Twisted Step-Sisters 3: Scene 2

Addicted2Girls

Jennifer White, Katy Jayne Pic(s)

The silk scarf, a vibrant splash of peacock blue agat the pale skin of her inner thigh, was not merely a restraint but a promise, its cool, smooth texture a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from her body. A low, guttural moan escaped her, muffled almost to silence by the intricate knot of a second, softer scarf that filled her mouth, its faint scent of jasmine clinging to the back of her throat with every desperate, nasal breath. Her wrists, bound securely behind the small of her back with a third length of fabric, pulled her shoulders into a graceful, aching arch, thrusting her chest forward and making the delicate lace of her chemise feel unbearably abrasive agat her taut nipples. She could feel the weight of another’s gaze tracing the line of her spine, a visual caress that burned hotter than any touch, and she shifted her hips involuntarily, a silent plea etched into the straining curve of her neck. The only sounds were the rustle of expensive sheets as she tested her bonds and the soft, rhythmic click of high heels circling the bed, each step a measured taunt that tightened the coil of anticipation deep within her core. A single, polished fingernail, cool as ice, dragged with excruciating slowness from her ankle up the sensitive length of her calf, causing a violent shiver to wrack her confined form. Her eyes, wide and dark with a mixture of fear and raw hunger, locked onto the smirking lips of her captor, communicating a universe of defiance and submission in a single, liquid glance. The air itself grew thick and heavy, saturated with the mingled perfumes of their arousal, a sweet, musky fragrance that promised a delicious, impending ruin. Every fiber of her being was hyper-aware, strung tight as a bowstring, waiting for the moment that teasing pressure would finally, mercifully, become a claiming touch.