Is there something you want, my dear?

Is there something I can... help you with?

You look so beautiful, there on the bed, quivering just slightly. It must be uncomfortable, to be bound in such a way, trying to keep your balance on the unpredictable bed springs.

But it makes me want you all the more.

I have been standing here, just admiring you, for minutes, though it must seem like hours to you. Your hair, how it flows gently over your shoulders, except for those few strands in disarray. I know that you'd brush them aside, but you can't. I've done too good a job.

Your legs, tied together at the ankles, then again below the knee, then again just above, and finally at mid-thigh. Those white ropes stand out in stark contrast to your pale skin, almost blinding in their brightness. And your arms... I can't see your arms from this side, so I circle around you to admire my own work. Tied off at the wrists - I notice you squirm ever so slightly against them - then again below the elbows, again above, and then as high as I could make them go. I've pulled your shoulders so far back that I think you shoulder blades might touch. So far that your breasts strain against the flimsy piece of lingerie that you chose to wore tonight... chose because you know how it pleases me. Pleases me, indeed, to see your bright pink nipples push out against the cups, almost as if they would poke a hole right through the fabric.

I'm on the bed now, admiring your bondage up close. You stumble a bit as I kneel down behind you, but my hands come up and hold you at the shoulders. Your skin feels so warm... but I'm sure that those are goose bumps which adorn your arms and back. Gently, I brush my fingertips down your arms. I can feel the electricity flowing across your skin... that perfect blend of pleasurable touch, with the slightest tickle.

How good it would feel to encircle you in my arms, and just hold you, my love. Are you picturing that, as I am, right now?

Of course you are.

I bring my hands around to your torso, gently rubbing the fabric covering your stomach. The lace under my fingers feels so soft, so delicate... just like you, my dear. My delicate flower, my beautiful lover... and my devoted slave.

I lean forward just a bit too far, and my cock rubs up against the palms of your bound hands. Your eyes flutter open in an instant, and your hand closes around my penis. I grunt once as the pleasure threatens to take me over, but then I realize my mistake and roughly push you away, tumbling you over forwards onto your stomach.

Your ass, covered in those white panties, begs to me to be taken. Begs to be bared naked to the world, and penetrated, and shamed, and fulfilled all at the same time.

But that, my love, would be too easy.

I reach out to the nightstand, where I have placed a pair of scissors beforehand. I can feel the coldness of the stainless steel as I open and close them quickly in my right hand. With my left, I reach out and pull you upright by your shoulder.

What shall I do with these, my dear? Is there something you wish to have removed? Your eyes meet mine as I circle around in front of you again. In the briefest instant, I can see that glorious emotion that courses thorough your veins, and the sheer power of it causes my erection to pulse.

Is it fear? Do you fear me, my love? Do you fear what I will do with you, that you are so helpless to resist? Are you afraid that I will simply forgo these formalities, this foreplay, and simply rape you as if you were no more than a stranger? Do you fear the harsh penetration of my cock, the sting of a spanking, the scratch of a fingernail, the dull ache of abused breasts?

Or is it that there is no where else that you'd rather be at this moment?

It is that combination of emotions which I can read in your eyes which excites me so much.

Nevertheless, you have allowed your gaze to meet mine, and you are well aware that you are forbidden to do so. I snip the scissors quickly, and suddenly you realize your mistake. Averting your eyes again, I see you tremble.

What shall I do with you?

I open the blades of the scissors and kneel on the bed again. Ever so gently, I touch the point of a blade to your shoulder, and run it slowly up to your neck. Shall I simply cut the strap on your neglige, and perhaps relieve just a bit of your tension? No, the blade skips over the strap and continues to scratch your skin lightly. Perhaps I shall cut a lock of your hair for each time you disobey me. But no, I could never disturb something so beautiful as your glorious mane.

No, instead I pull the blade away from your neck and stare at you again. I touch a finger to your chin to lift your head, and for the first time notice the expression in your lips. So soft, and so full, they are just slightly parted. I believe I can feel you panting, my dear! Your warm breath comes faster than I remember, perhaps in anticipation...?

The blades of the scissors close quickly, and I watch you jump, scared that I may have done something decisive. But no, my love, I could never injure you. I have simply cut the elastic garter belt which holds those stockings over your beautiful legs... and now I peel it off you, pausing to cut each strap and free the stocking from the belt.

What have I here... a strip of fabric, about an inch wide, and long enough to go around your body.

It will make a perfect blindfold. What better way to punish your transgression of the eyes?

My penis feels harder than I ever thought possible. It twitches of its own accord. Do you understand what you do to me? I may be the master, and you may be the slave, but your beauty holds such power over me that I am helpless to resist it.

Almost as helpless as you are to resist me, here, now.

I catch a faint glimmer in the light. Your panties, worthless to some degree, are sopping wet now. I simply must do something about that... it will not do for you to soak down these satin sheets with your fluids.

Again, to the nightstand. I do not own a great deal of toys; I feel that they get in the way of my pleasure... of our pleasure. But there is one item which I know you are fond of, for you frequently use it when other occupations distract me. It, besides me, is perhaps your most intimate companion. And it suits the job nicely.

I twist the dial and the vibrator hums to life, sounding like a slow bumblebee on its lowest setting. I don't have much room to work, with your legs bound together as they are, but I don't need much, either. The mere touch of the plastic substitute causes you to jump again. I press a finger into your crotch, feeling the moisture through the panties, and I fear that we may turn this matress into a waterbed. But I digress. I push you over onto your back, grab your ankles where they are tied and lift them straight into the air. Using one finger to pull the crotch of your panties aside, I take the vibrator in the other hand and press it directly into your pussy.

You are so wet, the entire length disappears at once. I arrange the elastic of the panties again, to hold the dildo in place. Your mouth drops open, caught between suprise at the sudden intrusion and the immense pleasure which fills you from below. But despite your already hightened state of arousal, I have cheated you again - I have not turned the vibrator on high enough to push you over your limit. I watch you nearing your apex once, then twice; squirming, trying to put enough pressure on the object, trying to make it touch just the right place, but it is no use.