The Flick

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She pleasures you for film.
852 words
3.14
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Strapped down, like an animal. Writhing in agony as search for release. From the bindings? Oh no. From the sexual need, the fever that races through your body. You beg me to touch you, to give you the release your body so desperately seeks. And so I do. Bringing my fingers down to trace a path from your nipples up to your throat, I whisper hints of the pleasure and pain you'll be made to endure.

Taking the flickering candle from the bedside, I ask you if you want to know what real heat feels like. Small beads of sweat appear along your brow as you shake your head frantically. But I ignore your cries, and tilt the candle to drip a trail of hot wax into the silky valley between your breasts. You gasp in pain as I turn my attentions to each of your spiked nipples. Once, twice, on each of the rounded tips. Your back arches up, and again, I hear you cry out. But still, I do not stop. Reaching down, into the v formed by your pubis and silken thighs, I gently spread your nether lips. Having fully exposed your pulsating bud, I drip one single, solitary, burning drop onto your nerve center. You buck and thrash, pulling at the ropes, screaming in delicious pain. Raking my scarlet fingernail over your abused button, I slowly peel away the hardened wax, eliciting more cries. But these are of a different nature. Now you beg for more contact, harder contact.

As I laugh cruelly, I turn my gaze to your face. But what do I find? Tears. Placing the candle in it's holder, I gently caress your luxurious hair. Kissing away the salty trails, I tell you not to cry, for there is much to come. Reaching once more to the bedside table, I retrieve the candle. Dripping the hot wax into your navel, I place the lit candle, upright, into it. Your body is now the most sensual candleholder I've ever beheld. While the hot flame melts the burning wax onto the delicate flesh of your stomach, I grace your soft lips with a tender kiss. Your tongue searches out mine, but I pull away.

Moving between your legs, I caress the downy mound. Your hips rise, in search of more pleasurable touches. The flickering candlelight chases out the shadows of your body, drawing me deep into it's spell. With two fingers, I plunge deep into your slippery love canal. You are so wet, so very hot. Removing my fingers, I pick up a slightly angled phallus, and nestle it against your inner trigger. You gasp; I know the feeling is intense.

As I gently press upon the toy, your breath catches in your throat. Glancing up, I see that the candle has nearly burned all the way down. At the same moment, you start to feel the heat. Pleading with me to take the candle's flame away, you try to blow it out. But, your breath falls just short. Just before your flawless skin starts to burn, I blow away the candle's life source. Tossing the candle aside, I return my attentions to your female center. You moan with pleasure as I suck your bud into my eager mouth. At the same time, I press upon the phallus. The act sends ripples of electric sensation up your spine and through your body. Gently biting your clit, I increase the pressure on your inner sanctum. Bringing you closer and closer to your climax, I listen to your sighs. Right at the moment of your explosion, I release your swollen nub and remove the phallus.

You cry out, begging me to touch you once more. You try to close your legs, to apply the pressure yourself. But you cannot, having been bound to the bed. As you jerk your body around, I laugh at the sight. Maybe you really are an animal. Rubbing some of your love juices onto your puckered asshole, I pick up the next plaything. It is another rubber creation, only it's twelve inches long, three and a half inches wide, and covered in soft, round spikes. I tilt your head back, and push it deep into your throat. Leaning down, close to your ear, I tell you to get it wet, or it will hurt even more where its going! Your eyes open wide, and you groan in realization. I slowly nod my head, confirming your fears.

Taking it out of your mouth, I see that it is still pretty dry. All that whimpering and crying must have dried out your mouth. My, that's going to hurt! Tweaking your nether lips one last time, I ram the toy into your tightest hole. You scream as I push it back and forth, in and out. On and on I go, until your screams become muffled sobs. Finally, with one last vicious lunge, I stop, ending your torment.

The director has yelled, "Cut!" He walks over to me and says," Good work! We got some great shots. See ya tomorrow!"

Oh well, there's always the next day.

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