Page 40 of The Watcher's Bride

I know with utter certainty that he isn’t a danger to me.

***

However, when I get home, my spirits lift when I see he’s left a gift for me on the bed. He doesn’t need to tell me what he wants from me. I don’t even hesitate to put it on. I’m so eager forhis touch, to feel his presence, that I don’t linger on what might happen, on the trust I’m placing in him. I almost unmasked him the other night, maybe tonight I’ll be brave enough to finally see him.

I strip off, stepping into the crotchless panties and peekaboo black lace bra. I lie back on the bed, placing the eye mask over my head before I secure my hands into the fluffy handcuffs and pull the eye mask down to obscure my vision. My breath comes in shallow, eager puffs as I wait. My nipples harden in anticipation, and I can feel myself getting slicker just imagining what he has in store for me. With my hands like this, I’m completely at his mercy. Something I never thought I would feel comfortable doing with any man, let alone be aroused by. In our other sexual encounters, I’ve always been the one in control. Relinquishing it like this is terrifying yet exhilarating. Strangely, though I don’t even know what he looks like, I trust this man more than any other. I know he won’t push me beyond what I can handle.

With my eyesight blocked, all of my other senses seem heightened, and I strain to hear him arrive. Just when I think the anticipation might kill me, I hear him slowly enter the room. His breath hitches at the sight of me and I know from the slight rumble in his chest that he likes what he sees.

“Good girl,” he purrs in accented English.

He comes over to the bed and I know he’s watching me. The lights are on. For the first time, he can fully see me, all of me. Somehow, in my eagerness for him, I’d momentarily forgotten my scar, which I normally try to hide. My father always made me ashamed of it, that it was something that marred my beauty. I let out a yelp of surprise and horror when he touches it, hiscalloused fingers light and gentle on my skin. He caresses it slowly and I bite back my disgust at my body as he kisses it.

His focus is solely on the one part of my body I hate the most, and I realize with a strange sort of detachedness that he actually likes it, or at least he doesn’t hate it. His loving caresses make me feel desirable. The sensitivity of such a vulnerable part of me sends tingles of pleasure through me. Only when I finally relax under his touch does he continue his exploration of my body.

I feel his hot breath above my breast before he takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking and gently nipping it, causing me to gasp. I realize then that he mustn’t be wearing his mask. With my vision obscured, he is free to leave his face exposed. The temptation to rip off the blindfold and see him is strong. He must sense what I’m thinking as he gathers the handcuffs and pulls my hands high above my head before attaching them to the bedpost somehow.

With my plan thwarted, I return my focus to the feeling of his tongue exploring every inch of exposed skin. I had no idea that being touched could feel like this. As if every nerve ending is alight with pleasure sensors. He licks and sucks my nipple while teasing the other with his fingers, alternating between the two and sending a direct line of pleasure to my clit. He then begins to lazily stroke his fingers along the length of my slit, making me moan with pleasure.

He takes his time, making sure he has me melting under his touch and panting, begging for release before he slips a finger inside. It feels incredible but it still isn’t enough.

“More,” I moan, and he obliges me, kissing his way down my stomach to lick my clit, his tongue expertly flicking across it.

I clamp my thighs around his face, feeling the stubble against my skin and wishing I could touch him. With my hands tied I’m completely at his mercy, and I’m loving every second of it. He’s going to make this moment last, for both of us. He licks and sucks and fucks me with his fingers, making me dripping wet and bringing me closer and closer with every stroke. Each time I think I’m about to explode, he pulls me back to the edge, driving me wild.

“Please,” I beg.

Only then does he allow my orgasm to come crashing down, making me scream out in sheer ecstasy as I come harder than ever before. He laps up every bit of my arousal, turning me on even more, and I know then that I want him to fuck me. That I want to go all the way with him.

“Fuck me, please,” I beg pathetically, so desperate for him.

When I feel the thick pressure at my entrance, I’m fooled for a second into thinking it’s him before I realize it’s the shaft of the vibrator. He’s going to fuck me alright, but not with his cock. Not yet.

I don’t have long to feel disappointed as the vibrator fills me, expanding my pussy a little as he thrusts it in and out a couple of times before turning on the vibrations. I come again. It hits me hard and fast, the vibrations are so powerful, the sensation of someone else being in control of the toy driving me wild.

He resumes playing with my nipples as he fucks me with the toy. “You’re mine,” he growls.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I agree, screaming as the final, most powerful orgasm of the night rocks its way through my body.

I lie there, panting and spent, vaguely aware of the sounds of him moving. I feel pressure on my hands and the handcuffs release. I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should remove the blindfold or not. He places his warm lips against mine, and in my surprise, I don’t move for a moment. Before I can kiss him back, he moves away. I pull my blindfold off just in time to see his back obscured by darkness, the lights now off, as he leaves.

After showering, by the time I climb back into bed, weariness catches up with me and I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

***

Rough hands grab me, lifting me from my bed. I groggily try to figure out what’s happening, my eyes blearily landing on a masked figure before closing again.

It’s just him, I think.

But through the fog of my brain, something is screaming at me to wake up. I try again to open my eyes, and they land on another figure dressed all in black. I realize what’s wrong. There are two of them.

Panic starts to creep in through my dulled senses as I realize the one man has me thrown over his shoulder and we’re heading for the front door. This isn’t my watcher. These men are trying to take me somewhere.

I feel as if I’m swimming in molasses as I try to get my limbs to respond. I feebly kick out and struggle, but I may as well be a fly in this man’s vice-like grip.

“She’s waking up. She’s supposed to be out cold for hours.”

The voice sounds distant, and I can feel my subconscious trying to drag me back into oblivion, but I try to fight it. As we walk out the front door, I summon every ounce of my strength to try to scream for help.

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