Bound to the chair..

He leads me by the hand to the centre of the room.

There is a chair. It is settled right in the middle of the room, centred, as if waiting for a spotlight to be shone onto it.

The house is quiet, he says little to me, as he walks to the corner.
He reaches into a bag and turns back to face me, rope in hand.

I look from the rope to his face, back to the rope and again to his face.

He gives nothing away with his expressions, but I know there is a calm about him tonight that I do not often see, this calm almost frightens me. If the trust wasnt there, I would be seriously worried.

I cock my head, watching him, reading his body, watching his movements.

I smile, I have realised what is different..... tonight he is in total control.

Whether I like it or not, tonight is for him, about what he wants, when he wants....his dominance has burst through.

He walks towards me, I look up at him, he has the rope in his hands and a look of total control on his face.

He firmly pushes me to the chair, making me sit, naked, legs open.

He binds me with the rope....across my breasts and stomach, tying me to the chair, stopping occasionally to pull on my hard nipples, twisting the piercings.

The feel of the rope across my skin is sensual, yet firm and binding, I cannot move and yet the more rope he uses, the wetter I am getting.

It is not long before the chair beneath me has a small puddle, leaking from between my open legs...

He walks from the room, coming back minutes later with another chair.

He places the chair in front of mine...facing each other, about 5 feet apart.

He sits, watching me, saying nothing.

I begin to wriggle, wanting something, not knowing what he has planned.

He opens his jeans, taking his cock out, showing it to me, showing me how hard it is, but still says nothing.

He begins to stroke it, watching me the whole time. I cannot take my eyes off his cock, watching his stroke it turns me on...it wishes it was me being allowed to stroke it, touch it, worship it.

It is not long before he stands, walking towards me, he runs his hand up and down the shaft right before my eyes.... occasionally wiping it across my cheek, letting the tip brush my lips, and yet the minute my tongue comes out for a taste, he moves it out of reach.

My pussy is aching, feeling empty, it is clenching looking for something inside it, wanting that cock buried deep.

He takes hold of my ponytail, holding my head at a strange angle, showing me that I am there for his use, his playtoy tonight.

He uses one hand to tap his cock against my lips, letting me taste him, my tongue slipping into the slit on the tip, tasting the precum, wishing for more.

He takes hold of my jaw, opening my mouth, holding my head still as I look up at him.

He pushes his cock deep to the back of my throat, gagging me, making me choke. He holds it there, showing me it is HIS choice how this will happen, when HE is ready, on HIS terms.

He alternates between letting me worship his cock with my tongue and lips to taking control and face fucking me, pushing it deep, making sure the drool drips from my chin, my eyes black with the makeup tears.

His voice is in my ear as his cock is in my throat, telling me all the things he wants to do to me, how he intends to use me, take me, make me his.

He takes control again, moving back to look at my face while he jerks himself off in front of me...looking at the damage he has done, the tear trails, the precum wiped all over my cheeks, the drool on my chin and dripping down onto my breasts....it is like he is surveying the damage, to see if I can be pushed further.

I am desperate for his cock, I am after all, his little cum slut, never getting enough of him, the taste of him, his cum in me, on me, tasting it, wearing it, watching it...I cannot get enough.

He feeds me his cock once more, making sure that he can see my eyes as it pushes down the back of my throat, choking me, my eyes beginning to water once again.....

He pulls back..his hand holding my chin, forcing my head upwards, as he cums on my face...leaving me wearing the evidence of his control, and leaving me in a puddle, bound to the chair.