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She feels free being home alone and pleasing herself but she can’t get him out of her mind. How she wishes it was him on her nipple. That it was him pleasing her clit. The thought of him sucking on her clit sends her over the edge. She’s panting and dripping and thrashing and moaning. She looks beautiful. Her legs stop shaking and she removes the vibratory from her panties. She keeps her eyes closed for a couple more minutes and basks in the glow of her orgasm. It shouldn’t be much longer now. The first attached to the front of the torture shorts, just long enough to allow the slave to remain standing, just short enough that trying to stand fully upright crushed and stretched the slave's balls mercilessly - while the shoes prevented it from sitting or kneeling. The remaining length of chain connected, through a long spring, to the cruellest nipple clamp the slave had ever seen - unlike the clover clamps it knew, which simply grew tighter as their chain was pulled, the inner spiked. I watched as my hands started at my shoulders caressing the freckles of my chest and breasts, teasing my nipples, reminding me of another throb that need to be tended to. They resumed their journey down to my waist. With just the tips of my fingers I began to feel the heat and moisture of my pussy that had manifested itself as the dark blue patch on the front of my yoga pants. They found their way to the front seams of my panties and I traced my fingers along them down to either side of my. I kissed her hello and I meant it.I knew that I couldn’t keep up with her, so after breakfast I followed her directions to her small one story townhouse. I carried my small backpack full of tools into her very well decorated living room.“You have a beautiful home,” I said.“Thank you,” she replied with a smile.“I need to bring my battery pack in, if that is okay?” I asked.“If’s fine. Just put it on the coffee table. I’ll clear it off for you,” she insisted. I knew better then to refuse her.
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