“From the way you look, you won’t need much time.”
He grinned. “No, I won’t. And I want no complaints since you just came twice.”
She lifted both hands in surrender, the solid gold band on her left ring finger catching her attention briefly. “Fine. No complaints. For now.”
He climbed back on the bed, considering it and her for a few seconds. Then his grin widened. “How does my little sadist want me?”
“Flat on your back. In a starfish. I’m not tying you up but I want you to pretend you are. That means, unless I instruct you to move, don’t.”
She moved out of the way, and let him spread out as requested, not a complaint to be heard. He stretched his long arms and legs until his hands and feet were almost touching each corner of the king-sized bed. His erection was lying on his hip, a thick string of precum connecting the tip to the ridge of muscle there.
When she leaned over and quickly licked it away, he jerked. She lifted her head. “Don’t move.”
“That was involuntary.”
“Mmm hmm.”
She reached under the pillows and pulled out the chain first. His eyes focused on that and a flush rose up from his chest onto his throat, where she could see his pulse begin to pound.
Oh yes. It had been a long time since they’d used it and his reaction showed her that they needed to use it more often, just like the gel.
He said nothing, but his body went electric as she hooked the clamps to the small gold rings. The chain was long enough she could use them as reins.
She awkwardly straddled his waist, the head of his cock pressing against one of her ass cheeks, the slippery beads of fluid from the crown smearing against her skin.
This time when she reached under the pillow, she pulled out the feather. She twirled it within her fingers right in front of his face. His eyes went wide for only a split moment, then narrowed. But still, he said nothing.
He liked it rough. She liked it rough.
A feather was not rough. It was torture.
She brushed the feather over her closed lips, her chin, her neck, her chest and circled each nipple. After making sure her nipples were nice and peaked again, she continued over her rounded belly, past her pussy until she reached him.
His stomach lurched slightly when she lightly touched him.
“Don’t move,” she reminded firmly.
“Pull the chain.” He wasn’t asking...
“When I’m ready.”
“Leah...”
She touched the feather to his lips. “Hush.”
He hushed.
She started where she straddled him and slid the long, soft feather up over his six-pack—yes, he still had one at forty-one, just not as distinct as when she first met him—and she took her time, teasing his pierced and chained nipples lightly with the very tip.
“Leah,” he groaned, his muscles tightening. A sign he was struggling to obey her orders of not moving.
“Hmm?”
She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one because he knew better than to complain. Complaining only extended the torture. The torture in this moment, being the soft touch of a feather.
She swept it down both sides of his face, along his nose, over his lips again, which were now parted as he panted slightly.
The precum was leaking steadily against the skin of her ass, where his cock was pressed. He also kept flexing it against her, giving her an indication of just how hard he was.
Which meant he was ready to explode.
“Stay there,” she whispered, with a last brush of the ostrich feather over his chest, nipples and stomach. Then she carefully climbed off of him and the bed, and headed into the bathroom to check the tub.
“Leah!” he shouted.
She smiled as she turned off the water since it was over the level it needed to be for two people. Water would be spilled but it would be worth it.
Now they needed to hurry up before it turned cold.
But she didn’t hurry, she took her time. Before she stepped out of the bathroom she said, “You better not have moved. I have a photographic memory.”
“I would know if you did!” he shouted, sounding very frustrated.
“I just never told you because I was waiting for the right moment.” She stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the bed. “And now it is...” She gasped dramatically. “You moved!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“No nipple play for you,” she scolded as she went back to the bed.
“Leah,” he groaned.
She climbed back over him, staying on her knees so her wet pussy didn’t touch his skin. She scooched back just enough to hover over his cock, then lowered herself to slide her slick folds along his length.
“Fuck... Leah... please...”
His face was flush, his eyes dark and unfocused, his body slightly trembling.
“Well, since you said ‘please’...” She picked the chain off his chest and held it within her fingers, but not pulling, which was what he wanted. She scraped her fingernail over the tips of both nipples, pulling a groan from him. Lifting her hips again, she reached down to grab his pulsing cock, and adjusted herself until the slick head of it was tucked right between her folds. She slid the crown back and forth a couple times, his eyes fluttering closed and his jaw getting tight.
In one combined motion, she yanked hard on the chain at the same time she sank down. His back arched away from the bed, but he managed to keep his legs and arms in the starfish pose, where she told him to keep them.
She was impressed he could do it.
She continued to pull on the chain, the gold hoops stretching his nipples to the point they couldn’t stretch anymore. He groaned again, even louder, his head rolling back and his hips pressing upward, driving himself deeper inside her.
“Oh fuck... I’m going to come.”
She yanked harder on the chain—knowing his flesh wouldn’t rip, but still always worried it would—and rode his cock, taking her time, rising and falling in a leisurely manner, knowing he’d prefer her pace to be much quicker.
“Leah.” Her name turned into a low moan. “I’m going to come.”
“Wait for me.”
“I need to come,” he begged.
“Wait for me,” she said again, softly.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. When I tell you, you can come deep inside me.”
“Yes,” he hissed, lifting his head off the pillow. “I need that.”
She did, too.
“How soon?”
“Hush!”
He slammed his head back into the pillow and released a growl.
Dropping the chain, she leaned forward, unhooked it and tossed it aside, making him whimper. Planting her hands on his chest, she snagged both nipple rings between her thumbs and forefingers and twisted as hard as she could. His head, as well as his hips, shot up again, the tendons in his neck straining scarily, almost knocking her off balance. She managed to stay with him and began to ride him faster.
She wanted to come a third time.
“Oh fuck,” he forced between gritted teeth, his eyes rolling back and his hips following an opposite direction than hers. When she rose, he’d drop his hips. Until she finally slammed down hard on him, grinding in a circle and her orgasm peaking and tumbling down around her, dragging her with it.