It is now that she realizes she, maybe, should have discussed the handcuffs with her husband. She was entirely unready for this pace right off the bat: She’s left frazzled, red faced, and clinging to him desperately while he continues to thrust up into her without pause. Unable to catch her breath, Hel’s mouth is left ajar with soft panting and breathy mumbles of pleasure. Drool leaking out the sides of her mouth.
Caught up in the other sensations, Hel does little but whimper in between gentle moans at the growing soreness of her lower half. What little control she’d had before had been ripped away, and so, in an attempt to gain some back, she shifts: Lifting herself in a less urgent bounce to meet his hips halfway. Making herself shudder, unconsciously digging her nails into his abdomen and chest. It’s when he slams his hips back up against hers, rubbing up against her inner walls a certain way that her insides light up with shockwaves, causing her to immediately squeeze down on him with a vice grip while the rest of her body trembles. With another urgent gasp, Hel bends forwards until they’re chest to chest, unable to keep herself sitting upwards any longer. Looking up at him with wet, blurry eyes, she shakily reaches up with one hand to touch the pseudo-cuffs: And just like that, they’re gone.
