The woman’s voice eases her from her dream, “Is our pet having trouble sleeping?” “Y-yes,” she answers as the fog swirls in her mind, “S-sorry… I was dreaming.”“Really?” the voice asks archly, and feminine fingers slide into her needy opening, “And what was our little plaything dreaming about?”
She sighs in the darkness, glad that, for once, night obscures her flaming cheeks. She’d dreamt of her mistress using a leather strapon harness to make love with her, but her muscles are already flexing themselves around the invading gadget…
Her body’s answer isn’t enough for them though, and his fingers take a hold of her by the breast on his side. Its tip is already stiff, sensitive, and the cuffs and her legs hold her vulnerable; so when she still doesn’t speak in more than a contented moan for longer than his patience lasts there is nothing she can do about the cruel pinch he applies. The pressure forces a cry from her lips even as it sends a surge deep inside, and both the girl and the woman feel her muscles clench. “You were asked a question little one.” His voice is kindly, though he doesn’t lessen the painful force he applies. The woman patiently repeats her words and this time, despite her body’s twin responses, the girl manages, “Y-you.”
“And…?” The man isn’t satisfied to let her get away with such a brief answer and he pulls upwards forcing her to arch her back. That arch attracts the woman and rather than merely waiting for her answer she leans down and, first her hot breath, then her soft lips envelop the girl’s other rosy bud.
“Argh! T-this…doing this to me…Ugh, with a luxury strap on harness!” She almost misses the pain, and certainly misses its electric effects as he relaxes his grip, but his skilled fingers soon find a way to replace that heat, tending as artfully as they have tormented…“There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” His hand moves southwards and his lips replace it as he too tastes her sensitive skin, “We’ll have to punish you for waking us though.” The fingers that had so recently released her aching bud locate her mons, and press, teasing her hood up, and exposing the stiff pearl at the centre of her pleasure.
She imagines her vulva held so, while the hard, smooth Shiri Zinn flail whip falls on her defenceless flesh. “Anything…” she breathes, “Anything…Just…” She stops, feeling his hardness against her on one side, and her softness on the other. “Anything?” The woman asks raising her head, “That’s a generous offer…” The girl is lost in sensation and the dream’s more lurid images rise, images of herself, bound and punished, used by each of her lovers…owned…punished… She cries out as the woman’s teeth rouse her from her reverie, “Do you really mean anything?” Her fingers find that place inside the girl and press; not hard enough to tip her over the edge, but hard enough to deny her the power of speech. It’s a deliberate act for the woman, giving her the excuse to inflict more suffering and enforce a deeper submission as her teeth clamp down again eliciting a new cry of anguish, “This?”
It hurts, but the mysterious paths that join her most sensitive places are aglow, and the contrasting sensation of the lips on one breast and the teeth on her other are sending streams of lava down to where their hands claim her most intimate flesh. “Y-yes… please… just…
To be continued…..