Steve opened his eyes, quickly realising it had not been a dream — he really was tied up. His arms were pulled over his head, making his shoulders ache fiercely. Scrabbling, he managed to get his feet under him to take his weight, reducing the strain on his arms and shoulders. His wrists weren't tied, they were chained, the links running up to a beam in the ceiling. His jacket and shirt were gone — he was bare-chested, barefoot and, judging by the blood, he'd been in a fight.
The last thing he remembered was leaving a bar after successfully hustling enough to keep him for the next few days. How the hell had he ended up in this predicament?
He looked around. He was in a dark, windowless room; the one light bulb struggling to make an impact in the large area. It was damp and cool, probably a basement. He thought he could see a staircase in the gloom off to one side. The room appeared empty, apart from a straight back chair just far enough away to be hard to see, and the female straddling it.
Amber was leaning over the back of the chair, her arms crossed, watching him. When she noticed he'd seen her, she stood up and moved toward him.
His attention on her was now total. She was tall, with long flowing hair, cascading over her bare shoulders and contrasting vividly with the emerald green brocade corset. Below that was a short black skirt and it was all topped off with impossibly high spiked heels. As a package she was stunning, and Steve found his eyes roaming across her amazing cleavage to her nipped in waist as she approached and wondering if maybe he really was dreaming.
She smiled as she crossed the room, just watching this one was almost good enough. He sure was handsome, and strong. She watched the hard muscle in his shoulders, arms and chest flex as he tried to ease the strain on them.
He was also too cocky, she decided as she watched the smirk grow as his eyes roamed her body, the bulge in his jeans matching the size of the grin.
Stopping inches from him, Amber reached out and grabbed the bulge with one hand. When he gasped, she used her other hand to stuff a leather ball gag in his mouth, then quickly reached around and buckled it up at the back of his head. That should take care of the smirk, and any unnecessary chatter.
His eyes had taken on a decidedly wary expression. She ran her fingernails lightly across his chest. "It's all right, baby. I won't hurt you..." her eyes followed the track of her nails, " ... much. I just prefer silence. Now let's do something about that blood, before it spreads."
She moved behind Steve and he could hear water running. She marvelled at how her hands shook just at the thought of touching him. Oh, my, this one really was intoxicating. A rare find and well worth the effort.
When she next came into view she had a small basin of water with a cloth floating in it. She quickly wiped clean his chest, neck and face, paying particular attention to one eyebrow, trying to hide her growing excitement from him. It would never do to give it away just yet.
There must have been some sort of antiseptic in the water, because it stung like a bastard, making Steve flinch away. Amber ignored him, with an effort, she wanted to soothe him and enfold him. But it would be much more fun this way. She efficiently completed her task, moving behind him again, reappearing reappear empty handed.
"That's better, but there's still room for improvement."
She undid his belt and jeans and lowered them and his underwear to the floor. With lightning speed, she jabbed him in the belly, making him grunt and try to double over. His feet left the floor and she whipped the clothing off and tossed it aside. He groaned at the added pressure on his arms and shoulders and stumbled to get his feet under himself again.
She stood back and analysed her prey, slowly walking around him. The view from the back was almost as good as the front. Strong, broad muscular back tapering down to small firm butt, but no, not quite as good as the front — those eyes, the chest ... pity she'd had to cover that marvellous mouth, but there were other, erhm, compensations.
Her chest tightened at the mere thought that he was all hers, to do with as she would.
She turned and strode across the room, her arse swinging as she balanced on those impossible heels, to study him from a distance.
"Lovely as this picture is, it will never do."
Swinging back across the room, she moved behind Steve again. He heard something being moved. Suddenly he felt the weight of the chains increase above him, and his arms became slack. Unaware he hadn't been balanced, he stumbled, his knees hooked on something directly behind him and he sat heavily. His arms were now stretched high above and behind him. He was sitting on an iron bed frame, covered with a thin mattress.
She loomed behind him and passed a heavy leather strap around the chains at his wrists and pulled him backward into a lying position, feeding the strap through the bars at the top of the bed and buckling it at the back.
Steve closed his eyes, his shoulders and chest screaming their relief. His arms were still chained over his head, but he had some free movement and was no longer supporting most of his weight that way.
.... There is more of this story ...