The binds keep you from moving, the blindfold from seeing. The gag keeps your mouth available and keeps you from speaking out of turn. Your jaw aches a little, but you long stopped noticing. Held in place, held in the dark, left to just wait, you’d long stopped really being able to think at all.
Had you done something? Was this a punishment? You couldn’t remember. He hadn’t said. Had he? You couldn’t remember. You just remember that it wasn’t your choice, and that it must have been what he wanted. He wanted you trapped, he wanted you helpless, and so you were. Immobile, blind, and dumb.
You can still hear though, just fine. Better than fine.
And your ears prick up at a sound outside the room.
Then the sound of the door opening, the click of a light, the cluck of a tongue.
“Oh, were you in here this whole time?”
You strain, as a reflex, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. You try to speak, too, but it just comes out as dumb, wordless gurgles. After a moment of exertion you fall back again, limp, whimpering, and hear him tut.
“Honestly. It can’t be that bad, can it?”
He crosses the room. He must be standing right beside you. You turn your head to the direction he must be in and you try to beg, to plead. It’s just more noise. He puts a thumb into your mouth and puts a stop to it.
“Shh. No speaking, and no whatever that was. Just be quiet.”
The thumb withdraws. You stay quiet. Your heart pounds.
A finger traces over your cheek and you jolt, which makes him chuckle. That just makes it worse. The desperation makes your head throb, and between your legs. It’s too much. He takes the finger further down, across your neck, your chest, over a nipple. It’s all you can do not to strain against the bonds, push into his hands, try for any more contact. He pulls away.
The gag means you can’t stifle a whimper. It just slips out.
Seconds tick past. You’re terrified he might just leave you again, and jolt again when he resumes the trails of his finger, down across your belly now. You hold still. You try so, so hard to stay still, even when he moves to your thigh, on the outside. Ever-so-slowly he traces towards the inside, up to between your legs.
“I don’t even need to touch you, you know. I can see how wet you are. You’ve left another little damp spot. Oh, quite a big one, too! So no, I don’t need to… but I will.”
And he does. Runs his finger right up your slit. You can’t hold still for that. You shiver, your back arches, you groan. His touch is electric. There’s barely any contact at all but it doesn’t matter. Blindfolded, gagged, bound - anything is almost too much. You’ll still shivering after he pulls away.
“So many things I could do… anything I wanted… but you know what’s one of the most fun things I could do to you right now?”
You hear him leaning over. He kisses your forehead, then he whispers:
You’re too stunned to make a sound. Nothing? No. He can’t do nothing. You’d lose your mind! He saw how desperate you are! He felt it! He can’t do nothing!
Your mind stops racing when he gropes you, sighing wistfully.
“Not to say I don’t want to fuck you and fill your cute little cunt while you’re all helpless and vulnerable like this. I do. I want to pull out and see that little trickle of cum just running down to dribble onto that damp spot you made and give your cunt a pat before I walk off. But I’m not in a rush, and now I get to watch you squirm a bit more. Yes, just like that. Oh, poor girl, listen to the noises she’s making! Tsch. It’s not about you, silly. Maybe if I give you a bit longer you’ll understand that better. Good girl. I’ll be back soon.”
The light clicks off, the door clicks shut.
The wordless noises you make fill the room.
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