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He’s right behind me, his voice loud in my ear, although I didn’t hear him move. His warm breath tickles my neck as he speaks, making me tremble harder despite my best efforts not to. He chuckles.
‘You see, right now, she’s nervous but also excited. The erect nipples’ – at that, a hand twists my piercing and I bite back a moan – ‘give that away. She’s on the back foot though. When you can’t see what’s happening your imagination just runs away with you. Which can be exciting or terrifying. Or both.’
I can almost see his malevolent smile through the blindfold. The smile guaranteed to make me simultaneously wet between my legs and nervous in the pit of my stomach.
I hear movement. Rustling. Clothes possibly. Maybe he’s naked now. Maybe she is. My teeth are gritted with frustration at not being able to see them. I can feel they’re close, and now I’m hearing them kiss; she exhales a gentle murmur of pleasure as they break apart.
I stand compliant, exactly as I have been left, arms behind my back, crossed at the wrists, a textbook submissive pose. I don’t know exactly how this is going to play out but I am not doing anything to risk not playing a full part in it.
‘Are you feeling left out?’
As he speaks, a tentative tongue licks my breast. Circling, circling and then, finally, suckling me into wet warmth. The sensation is heightened by the fact I can’t see her, can just smell her perfume and feel her tongue rolling around my nipple, lapping at me, tasting me for the first time. I imagine what she must look like, her gorgeous mouth clamped round my tit, her full lips suckling me. But as the mental image begins to form I am shocked out of it.
His mouth round my other nipple is harder. He sucks me in a way that makes me squirm. Where she is soft he is vicious, his teeth scraping the delicate flesh, his fingers pinching into my breast as the pressure increases to the point where I feel like I’m going to cry out. The two different sensations merge together, a mixture of pain and pleasure intrinsically connected. Blurred. Scared to cry out, I close my eyes to stop tears soaking the cloth of the blindfold. But he sucks harder, bites harder until the sound is forced from the back of my throat, shattering the silence of the room.
He stops. They both stop. Although she plants a tender kiss on my nipple before moving away.
Even in the darkness I can feel them looking at me, and suddenly get a flash of how I must look, naked, blindfolded, obviously aroused. I feel myself blushing.
‘We’ve had to stop because she made a noise. She’s not supposed to make a sound. Unfortunately she often does things she’s not supposed to do.’
He moves closer to me, runs a finger along my collarbone, pushing away a stray tendril of hair. ‘What do we do when you do things you’re not supposed to do?’
I close my eyes behind the blindfold, feeling the blush deepen. I know what he wants me to say and I know what’ll happen if I don’t say it. But a small part of me still hates to form the words. The dual submission – not just to him but to the part of me that wants this, needs this, gets turned on by the humiliation of it – sticks in my throat.
As I try to gather my thoughts he slaps my breast, the sound echoing across the room. ‘Too slow. Answer me. Tell her what happens.’
For the first time since he put the blindfold on I am thankful that it’s there, that they can’t see the truth in my eyes. My answer is quiet, I need to clear my throat before I can speak.
‘You punish me.’