My tongue circles first one areola, then the other. I can feel the gooseflesh rising under my lingual ministrations; and for good measure I exhale gently, the cool air causing the nipples to stiffen more quickly and the gooseflesh to become more pronounced, before going back with my mouth: tongue circles, teeth graze and gently bite, lips pull and warm and then the cool air again, over and over. I take an ice cube and trace the circle, chilling it before pulling the cold flesh into my mouth, restoring it to body temperature.

Your back arches: you long for more attention, here and elsewhere. I raise my head and kiss you deeply; at the same time I raise my hand and spank you, hard, between the legs. Your back arches more, as if you are trying to pull further pleasure directly from the air. I spank again, then twist a nipple while I hold your hands, binding your wrists above your head. My free hand pulls a rope from beneath the bed, wraps it around your wrists, and ties it off. You writhe, and I slap you hard between the legs. I grab your face in my other hand, and look you in the eye: you want to look away, and know you can’t, while my hand slides from your cheeks and chin to your throat, caressing and threatening at the same time. I lower my head and whisper in your ear, my tongue reaching lightly into the folds.

Slowly, my tongue travels your body: ear to neck, neck to mouth, mouth to throat. Clavicles. Breasts, paying lingering attention to every square centimeter before moving to your abdomen, inhaling your musk on my way past your thighs and down your legs. All the while you moan, and work against the rope binding your wrists. Your legs have remained free, and now I select a flogger from the table and begin to work you over, revisiting with the flogger almost every place my lips have been, from your shoulders to your breasts, flicking the nipples artfully (and painfully). No part of your legs is spared, and when I stop momentarily to admire the marks you move your ankles closer together. I react with the flogger, making sure you spread your legs so that I can resume my oral ministrations, first around your pussy and clit and then circling your asshole. I rise and continue to worry you, randomly, with the flogger; when I push my free hand towards your mouth, my meaning is clear and you obediently lick and suck my fingers.

I take my wet fingers — as if they needed lubrication — and push them into your throbbing pussy, spreading your juices to your ass before I insert my third finger there, pushing in and out of your two holes rhythmically, steadily, watching you buck and beg for release.

And at the same time, while I mercilessly finger-fuck you, the flogger continues to beat around the bush.