I woke up to his mouth on my chest. Gasping and arching into it. Reminded that I couldn’t get up from the bed. Nor could I see. Not really. Struggling and moving into his mouth. He went until I started saying, “please sir” in a little loop.
“What are you asking for?” he asked, finally lifting his mouth.
“Um,” I said.
I could feel my pulse between my legs. And unfortunately I was accustomed to coming when woken up in such a manner. At this point if my sleep was disrupted I assumed it would end in orgasm.
“You’re already asking?” he crowed. “It’s only your first hour little girl! How are you going to survive?”
“No,” I said, trying to become still.
He knocked my legs wide with the backs of his hands.
“Slick,” he said, clearly staring down at me.
I could feel myself flushing inside of the hood. Closing my legs against him. They were knocked open again. I shrieked when I felt his face between my legs. Lapping up at me. Briefly and too soft, certainly not enough.
“You taste like you’re ready,” he said musingly.
“No, I’m not!” I said.
“If you say so,” he said, with a shrug in his voice.
I heard him leaving. Sort of relaxing back into bed. Wishing he’d keep using his tongue on me. Anywhere.
When he came back he clamped something to my nipples. The pinch wasn’t particularly terrible, but I could tell whatever hung from the clamps was heavy, even while I was still supine.
“Another thing I’ve been thinking about,” he said, uncuffing me. Helping me to sit up. The weight slid across my ribs, tugging my nipples downward and giving a little tinkle as I moved.
“I’ve wanted to hang bells off you since I first saw your breasts. And this way I’ll always know precisely where you are,” he said.
I gasped, shifting a little, hearing the bells clinking as I did.

The day went on like this. The last time he touched me between my legs was that one swipe of his tongue. And while he would occasionally lick or suck or massage my nipples he generally just kept the clamped. Once he taped vibrators to me. He knew I couldn’t finish on either of those things. When we ate he’d keep his palm sealed over my eyes until he got a padded blindfold on me. Then he let me eat. I did so clumsily, hands together, blind. He offered to help but I was unwilling to let me feed him.
Sometime after lunch, an hour or two later, I started begging him. Pleading to come. I couldn’t always be sure he was with me. I crawled from the armchair he’d left me in across the carpet. Raising my head to see if I could smell him or hear him. I heard a little fwip of paper and went there. Finding his socked foot on the floor. Looking up at him just like I ordinarily would but unable to make eye contact with him.
“Please sir,” I said. “Just the one. One is less than I’ve become used to.”
“I know,” he said. Another page turning.
“However you want!” I prodded.
“But I don’t want,” he said.
“Maybe just… Just your foot again,” I said.
He laughed harshly, clearly remembering when he’d had me ride his shoe.
“No, not even that,” he said.
“Ring my bells,” I groaned.
That too just elicited laughter from him.
“I’ll do it for you,” I cried. “You can just watch me!”
“You most certainly will not,” he said.
And I heard him standing up, leaving me. When he came back he knelt beside me. Taking off the cuffs and roughly forcing my hands into something. Flexing my trapped fingers I felt around in this new thing. It felt like being in constrictive mittens. Trying to make a fist I realized it was more like boxing gloves.
“So you’re not tempted,” he said.
And then I heard him sitting back down in his chair. I went quiet, writhing on the floor for a while. When I relaxed I crawled slowly back to the couch. Sort of drifting off for a while. When I woke up I sat up.
“Is he watching us?” I asked.
“J?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” he said. “Do you want him to? We could call him.”
“Um,” I said.
I listened to us being quiet.
“Are you telling him?” I asked quietly after a few more minutes.
“That you’re a wet little slut? Begging me to jerk off and otherwise humiliate herself?” he asked. “Of course. And he says we’re both doing a good job.”
Later in the day he lifted me up off the couch. Hauling me onto his shoulder again. I took it with greater grace this time. Or I was just too stupefied to be scared any more. He deposited me onto a floor, I could feel carpet under my knees and calves. I sat still, waiting for direction. Hearing the creak of leather and wood. And then my hood was whipped off. I gasped, fastening my eyes on the floor ahead of me. Green and gold carpeting. Waiting for a blindfold to go on. Unsure if we were going to eat again. It didn’t feel like the right time to.
“Little girl,” he cajoled, from where he sat.
I looked up at him, giving him his eye contact. He grunted, reaching out for me before his hands fell back to his knees.
“I forgot,” he said, brushing my hair off my forehead and cheeks from where it had been stickily adhering and getting staticy in the hood. “I forgot how effective your eyes are.”
“Do you want me?” I asked.
“Endlessly,” he said simply, with a shrug.
He was apparently disinclined to give in to me, or anyway, had greater restraint than I. I took stock of my surroundings then. A room outfitted to be an office clearly. We were behind his wide desk, he sat back in a black leather chair. I was kneeling to his right side on the carpet. Bookcases and a standing lamp. I looked back at him when he shifted. Undoing his belt and zipper. I wriggled on my knees, tucking my still-mitted hands between my thighs.
“Hands up,” he said.
I sighed and let my arms drop to my sides. I kept frozen still as he started to touch himself. Very carefully projecting ‘good girl’ and hoping that he’d let me get my mouth on him. It was hard though, because I really loved the specific movement he did. That slow, almost milking thing, getting himself ready slowly. I was hoping he’d use my mouth, or better yet, my chest again.
But he didn’t.
“Please, let me–” I started to say.
“Let you what? Come? You know you won’t, little girl,” he said.
“No!” I said. “Let me help. I can help you. Wouldn’t it feel better to use me?”
“It almost certainly would,” he agreed, breathing a little heavy. “But it’s not what we’re doing right now. You sit there, you watch me, you stay quiet.”
“Sir, I could–”
With his free hand he reached into my begging mouth. Pinching my tongue between his thumb, fore and middle finger. Hard enough that it felt like the blood rushed to it. Drawing it a little from my mouth.
I wiggled again but took it. It wasn’t painful. It was mostly that I was worried about drooling. I heard him speed up. Unfortunately the sound of his flesh turned me on worse. I spread my knees, angling myself up to him so he could see how wet I was.
“No,” he grunted.
He let go of my tongue but began moving his fingers across my tongue in time with his stroking. I groaned and let my teeth land on his knuckles in a quick nip. Letting him know how dissatisfied I was.
I was astounded when he didn’t finish. Sitting and catching his breath and letting his erection subside. I leaned forward, resting my chin on his knee and looked up at him again.
“Why–?” I asked. “Please I’ll… I’ll bend over your desk… Or ride you in your chair or… However you want it, but I need you.”
He started tucking himself back into his pants, chuckling.
“Go ahead and ask again and see how far that gets you,” he said.
I could still taste him on my tongue and that made things worse. With a hefty breath I settled back away from him. Concerned I was dripping on his rug. He buckled on the blindfold and double-blinded me by putting the hood back on. At least with just the hood on I could see light, or the lack thereof. Now I was entirely blind.

The rest of the day passed like this. Now I was actually getting frustrated. Or fussy would be more correct. I was becoming near-tantrummy. Sort of tearful and feeling ridiculous that just being teased like this was getting me to the point of crying. I almost pushed his hand away when he lifted my hood to give me a sip of water. That just made him laugh too.
We eventually went to bed.
I lay awake, mitted-hands cuffed over my head to the headboard. I had enough play that my elbows could comfortably rest on my pillow.
I heard an uptick in his breath and I held my own. I hadn’t seen where his room was in relation to the presumably guest room I was in. He said he was four steps away but I didn’t know. And while I could sense my door was open, I didn’t know if he was leaving his open.
Breathless, I listened closely. Wondering if he was having a bad dream or something else. Then I heard him panting and that flesh-on-flesh sound again.
“Sir?” I called
“Are you all right, little girl?” he asked back. Using a conversational tone. So he was close and both of our doorways were open.
“Yes but are you–?”
“I’m finishing what I started, yes,” he answered back.
I groaned again. Held my breath again to listen. I could hear him clearly stroking himself and by his breathing I could tell he was spreading up.
“Please sir,” I called. “Let me help you. Please let me help you.”
“With what hands, silly little girl?” he asked.
In frustration I let my hands sort of paff against the wooden headboard. I couldn’t even make a louder knocking sound because of the padding. Shaking in the bed and kicking my feet in a tantrum.
“Come in and finish on me then!” I finally shrieked.
He gave an airless little laugh. Then I heard him moaning my name over and over. I tried cricketing my legs together to get some contact but all it did was frustrate me and slick my thighs.
I listened to his long moan as he finished.
“Fuck you!” I called.
“Cry about it,” he shot back.