She pulls herself back into the waiting position, uncertain of whether or not he is aware of what she had been doing, and frustrated by the incompletion of the act.She pulls herself back into the waiting position, uncertain of whether or not he is aware of what she had been doing, and frustrated by the incompletion of the act. He unties the leash from the handle, but does not lead her into the office just yet. From the shelf next to the door, he takes a long slip of dark-coloured fabric, and kneels in front of her. It is a blindfold, cut of black fleece, and it feels very warm and comfortable - albeit rather snug - against her face. It admits no light. Some of his gentleness remains as he guides her, using the leash, into the office, deftly guiding her around or away from otherwise painful encounters. With a slight tug, he makes her rise to a standing position in the middle of the room, wraps the leash tightly around one hand, and reaches out to undo the buttons of her shirt. She stands impassively, hands still behind her head, as his cool hands run over the flesh of her sides, her stomach, her breasts. She is very aware of the currents of breath as he draws in to kiss her skin, his lips playing at her collarbone, her sternum, her ribs, around to her spine. The gooseflesh is hard to avoid, and she flinches lightly away as his mouth reaches a certain ticklish spot alongside her spine. His hands join the game, running over the fabric of her pants, up the insides of her legs and across her still tender buttocks. His lips travel again to her stomach, nibbling in bits as he moves, and his hands are reaching for the closures on the front of her jeans. With a series of tugs, he removes her pants, guiding her feet as she steps out of them, and he casts them away, intrigued by the sight and smell of her obvious state of advanced arousal. |