Cowl (N&V 116)

Hands. So many hands all over me. Pawing, groping, caressing. Pulling, pushing, kneading. 

The cowl prevents me from seeing anything, and muffles my hearing, but my mouth is free. That doesn’t matter, though, since nothing I say or scream or beg makes any difference. With my arms bound together under me, and my ankles tied apart, I’m not going anywhere. But my legs are otherwise unbound. I keep them closed as firmly as I can. 

One, two, four hands slowly pry my knees apart and then hold them open while palms and fingers massage my inner thighs. I can only moan in helpless protest as the flat of one hand begins to rub slow circles around my belly, while another presses between my legs, sliding down to let fingers slide between my folds.

“She’s wet,” a distant sounding voice says as the fingers push into me, and then slide out and back in. I start to shake my head in denial when another hand wraps around my chin, thumb slipping into my protesting mouth, pressing into my tongue.

“Whore,” another voice says, much closer, as if the speaker’s lips are right next to my covered ears. “Slut.”

I try to cry “No!” but a finger swipes across my clit and turns the intended protest into a gasp, and a lie. I strain to close my legs, to struggle free of the ropes. The hands hold me spread, hold me down, easily.

“Yes,” the voice says as the fingers started fucking me. “You’re ripe. And empty. And wanting. You need it. You’re begging for it.”

I moan again, desperately shaking my head as fingers swirl over my clit, and then slide deep.

“You’re going to cum on just those fingers.”

They move faster, curling inside me in search of my most sensitive spot.

“You’ll cum on the tongue that follows.” 

Hands squeeze each breast, pinching each nipple.

“And you’ll cum on each cock that fills you up.”

The hand at my mouth has let go, so the frantic wail that escapes my lips is completely unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore. You won’t be able to, soon. We know what you need, and we’re going to give it to you.”

I shake my head as the fingers, practically vibrating inside me, slide against my g-spot and I jerk.

“Ah, there. I told you.”

Pleasure stings me, rises with panic. My mind screams I don’t want this! as my memory flashes the meticulous planning that went into this moment. I’m not like this! as I arranged and prepared.

I have one last breath to whisper a pleading “no” before the pressure and sensation of the fingers force me over the edge for the first time of many.

Yes. Yes I am exactly like this.

Categories: Blindfold, Bondage, Dominance & Submission, Erotic Fiction, Forced Orgasm, Group, Monocle, Nightmares & Visions, ReluctanceTags: , , , ,

Monocle

I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

Share your thoughts.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.