God, she had so many questions, but she remained tight-lipped, wanting nothing more than to find out what was going on.
“Without disturbing that blindfold, move up until your head hits a pillow,”
Marco directed authoritatively.
Chyna did as he commanded, trying to make it up the bed without messing up her million-dollar dress. When her head found purchase, she sighed, falling backward into the pillow. It was comforting and reassuring, and she needed that for whatever Marco had in store.
She heard a soft beep, and then Marco’s footsteps moved from the foot of the bed up to the top. He reached out and stroked her dark hair, back across her br**sts, down her stomach that was still thinly covered by the sheer material, across the exposed sensitive skin between her legs, and back again. Her body was pulsing with desire. She wished he would just take her already, but she knew the waiting—him drawing it out like this— would only make it better.
A soft leather cuff encircled her small wrist. When she pulled on it, it didn’t give, and she realized she was trapped.
For a second, she felt immobilized and terrified. With this amount of power, he could do whatever he wanted with her. He could terrorize her. He could tease her endlessly. Whatever he was thinking in his twisted mind, he could enact on her body for his own pleasure.
Yet, as she felt the second and third cuffs circle her ankles, the terror began to fade as her desire heightened. She wanted this. She didn’t know exactly what he would do, but that was all the fun. He was in control, and she wanted what he was going to give her. By the time the final cuff wrapped around her left wrist, she was wet and needy.
“And, I thought I liked the blindfold,”
he said. His voice came from the end of the bed as if he were standing there, admiring his handiwork. “Now, don’t move.”
He chuckled to himself softly. She heard his footsteps growing fainter, and then she couldn’t hear them at all. What the f**k?! Had he just tied her up here and left her? She wiggled against her bonds in frustration, but as she had felt with the first wrist, they wouldn’t budge. She was trapped somewhere in Marco’s apartment, wearing a goddamn expensive dress, handcuffed and blindfolded to a bed she didn’t recognize…and Marco disappeared.
Fuck!
She didn’t know how long he was gone. She couldn’t judge time very well when she was tied to a bed and blindfolded, but sitting there, each excruciatingly painful minute ticked by like an hour. After a couple of minutes or hours, whichever, his footsteps returned, and she had never been more thankful. He had tied her up before but never in a strange place, and he had never left her. It made her feel unsettled, and it was amazing how soothing it was to have him return after she had been so terrified of his presence.
What she did recognize was a very familiar click, flash, and whir. “Are you photographing me?”
she demanded, shaking her body and pulling against her bonds.
“I said to leave the questions until later,” he said, his voice turning to ice. “I also thought I told you not to move.”
Chyna stilled her body reluctantly. “I must look f**king perfect if you’re photographing me like this.”
“I’ve never seen anything more perfect,” he said, snapping another round of pictures. “Plant your feet on the bed and lift your ass into the air.”
She was used to taking orders from him when he had a camera in his hands, and she found her body listening to him without complaint. Even though she was all but nude from the waist down, leaving her completely exposed, she still reveled in the fact that he found her perfect. Who was the twisted one?
The familiar sounds of a photo shoot filled the room, and she wondered what exactly he was taking a picture of. Was it a good shot? God, she couldn’t believe these were the thoughts crossing her mind right now. And, somehow, she was still incredibly turned on, maybe even more so than before.
She felt his weight shift the bed as he crawled on top of her. His skin brushed up against her, and she realized he had removed his pants. His hand softly rested on her stomach, pressing it back into the mattress. He straddled her and took a series of pictures from his new vantage point. His thumb flickered over her breast, causing her to arch her back. She pulled against her bonds, wanting nothing more than to take control, but he wouldn’t allow it. Her mouth opened with desire as he pinched the other nipple between his fingers. He took the opportunity to trail his thumb across her body to her lip. He slipped his thumb into her mouth. She closed her lips around it, swirling her tongue and sucking on it greedily. The camera went off again as she teased his thumb the way she wanted to tease his dick.
He groaned and pulled it out of her mouth. He then reached behind himself and placed his now wet thumb directly on her clit. She moaned at the feel of him touching her, extracting heightened pleasure from her. The camera went off again, and this time she didn’t even care.
Two of his fingers had expertly inserted themselves into her, and they were working her pu**y as his thumb swirled in circles on her clit. She could already feel her impending climax approaching, and she tightened and released around his fingers as she sought that release.
But, he would have none of it. As she lay there breathless and close to spent, he removed his fingers and hopped off the bed. Her body was humming. She had never wanted release more than in this moment.
“Panting is so damn sexy,” he mused, his hand trailing up her calf, over her knee, and around her inner thighs.
She jumped at the first touch and prayed he would continue farther south.
“I’d like that to continue. Would you?”
he asked.
“Touching me? Yes!”
“Panting,” he said, running his fingers back up her thighs.
She groaned. Her body demanded more and more, but he wasn’t giving it to her.
“I’ll pant all night long if you get over here and f**k me,” she said into the darkness.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, grabbing her thighs and pulling her down farther on the bed.
She yanked against her chains, causing a soft yelp to escape her lips as the cuffs chaffed against her wrists. Her shoulders were stretched as far as they could go.
“Is this how you want me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as the pain in her shoulders and wrists eased.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said, pulling on her legs once more.
“Yes!” she yelled out. “God, yes!”