She’s waiting in the center of the bed on her knees, blindfold already tied, thick black silk, hands clasped behind her back with the cuffs I left last night.
Nothing else on her body but my marks and the shine of her own wetness.
She hears the door click and her breath catches, t**s lifting, thighs pressing together like she can hide how soaked she is.
I don’t speak.
I just walk straight to her, fist her hair, and yank her head back hard.
Her mouth falls open on a gasp.
I shove three fingers between her lips.
“Suck.”
She does, greedy, sloppy, tongue swirling like it’s my c**k.
I pull them out glistening and trail them down her throat, between her t**s, over her stomach, straight to her cunt.
Two fingers slide in easy; the third forces a whine out of her.
She’s swollen, hot, dri
