced the lines of
them with her eyes, appreciating the curve of his arms, the cleft
between his shoulders, the tight curves of his ass.
She
kept sliding up and down his cock, teasing and tickling him. Holding
still was becoming more and more herculean a task. Colleen took
another drink, her coffee nearly drained.
He
whimpered, he moaned, he took deep breaths to try to steady himself.
He struggled, he fought, but eventually, he broke.
He
pushed forward, just a little bit, pressing into her feet, thrusting
into the warm and soft flesh of her feet.
Instantly,
she pulled her feet away.
“Tsk
tsk,” she said. “You know the rules.”
She
put her feet onto his back again. Crossed her ankles and bobbed her
feet. She drained her coffee and set the mug on the table next to
her.
He
whimpered and whined, so close to orgasm, so close to release. He
pulled against the shackles at his wrists, tried desperately to pull
himself free, to get that last little bit, to push himself over the
edge, over the lip of orgasm. But there was no way to get loose, no
way to get to the raging mass of nerves that were just begging for
release.
Colleen
laughed and turned back to her magazine.
“Be
a good stool,” she said. “And maybe we'll try again when I finish
my magazine.”
He
took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes in concentration, and bit
back a whimper. She looked at his straining erection and wondered how
long it would take before he went soft again, and then how long it
would take for her to get him back to the edge without pushing him
over it. And how many times she could do that before he called out
his safeword, or before her timing was off.
Plenty
of time to find out.
Colleen
flipped the magazine back to the beginning and started to actually
read it. Every article, every ad, every byline.
Bit by
bit.
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