Mindscape · Part 2 (2/2)
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After several more minutes, he finally opens the office door. "Come in and get up on the desk," he says simply. "I suspect that you know which position to adopt when there." She follows his orders, settling back on her heels, knees spread an almost uncomfortable distance apart, fingers laced together behind her neck. She does not meet his eyes, keeping her gaze instead fixed upon the door beyond his head. He walks around her, taking her in with his eyes. Tension seems to be building to an unbearable point as he faintly runs his fingertips down along her spine, smiling as she flinches from the contact with the reddening welts.
From behind, he reaches to cup her breasts, kneading them almost roughly as he brings his lips to her shoulder blades, feeling her press into him ever so slightly. With one hand, he reaches down between her legs, feeling a low pulsating in the cup of his hand, which comes away warm with her humidity. He pulls away now from her warm body, and pulls a chair out in front of the desk. Seating himself, he motions for her to step down from the desk. "Get undressed," is all he says. She obeys without the slightest hesitation, her movements slow and fluid, gauged to entice the watcher's eye to every curve of her body.
When she has finished, and her clothes are folded in a neat pile on the floor, she stands quietly before him, hands at her side. He stands and approaches her, and with no warning, pushes a knee between her legs and kicks her feet apart, at the same time sliding two fingers into her wet vagina. Unprepared, she allows herself to fall forward against him, her lips on his neck. He pulls out of her abruptly, pushes her upright, and slaps her. Feeling that perhaps a simple slap might not be enough, he turns her roughly and bends her over the desk, positioning her hands in a grip of the opposite edge.
A small soft-cover book is selected from the book-shelves to serve as a paddle, which he applies repeatedly to the soft flesh of her rear-end, until her whimpering convinces him of her atonement. Before she can get her thoughts together, she is turned, more gently this time, onto her back, the cool surface of the desk soothing against both old and new welts. He uses her socks to bind her ankles to the legs of the desk, leaving her spread wide for his inspection. Her hands still remain locked at the edge above her head, and she closes her as she feels his fingers probing gently at her clitoris. She is unprepared for the sudden sting of the belt on the inside of her thighs.
"You will keep your eyes open and you will watch me," he growls, pinching the tip of her clit until she gasps out her obedience. Their eyes, now locked together, never waver from each other as he lowers his head to kiss the welt on her thighs. She makes no sound, but fidgets with the edge of the desk with her fingers, and tries not to strain against the bindings on her ankles. Watching her, he runs the very tip of his tongue over the slightly swollen strip of flesh on her leg, intrigued by her self-control. She does not fight him, but she makes it clear that, at this moment, he does not control her.
With an almost casual slowness, he touches his tongue to tiny, random points on her upper thighs and lower abdomen, his eyes twinkling in a smile his mouth is too preoccupied to provide. He is rewarded; her breathing catches in her throat when he finally brings himself to the taut lips of her inner sanctum; the smell of her instinctive eagerness fills his head as it fills the room, but he ignores the silent challenge in her eyes and pulls away. Caught by her own, beginning frustrations, she sighs, but has no time for much else as he returns to her, invading her before she is aware of the fingers thrust deep into her vagina.
Almost angrily, she arches from the desk, the wind knocked from her lungs by the force of entry, caught back only in sobs timed to his thrusts before he pulls away completely. He smiles to himself. He has caught her off-guard, and now she is unsure of herself. Bringing the chair closer to the desk, he leaves her feet bound where they are, but pulls her forward, off the top of the desk, to be bent forward over the chair. It is an uncomfortable position for her; her feet are still almost flat to the floor behind her, stretching the muscles in the backs of her calves and thighs almost unbearably.
Gently, almost reverently, he touches the fading welts on her buttocks, before releasing a mighty swing that connects the palm of his hand with her reddened flesh with a sound that echoes between the four walls of the office. Another falls, and another; she loses count of both the barrage and the number of tears which respond to her pain. It is perhaps a dozen or so spanks which have fallen, and in the brief moment of silence which settles afterwards, between the sounds of her own crying breath, she hears the unmistakable rustle of denim being pushed down along skin. She grasps the edges of the chair in preparation, waiting.
But he is smarter than that; he has seen her tense in anticipation, and knows that penetration is what she wants. It is too soon for her to be satisfied, he thinks as he folds his own pants on top of hers. With one strong hand, he supports her as he removes the chair, settling her on the floor, feet still tied behind her. She still regards him coolly through damp eyes; he may still command, but he does not yet possess. He grabs her hair in two handfuls andpresents himself to her, pressing his hardness against her lips. She refuses. He forces her head back with one hand, delivering a stinging blow with the other. She whimpers, but refuses again. He switches hands and strikes her again.
Swaying on her knees, she raises her face to his member, for the moment giving up, if not giving in. Only barely does he wait for her, thrusting deep into her mouth as soon as he feels the willing contact, and with both hands, he forces her head into place, feeling her struggle to breath and swallow, fighting the gag reflexes. Instinctively her hands come up his own naked buttocks, but he grabs the wrists in one hand and stretches them over her head; his other hand return to the insistent grip behind her head as he begins a fast thrusting motion with his hips. Her throat is tight, wet and warm, and he feels her tongue running over his swollen dick as he plunges into her mouth.
He begins to rock on his heels with each push, disregarding the occasional contact with her teeth as she struggles to match his motions. He feels his own tension beginning to peak, and starts to ram hard into her mouth, knowing that she is being thrown off balance, but not concern for her comfort as he feels his crotum constrict in the inevitable climax. His own laboured breathing explodes in an almost agonized groan as her throat swallows around him, accepting as much as she can without setting off gagging reflexes. He releases her, pulling out of her mouth as he reaches for his pants.
Unbidden, she wipes her mouth, risking a moment to settle back on her heels to rest the muscles of her legs. There is no reprimand for this behaviour; rather, he seats himself on the edge of the desk behind her and reaches out to stroke her hair. His bare leg brushes lightly against her bare shoulder, and she shivers at the tingling sensation that trails along behind it. There is a delicious feeling to the goosebumps that swell on patches of already red and welting skin, and she sighs, concentrating on the pleasure. This reaction does not go unnoticed by him, and with a single tug he releases each of the bindings in turn.
With gentle but unyielding hands, he positions her on the floor, on her stomach, spread-eagled. There is nothing to hold her in this position except his will and her whim, but she accepts his fether-touch without question as he strokes her skin, toying periodically with the sensitive areas left in the wake of her whipping for the sake of seeing her squirm in pleasure or agony. Sometimes he uses the tips of his fingers, sometimes the smooth surface of his palm, but always he has the contact with her, touching her feet or arms, legs, back or neck.
He discovers the sensitive spots along her spine or sides, and the charming rippling effect he can evoke with light touches across the base of her neck. Her head is turned to one side that she may breathe, and he criss-crosses the exposed side of her face with the touches, until she turns slightly to kiss his fingertips. Slowly, he brings from behind him his belt, but this time, it is not meant as a weapon. Instead, he reaches out, and gently draws both of her arms together abover her head, binding the wrists with the supple leather.
He does not speak as he pulls her to her feet and leads her to a space on the wall between the door and the bookshelves, hooking her bound hands over one of the shelf struts, and firmly separating her feet. They lock eyes again as he runs his hands, somewhat more insistently this time, over her body, cupping her breasts and bring the nipple of each in turn to his warm mouth. She moans slightly as his teeth nip them to an enticing hardness over which his tongue dancing.
Distracted, he slowly progresses the attentions of his mouth towards her neck and ears, as his hands independently move to her hips, squeezing them in a slow rythm that soon encompasses the kneading of her buttocks as he pulls her unprotesting body against his willing own. She feels him waiting for her; she is aware of how desperately she wants her own release, but resigns herself to patience, knowing he will do as he wishes when he is ready. Her own excitement has been steadily climbing, and this new, gentler interaction is almost enough to send her crying into her own orgasm.
His lips meet her own, and this time, he does not refuse her active participation, accepting her tongue's contact with his own. Strong hands lift her hips slightly, forcing her up on her toes, and she feels him slip his dick between the outer lips of her vagina. He lifts her again, and with incredibly slow precision, settles her down over top of his erection, only allowing her tiny fractions of penetration at a time. She quirms against him, but his legs are bent just enough, his body is just far enough below her own to frustrate her. With just the head of his member, he strokes the entrance to her vagina in slow strokes, listening to the sound of her breathing as she strains to catch him.
Her head rolls forward as she struggles but there is no punishment this time. Crushing her mouth, he feels her body tense for his next stroke, and, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, and the other around her waist, he breaks the tension with one thrust all the way into her, smiling as the sound of her cry of victory washes over them both. With his second slow, powerful thrust, she brings her legs up to wrap around his waist, supporting all of her weight from the binding on her wrists as she throws her head back against the wall. Even his breath is rasping as he buries himself in her, forehead pressing against her neck, licking the sweat from her body.
The pressure has almost reached its zenith; she is grasping at each of his thrusts with the muscles of her vagina, holding each throb just a little bit tighter, each breath just a little bit more like that final groan of release. She is almost pleading now, almost crying, almost screaming. His fingers are almost clawing at her back, digging almost painfully into already tender skin. The motion has become animalistic, tribal, baser than any other known to man, a rhythmic pumping that has no other meaning. Her legs tighten on his waist, and the convulsion forces them both over the edge.
She slams her body back against the wall, pulling him and his final thrust with her, driving it deep into her as he releases his own orgasm with a cry and a violent shuddering, his arms clinging tightly to her slick body as he churns the last few thrusts, emptying himself. At last, there is only silence. Both of them catch their breaths; heart rates slip into more familiar rythms, and he finally pulls away from her, lowering her legs gently to the floor. Her head is still back against the wall, but now she opens unfocused eyes to watch as he gets dressed. He has everything he came with ready to go before he unhooks her hands from the shelf and undoes the belt.
"Be in the lounge at the same time tomorrow," is all he says as he leaves, shutting the door softly behind him as he goes.
Mindscape · Part 2 (2/2)
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