Raylene leaned forward awkwardly. Her wrists were tied behind her back, using her old school uniform tie. I’d taken two dressing gown cords to tie her shins to her thighs, so that she was forced to remain in her kneeling position. It wasn’t elegant but it was effective.
I’d tied one of her silk scarves, shining and peach, around her eyes. She was folded, and blind. She could focus instead on the feel of my cock in her mouth, and its reactions when she closed her lips on the shaft, and laved it with her tongue.
I kept mostly still, letting her do the work, savouring the warm smooth wetness of her mouth.
I’d taken a generous grip of her hair and held her head against me. I let her ease backwards when she showed signs of choking, but carefully so she could feel that she could only back off from my cock as much as I allowed. When she’d relaxed I’d push her head firmly back onto my cock. I felt she could reasonably feel helpless: helplessly tied, helplessly held and helplessly serving.
It drifted into my mind that I didn’t know how to end this. I was hard in the loving care of Raylene’s mouth, but I didn’t think there was any chance of my coming. And she might feel she’d failed if I didn’t.
I supposed I could suddenly push her all the way back onto her back and fuck her with her thighs and wrists still tied. That would be uncomfortable, and hot. And if she came then she wouldn’t know whether I had.
In the meantime Raylene kept her head down, sucking hard, her head bobbing on my cock as she worked. The razor strop was beside her right knee and I picked it up and let it fall across her shoulder. She made a noise through her nose, of protest or acceptance; I couldn’t tell. But she knew what that touch from the strop meant, all right.
But I heard, more or less subconsciously, the front door being opened and closed, very quietly. Then, less quietly a tall girl pounding up the stairs. Raylene’s door had drifted open while we’d been distracted, so that wasn’t going to hold her. I grabbed the sheet and draped it over Raylene and, for that matter, most of me.
“What? Look, welcome back, Dorabella. Now go away.”
But then there was squirming on my cock, and a wordless protesting noise. Apparently that was wrong. I said, “Ah. Okay. Two cups of tea, apparently.”