Sergei's eyes widened behind his blindfold and he took a sharp breath. He honestly didn't think she'd had it in her to be so dominating but Maggie, as he was learning, loved to prove him wrong. He heard her fish out an ice cube from the glass which she set on the little table by the bed.
"Scared yet?" she asked a little maliciously. Sergei shivered.
"Of you or of the ice?" came the response. Maggie smiled as she reached out and ran the ice cube lightly along his bottom lip.
"Well," she said thoughtfully as she heard him take another quick, deep breath, "either. Or both."
"I trust you," he replied immediately, emphasizing the word "you". "But the ice makes me nervous."
She laughed and let the ice continue on its path down his chest. He squirmed just a bit as she replied, "Don't worry, it'll melt. Eventually," she added with a little chuckle.
Her tone, while not exactly malevolent, was certainly not meant to reassure him. He swallowed hard and held his breath while she traced an indistinct pattern over his stomach, leaving a damp trail where the ice had indeed begun to melt. She continued to run the ice over him, grinning evilly to herself when he gasped and bit his lip as she grazed his nipples. He began to pull weakly at the ties that bound his wrists and ankles, not seriously wanting to be free but not able to be still anymore. Her movements were so seductive, so deliberate, knowing exactly what would make him the hottest.
The first ice cube had melted, leaving nothing more than a little puddle in Maggie's palm. She reached for the glass, meaning to get another ice cube but she paused in mid-action when Sergei whimpered, just a bit. She raised an amused eyebrow and looked at him closely.
"You want me to stop?" she asked, more in jest than seriousness. He gulped and pulled again at the ties without much conviction.
"No... yes..." He was having trouble deciding and finally blurted, "How much ice did you get!"
Maggie had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing out loud. "A cupful. Oh, I get it. No more ice cubes, is that it?"
He nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes."
She gave a slightly longing look at the glass. It was so much fun though, she thought ruefully. But looking back at Sergei, breathing so quickly he was almost panting and aroused to the point of what looked to be nearly painful, she pushed the glass away.
"All right," she said smoothly, "no more ice." Taking a deep breath, curious as to how far she could push him before he had had enough, she opened her hand, still damp from the ice, and reached between his legs, lightly slapping his balls. She didn't do it nearly hard enough to make it painful, but it surprised him nevertheless.
He gasped, a quick little sound and Maggie grinned. "I owed you that. That was for talking when I told you to be quiet," she told him, leaving her hand where it was but now only gently cupping his balls. The dampness of her palm was now beginning to warm up.
Sergei lay very still, the surprise still evident on his face. He almost couldn't believe she'd done that and the reality of his situation began to sink in then. She could do whatever she wanted to him. Just a little bit more force in that slap and he knew exactly how badly it would have hurt. And Maggie apparently had no qualms about being the one in control, complete control. He shivered at that thought, but the fear refused to stop gnawing at the back of his thoughts.
His mind flip-flopped back and forth, and his fingers twitched a bit as he debated. He trusted her, he really did. But...
Maggie watched him very carefully, noting the movement in his hands. She knew that she'd made him think twice about all of this, and she stared at him intently. She could almost see the internal struggle. His fingers would move, and then he would relax again. Maggie watched and he finally relaxed once more, finally. He still didn't look comfortable, though. She leaned down next to him and whispered sweetly and genuinely, "You can snap them anytime, baby. It's all right." Meanwhile, her hand was gently massaging and caressing him, strangely reassuring.
He sighed when he heard her voice, moving his head closer to hers, and to Maggie, it sounded as if it might have been a sigh of relief. She waited but he remained silent.
It was a sigh of relief but not quite the way Maggie had taken it. How could he ever have been afraid of her, he asked himself. How could he even think that she would hurt him? She had made him stop and think, but he knew her, and he also knew he trusted her. He took another deep breath and relaxed further into the mattress, his hands once again motionless on the bed.
She waited another minute expectantly, but Sergei didn't move except to move his hips just a bit as she continued to caress him. Maggie kissed him warmly, smiling a little when, as she pulled back, he whined just a tiny bit. She bent down again and let the tip of her tongue drag across his lower lip. He lifted his head but she pulled away again, teasing, instead resting her cheek against his and placing her lips on his neck. He inhaled sharply and tried to move, meaning to kiss her but she straightened up once more.
This was going to be on her terms only.
Sergei sighed, frustrated. He hadn't realized just how difficult this was going to be. He shifted his position and after what seemed like a very long time, finally felt her lips again on his neck, this time moving down to his collarbone and then back up the other side. She ran one fingertip down the line of his jaw slowly before continuing to kiss her way down his chest.
Despite the noticeable chill in the air - and again Sergei wished the air conditioner wasn't set so low - her entire body was incredibly warm. He could feel the heat from her lips and it made him squirm just a tiny bit, become just that much more frustrated that he couldn't move to, if not satisfy his lust, at least appease it somewhat.
Maggie only smiled as she drew a line down his stomach, stopping at his hips. He held his breath, waiting to feel her hand move even lower, but she left it where he was. With a disappointed sigh, he tried to pull himself upward a little, tried to press himself against her, but she put her hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress.
She was pushing with enough force to hold him there for now, but had he really wanted to, he could have moved. That was the thing; he didn't want to move. He wanted her in control. Maggie stared at him from her position. He was really getting hot now, both literally and figuratively. A few damp pieces of hair were lying on his forehead in little curls and he was breathing heavily, biting his lip. Every now and again, his hips would jerk, an involuntary motion, Maggie was certain. She glanced at the dresser, a little smile on her face.
Well, she thought, if he wants me to touch him, I'm not going to say no.
Without saying a word, she took her hands from his hips, slowly, and slid herself off the bed. Sergei raised his head from the pillow, straining to hear what she was doing but he only heard his own ragged breathing. Presently, he felt her near him once more as she sat down lightly at his right.
It was soft, and it was light, and Sergei knew immediately what it was. In fact, he was almost certain he knew exactly where it had come from, and he imagined the hideous hat that Maggie owned, the byproduct of a bridesmaid's hat gone wrong.
She ran the very tip of the feather down his cheek lovingly and he jumped. His breath caught in his throat as she dragged it from his cheek down his neck. He turned his head to one side, giving her better access and she smiled to herself triumphantly, knowing for certain that he was enjoying this. She spent a great deal of time making indistinct little patterns on his neck and collarbone. From there, she moved lower, down his chest and stomach, over his sides, up and down his legs, everywhere but where he wanted it.
She was making little circles on his hips, thoroughly enjoying the way he had begun to squirm, when he couldn't take it anymore.
"Maggie, please," he breathed. She glanced up at him, surprised at the sound. He had been quiet for so long.
But she wasn't about to go easy on him. "'Maggie, please' what?" she asked in a voice that was so innocent - and so far from the truth - that it was incredibly seductive. He whined and pulled at the ties with a little more force than before. But when it became apparent that she wouldn't do a thing until he answered her, he gave in.
"Please... touch me," he said through clenched teeth. Maggie simply continued making the same little circles, dangerously close but never actually touching him.
She laughed, a not-unpleasant sound but with perhaps a little touch of cruelty. "But I am touching you," she replied.
He made a rather choked sound, and she knew he was getting more frustrated than he'd probably ever been in his life. "Mag-gie!" he cried, dragging out the two syllables, making them interminably long. The desperation in his voice was fast becoming almost pitiful and the somewhat malicious grin that Maggie was wearing fell away from her face, melting into an expression of benevolence.
"Shh," she told him and ran the tip of the feather over his hip one last time and finally dragged it even further toward her, letting it brush very lightly between his thighs. He jumped so violently at the sensation that the bed actually jerked away from the wall an inch or two. Maggie's eyes widened and she stared with amused disbelief, one hand over her mouth. She glanced down at the feather and then back at Sergei, a little wary to do that again. At the rate they were going, he'd move the bed halfway across the room and probably dislocate a wrist or two. But when she looked at his face, there was a hint of a smile there and she hesitated for only a moment more before brushing the edge across the head of Sergei's penis once more.
He didn't jump nearly as badly this time; this time, it was more squirming and from the sound of it, very positive squirming. She moved the feather lower, and then up and down, feeling more like she was painting than anything. Gradually, the ends became damp until she was left with nothing more than a wet strip of what looked a little like fur. Sergei bit his lip but finally couldn't hold back anymore. He started to laugh, and not just laugh, but genuinely giggle. Again, Maggie stopped, simply because of the shock. For a good ten seconds she could only stare, hardly able to believe her ears. At long last, he just sounded so ridiculous, not to mention looked fairly strange too, that Maggie felt herself giving in to laughter of her own. She swallowed it, making an odd noise, and took a deep breath.
And then it occurred to her that instead, or better said, in addition to getting him even hotter, it probably tickled worse than she could ever imagine. She did chuckle then, and changed tactics before she drove him insane. For all your preparing, you're certainly no expert, she thought to herself. Shifting her position a little, she dropped the feather to the floor and reached out her hand, her fingertips barely touching the base of his shaft, and then drew them upward slowly, feeling the moisture collect beneath her fingers. Sergei ground his hips into the mattress helplessly and groaned softly. Maggie silently counted to thirty in her head - a very slow thirty - and then did it again, this time using her entire hand, wrapping her fingers around him and gently sliding her hand up.
This time she was rewarded with a little whine. Again, she counted out a lengthy thirty seconds and did it again, over and over, counting and stroking. Her entire hand was now slick and there was a damp spot on the sheet beneath him. And still she didn't stop, counting and then stroking him, undeterred - in fact, encouraged by - his whimpering and oblivious to his writhing and thrusting toward her hand. Sergei began to pant and when Maggie ran one fingertip down the slit, he half-choked, half-sobbed.
She stopped then and cocked her head to one side. "Is there something you'd like to say?" she asked with a certain condescending tone in her voice.
Sergei gasped for breath, having a very hard time finding enough air to get the words out. "Maggie," he said, and her name was more of a frustrated sigh than an actual word.
She smiled an evil smile, once again slipping into the role. "You keep saying that," she remarked blithely, unconcerned as she rubbed him again, taking her time. He didn't respond, couldn't respond, really, and the grin widened. "What do you want me to do?" she asked him, proud of the amount of irritation she managed to put into her voice.
"Stop!" was the desperate plea. He said it without a second thought and Maggie raised her eyebrows.
"Stop? Well... all right." She abruptly removed her hand.
"No!"
Sergei was quite unsure of exactly what he did want her to do. The only thing he was concretely sure of was how unbearably aroused he was and how he wished she would do something, anything else, how if she would just stroke a little faster, untie one hand, move...
"No?" she repeated. She knew even in everyday conversation how much Sergei hated it when she repeated what he said in the form of a question. It frustrated him beyond belief, and she could only imagine what it was doing to him now.
"Maaaa-gieeee," he cried frantically. She stood.
"There's that word again," she murmured and Sergei whimpered pitifully. "Now really, what do you want me to do, hm?"
But Sergei couldn't answer her. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing with difficulty. She was keeping him right on the edge, so very close, that he couldn't even form a coherent thought. She paced slowly to the other side of the bed and then back, staring at him. His chest was heaving, every visible muscle stretched and taught. The hair on his forehead was damp and plastered to his skin in damp little curls, and his cheeks were flushed. She shivered, feeling her own pulse quicken at the sight. She took a step toward him then, suddenly having the incredible urge to take him right there, but stopped just as quickly.
"What's the matter? You don't want to tell me?" she purred, perching herself on the other side of the bed once more. Sergei moaned softly and turned his head to one side, and Maggie continued. "Do you want me to touch you? ... Yes?"
He pulled forcefully at the ties and breathed, "Yes."
"Where?" she asked immediately.
"Anywhere!" he sobbed. Maggie softly brushed the wet hair back from his forehead and moved her hand down to caress his cheek.
"How's this?" she asked in a gentle tone.
He remained still this time but whined. "No, Maggie, please!" he begged.
"It seems as if we've been through this before. 'Please' what?"
"Touch me," he answered hoarsely. She leaned down close to him.
"Where?" she whispered. "Say it."
He took a very deep breath and through clenched teeth, growled, "My cock."
Her face lit up with delight and she smiled. "Like this?" she asked quietly, her voice low, as she dragged the back of one fingernail lightly up the length of his shaft.
"Yyyy - yessss... Harder."
She repeated the motion, but this time roughly, almost clawing at him. He yelped, more out of surprise than genuine pain. "I bet I know what you want. Do you want me to suck your cock? Say it," she ordered.
"Suck my cock, Maggie!" he shouted, frenzied.
"Well, all right then," she replied calmly, sliding lower on the bed and licking her lips before taking the head of his penis into her mouth. Sergei gasped at the feeling, his whole body tensing up for a moment before relaxing once more as she began to suck gently a few times, running her tongue over the head slowly before finally sitting back up. Instinctively, Sergei pushed his hips upward, writhing madly on the bed. Another moment and he would've come, just one more stroke of her tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked back a frustrated sob.
"Maggie!" he cried, his hands clenched into tight fists. She took a shaky breath, unsure if she should be disturbed at how hot it made her to hear him say her name like that, desperate and helpless. She waited until he calmed down somewhat before she did it again, once more backing away before he could find release, wiping the corner of her mouth and tasting the vague saltiness in the back of her throat.
She continued to tease him, sucking for a few seconds and then stopping, making him plead with her until his voice went hoarse.
"Mmmmmaggie! Pleeease! Unnnngh!!! Please!" he begged, thrusting his hips without much direction and groaning frantically. Finally, he dissolved into a long string of mostly unintelligible words, although every now and then she managed to pick out "Maggie" and "please".
She slid her body back up the bed, moving against him deliberately. He whined softly and she put her palm against his cheek. "Shh, baby," she whispered and kissed him slowly, for a long time until he began to relax again. Gradually, he stopped writhing on the bed beneath her until finally, he lay almost still. Maggie gently maneuvered her knee between his legs, lightly massaging his crotch while she kissed him but shifting her position whenever he tried to rub himself against her. He made a small noise of defeat but she ignored this.
Sergei sighed, somewhere between frustration and contentment. Maggie kissed his lips once more and then moved to the right and began to kiss the inside of his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow. Sergei was surprised at just how erotic it felt. Her lips were warm and light on his skin, and he was finally managing to catch his breath. He closed his eyes - and even if they were open the blindfold prevented him from seeing anything anyway - and pictured Maggie. He couldn't really remember ever even seeing her wearing anything remotely like what he knew she had on now, and just thinking about what she looked like made his heart beat a little faster.
And suddenly, he felt her hand between his legs, stroking once more. Immediately, he was again painfully hard and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Her fingertips danced across his skin, running the length of the piss-slit, under the head, over the small circumcision scar. The sensations were so intense that with his eyes closed, Sergei saw little white sparks of white light.
It began to hurt a bit, he realized. But the pain was... different than normal, everyday pain. This felt good, in a somewhat masochistic way. Maggie continued to stroke him, tease him, enjoying the way he whimpered and arched his back each time she rubbed her palm over the head of his penis. If Sergei was realizing he had a masochistic side, Maggie was just discovering she enjoyed being dominant. She was so involved in this that at first she didn't even notice the tears sliding down his cheeks.
When she did notice, at first she wasn't quite sure what to do. Her first instinct was to stop, untie him. But he could snap his fingers, she thought to herself. No, she wouldn't untie him, because he was enjoying this! However, she would take off the blindfold. She wanted him to be able to see exactly what she was doing. She slid up and positioned herself lightly, just below his hips, and reached forward, guiding his head upward with one hand and taking the end of the blindfold with her other. Carefully, she untied the scarf and lifted it from his head.
She could see the tears standing in his eyes, his eyelashes damp. He stared up at her, his eyes wide and somehow innocent-looking, pleading with her. "Please, Maggie, it hurts," he murmured softly, his voice shaky with a strange combination of pain, and lust, and need.
She looked deeply into his eyes, bright blue and glassy, and for a moment, felt unsure again. But it passed, and instead, she leaned down and kissed him tenderly, whispering, "Soon," as she dropped her hand down between his thighs and began to gently rub his balls, never taking her eyes off his. That began to ease the pain somewhat, but did nothing for the burning desire that had been building for over and hour and a half.
After a few minutes, she glanced toward the top of the dresser and then back at Sergei. He stared at her with a questioning look, and when she finally slid back and stood, he spoke. "Where are you going?" he asked. Instead of replying, she just brushed her hand between his thighs. He tried to see as she went to the dresser, but her back was to him and concealing what she was doing. He let his head fall back on the pillow and shifted his position a little. His entire body was damp with sweat; he could feel his hair matted on his forehead and the sheets beneath him felt wet. He let his eyes close for a moment, and when he opened them, Maggie was sitting back on the bed between his knees, wearing a wide, seductive grin.
"What are you doing?" he asked, smiling a little in spite of his apprehension. Maggie watched him carefully, staring into his eyes, and suddenly, Sergei realized what she'd been doing.
Maggie was a little nervous herself, not quite sure how Sergei would react to what she was about to do. Meanwhile, Sergei was so surprised that he didn't even more. While standing at the dresser, she'd opened a condom package, squeezed an enormous amount of KY jelly onto her palm, slid the condom onto her finger, and coated the condom with it, leaving a great deal of jelly still in her hand. What had surprised Sergei was the feel of her hand behind his balls, gently spreading the jelly underneath him. She wiped the rest of it over her finger and pressed upward and inward, very gently, tentatively.
Sergei's eyes opened wide in surprise, both at the fact that she was doing this at all and also at the fact that it felt good. Strange, but good. Gradually, he began to relax and Maggie eased her finger in a little more, always watching his reactions carefully. One part of Sergei's mind couldn't quite believe what she was doing, one part couldn't quite believe that it felt good, and one part could only concentrate on how good it felt. And then she did something that made his breath catch in his throat. He tried to gasp but there wasn't enough air in his lungs for even a gasp. Instead, his eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.
Maggie, seeing this and promptly realizing that she must be doing things correctly, again pushed a little bit forward and a little bit downward. Sergei yelped, the feeling of intense pleasure scattering white sparks across his field of vision once more. Precum began to drip from his piss-slit in a steady stream, forming a little clear pool beneath him and running over Maggie's wrist, and every time she again pressed her finger against his prostate his hips bucked violently.
With each movement of her hand, she heard the sharp, albeit shaky, intake of breath, and it only served to make her do it more, to make her want to hear that sound again and again. There was an animal look in her eyes as she teased and tortured him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge, but never quite over. Sergei pulled frantically at his bonds now, his eyes tightly shut and his jaw clenched. He was so close, he thought, and maybe just one more -
Then, with a level of maliciousness she never thought possible of herself, Maggie pulled her hand away and Sergei's eyes opened immediately.
"Maggie!" he cried desperately. She sat very still and watched him, meeting his pleading, watery gaze with a stare almost as cold as the ice that was now melting in the glass by the bed. For one frightening moment, Sergei actually thought that she'd gone too far, that she'd snapped, half-insane with power and driven by lust. But she blinked and the look was suddenly gone, and now Sergei wondered if perhaps he was the one who'd snapped, now imagining things that weren't there.
She leaned over him, one hand on either side of his head, and stared down at him with a curious expression. "How much more of this do you think you can take?" she asked innocently enough but Sergei felt himself begin to shake just the same. She continued. "A few minutes? Half an hour? Maybe even an entire hour? Are you getting scared yet?" Her voice was unreadable, gave nothing away. Sergei swallowed hard and only nodded. Maggie cast a meaningful glance toward his right hand and waited, eyebrows raised.
Sergei never moved, never even turned his gaze from her. The more time he spent tied up and helpless, teased unmercifully, the more he wanted to stay like that, out of control and utterly submissive, and while that thought might have worried him before, with Maggie he didn't give it another moment's contemplation. If there had ever been anyone he'd trusted enough to end up like this, it was her. And really, in the end, it had been his idea. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd thought about this before, asking her to tie him up and torture him for hours. He'd even had dreams about this. Who was kidding who here, he wondered. He wanted this just as much, if not more, as she did.
Which was why, despite the unbearable pressure in his groin and the dizzying arousal, he remained still. Maggie narrowed her eyes and an almost imperceptible grin graced her lips.
"You like this," she said, a little incredulous. "You do, don't you?"
Sergei closed his eyes before he shook his head 'yes'. Maggie ran one hand through his wet hair, brushing it away from his forehead, an unusually sweet gesture for such a situation. She had been balancing on her knees and palms above him, but now she settled herself lightly just above his waist and clasped her hands in front of her almost primly.
"You know," she began in a tone that was oddly conversational and Sergei opened his eyes, more to see if the look on her face matched the emotion in her voice than anything else. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who would like this sort of thing. Being tied up and all." She reached behind her back to brush her hand between his thighs. "But you're really getting off on this, aren't you?" She began slowly stroking, and at that rather odd angle, it was highly doubtful she could do it quickly if she'd wanted to, and Sergei nodded with a miserable little whine.
"Out loud please," Maggie ordered in a little singsong voice as she took her hand away.
"Yes!" Sergei cried immediately, thinking that at that moment he would have agreed to just about anything if it would get her hand back on his cock. But she folded her arms in front of her almost defiantly, making Sergei close his eyes tightly and bite his lip to keep the sobs in.
"You could do this all fucking night, couldn't you?"
Sergei actually jumped a little at the harsh language and for a moment, couldn't even begin to think of his answer. His mind flip-flopped back and forth. He could stay here for the whole night letting Maggie do whatever came to mind to him, denying him sexual release for hours upon hours. His mind at least could stand it, but his body was adamantly opposed. It had been so long now that each time she touched him, it felt painfully good. And the pain of that pleasure might very well kill him, he thought. At last he found his voice. "No," he said very quietly and very timidly.
"You want me to let you come, don't you?" she asked sympathetically. He nodded and sniffled.
"Yes." Barely a whisper.
"Just a little longer, baby, I promise," she said soothingly, but with an intense look building in her eyes that belied the compassion in her voice. She shivered suddenly, the result of enough built-up sexual tension to last for months on its own, enough that Sergei could feel it throughout every part of his body. "Or maybe a lot longer," she said quickly, changing her mind. "You can't have any idea how much I'm enjoying this, seeing you helpless and so goddam hot it feels like you might just explode if you don't come soon."
Sergei whimpered involuntarily and shut his eyes, suddenly dizzy. Maggie continued.
"That's all you can think about, isn't it? How good it would feel to finally come. You'd fuck anything willing right about now, just to be able to get off."
Her words were having the precise, calculated effect she'd intended. He thrust his hips upward once, twice, desperate for any sort of friction. Maggie laughed coldly. "What about me?" she went on, "Do you want to fuck me?"
He was having trouble getting the word out. "Yes," he finally managed.
"Louder," she ordered immediately and he broke.