I am such a creature of tactile indulgence.
The heavy weight of the chains. Locked on, and pulling my legs drastically to the sides. The total opposite of a spreader bar.
The soft, velvety feel of the blanket beneath me.
Those hands, warm, and then sharp as they slap and pinch and prod.
The firm, but not ungentle darkness of the blindfold. Clinging to my brow, but not preventing me from opening my eyes in total blackness.
The unyielding leather of the cuffs on both my wrists. Not really serving a purpose for physical bondage, but assisting in head space.
The chills that run down my spine as you beat my breasts with your fists.
The sopping, wetness I feel between my legs even from the first moments of your touch.
The cold steel of the nipple clamps, biting, screaming, pleasuring my delighted nipples.
The smoothness of your gloved hands finding their way in and out of my moist places.
The scratchy, unrelenting feel of the sisal rope on my ribs.
The hardness of the thigh bruises, as you slap my thighs harder and harder, blood pooling and making blue spots.
The smooth feel of The Intensity slowly being inserted, and inflated to your fancy.
The tingling of the zap, zap, zaps, and then the twitch, twitch, twitch of my O as you turn the machine up even higher.
The slippery feel of your cock in my hand, with pre-cum dripping all over me.
The sharpness of your teeth in my thigh, as my cunt swells and I melt, melt, melt into the table.
The feel of your cock hardening and getting bigger in my hand, as I feel you lightly teasing my already sore and overstimulated bits.
The chill of the goosebumps running down my neck and breasts as you unbind me, and tell me to bend over the table with one knee by my face.
That painful penetration, as I’ve already cum just a moment before and I’m still too stimulated.
The thump, thump, thump of your cock against my g-spot as you penetrate me, and grip my hips.
That feeling once we’ve both cum and I’m so overstimulated, I don’t want to be touched for at least an hour.