whips and chains excite me

[wingsofgoodbye]

On the whole, Sheryl really does like dating Slaine. Oh sure, the media can be a big pain in the ass sometimes, with one of the world's most popular singers dating an up-and-coming young actor. (She's already sick of the word "Sherlaine.") But he's sweet. He treats her well. And frankly, the sex is great. She loves that part.

She's always been more adventurous and freewheeling, though. So it had taken a little coaxing to get him to agree to this, but Sheryl's confident they'll both have fun getting out of their usual boxes.

She's prepared well. Her staff has been dismissed for the night, which means it's just the two of them in her large home in the hills up above Los Angeles. With high hedges and walls, there's no paparazzi in sight. She's cleaned out a room in the basement, too, leaving it bare save for a comfortable mattress tucked into the corner and a stool in the middle. (With a comfortable cushion on it. She's not some sort of savage.)

She's currently sitting on that stool in a sheer lacy white robe, tied right below and between her breasts, that really doesn't do much to cover them. The only other things she's wearing are an equally lacy pair of white stockings held up by a garter belt, and a very skimpy white thong. It's a far cry from the full dress uniform she'd procured for her boyfriend. (God, he looks good in uniform, she thinks.)

Unfortunately, he's also trying to tie her up, and he could be doing a little better at that. "Slaine," she says, rolling her eyes. "It needs to be tighter! I can still move my arms, you know."

Comments

[brokenbase]

Just because Slaine is preventing Sheryl from speaking doesn't mean he can't listen to the muffled sounds behind secure cloth, or see her squirm a bit once he shifts his position on the bed some more. She's not the only one aroused, if the erection denting the fabric of his underwear is any more obvious, not to mention a little too tight.

As he carefully tilts his girlfriend's body over so that he's pushing her on her back, the ropes strategically placed across her skin is impossible to ignore. How improper, he thinks, teal eyes lingering on a strap near her crotch; it doesn't look comfortable to him. Sheryl sure comes up with the most outrageous ideas to loosen him up.

Swallowing yet another lump, Slaine allows his hand to slowly rest on that area, pushing it away from the slit and— oh. His fingers are shivering and his back turns rigid, a shaky breath drawn out from his lips. It's only been a few moments ago that he fondled her right there. Hard to forget how Sheryl felt and sounded from beneath his fingertips, only he was pretending to be someone else.

This time, however, he'll touch her again — as himself. Far unlike his previous movements, it's as gentle as he can make it while pressing his palm against the crux of her thighs, slow and steady, almost experimentally to see how she looks.

[wingsofgoodbye]

She turns easily onto her back, partially because she's bound and partially because she'd much rather not be looking down at the mattress for the next few minutes. Sheryl's face is flushed, her breathing already heavy with arousal; she still gives Slaine a momentary glare as if to register her disapproval with his earlier behavior. It's really just Sheryl being Sheryl, though.

Her hands are bound behind her back (now underneath her), her legs bent and tied. She can, however, spread her legs for him, which she does eagerly, because please take the hint, Slaine. She's practically glistening, and when his fingers touch her heat, she audibly moans through the fabric of the gag, arching her back and trying to push into the touch.

The next time she looks up at him, it's pleading, desperate. This is not the time to be gentle and exploratory, Slaine.