Chain Of Rules Act III

(To read Chain Of Rules Act I, Act II)

I just have to smile at the irony of adding links to a story about chain bondage.

Now where were we? Oh yes. Leigh was nude, cuffed, collared, stretched out tight and open for my viewing and manipulative pleasure.

The visual aspect of a chained and for all intents suspended nude female is something to behold. And I planned to be holding a lot of what I was drinking in with my eyes.

That first sip they took was of her face. She radiated helplessness, her eyes glistened in the warm candlelight. Auburn hair glowed as if a halo had fallen from its perch above her angelic features. Lips full with passion lightly parted dryly, searching for some unforeseen assistance to her unfortunate predicament. I swear she looked as if she was already one step into her flight just from being restrained so prominently, so proudly.

The next drink was the way the lovely valleys defining her nape, collar bones and shoulders were both relaxed yet taut with forced tension. When my gaze strolled up her arms to the black cuffs high above her head, it delighted in how her hands slowly opened, twisted, danced within their leather prisons. It was almost serpentine, practically hypnotic.

Then back down to her torso, especially her breasts. There is nothing like a pair of magnificent breasts being thrust out and made taut with stretching. I fucking adore this, almost a craving. To have Leigh’s body in such a position that she has no choice but to make her breasts tall, firm and aching to be touched drives me crazy.

Her nipples, all wrinkled with arousal, jutted teasingly into the night. The shadows they cast left no secret at the fire building deep inside her. Soon enough I would stoke those flames into an inferno.

I savored each sip I took from the way her stomach cascaded smoothly into her hips and the luscious valleys of where her thighs began. From there it was only a short drive to Heaven.

Her shaved cunt.

Fuck! how pouty and puffy her soft, smooth as a baby’s bottom mound looked. And from how wide I had her legs secured I had no trouble seeing the soft edges of the folds lining the sticky sweetness within. I’ve told her she could get a tattoo of a dripping honey pot with a few bees buzzing happily on the mound of her mons pubis. I could then get a very naughty looking Pooh Bear holding a dipper in a corresponding place on my anatomy so that when we fuck Pooh could dip his dipper in her honey pot, all the while exclaiming “I wasn’t going to eat it! I was just going to taste it.”

The fidgeting from left to right and how the chains keeping her legs wide went tunngggg every time she shifted her weight brought my eyes down her silky white legs to the same stark contrast of cuff on joint as her wrists enjoyed.

I smiled. What a vision. A totally helpless vision. And in stereo thanks to the mirror on the wall celebrating her back and ass cheeks.

I closed my eyes in silent prayer for the gifts I was about to deceive.

Upon opening them, I was in a different place inside myself. A hunger spoke, demanding proper entitlement and satiation. My eyes displayed this in no uncertain terms as well.

Already visually intoxicated off that evening’s vintage of her chained beauty, it was now time to feed off Leigh’s helpless submission.

The first course was her underarms. This is not just a particularly sensitive area of Leigh anatomy but also a major erogenous zone. Using my fingernails like paint brushes, I softly applied a first coat to those sensitive spots by dragging them backhanded up the length of her upraised arms. She jerked and tugged on the chains when they met the underside of her forearms, another erogenous spot.

I adore teasing her this way. Back and forth the backs of my fingertips grazed the lengths of her chained arms. Over and over they danced on a kinky cobblestone path of goosebumps and dewy hairs on end.

“HhhmhmmMMM” she groaned, her twisting gyrations eliciting a chorus of tuunngg tunnggg from all the chain lengths. She tried to lift her knees. “HhhhhhmmMMM.” Attempted to pull down out of the wrist cuff’s furred lined vise grip. “EhhhhhHHHH!” A sharp, twisting snap of her entire body from one side to the other was met with tuunnggg and “HhhmmmMMM!!”

She knew there was no fucking escape. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to do.

Reaching high above her my fingertips danced across her own. She froze as sixteen fingers and four thumbs played a naughty game of Eensy Weensy Spider above the leather restraints.

I leaned in close, my face inches from hers. Our eyes locked as our fingertips danced. With an evil smile on my face and my breath slow and hot in her ear, I traced over her palms, then across the cool leather and rigid stainless steel rings, down the underside of her forearms, stopped for some deliriously fun circles on her elbows (a vastly underrated hot spot), continued to slide down the back of her upper arms before coming full circle back in her armpits.

Her breath came in ragged gulps, interrupted by sighs, squeals, pouty sounds and short, shrill huffs at the frustration of it all.

I just stood there silently, towering over her forced submission to my feathery touches via those stainless steel links and black leather cuffs and just slowly breathed. In her. On her. Inhale. Exahle. Hot on the nape of her neck, her ears, the side of her face. My rhythmic breath became her soundtrack.

I’m sure your thinking “You had a nude woman bound helpless with chains in a spread eagle…and you just played with her arms, nape and mind?”

Fuck yeah I did. For starters.

You don’t start a fire with the biggest pieces of wood. You start with tiny pieces of kindling. Get those aflame and the larger pieces start to smoke and smolder from the heat. I knew exactly what the fuck I was doing.

And the best was yet to come. Literally.

Chain Of Rules Act IV

2 responses to “Chain Of Rules Act III

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