She’s going to tie you up with those stockings. Bind you to that chair — you know which one, that wooden-armed one from the dining room. That’s why it’s sitting here now.
She’s going to bind your arms to the chair arms; your legs to the chair legs.
Sure, you could hop away. But where to?
And why would you?
You know what’s going to happen next…
She’s going to immobilize you, at least from your own release, as she writhes, dances, and lord knows what else all about you. She’ll touch you, tease you, and let you worry about when or if she’ll please you. She’ll remain just as out of your reach as your own throbbing erection.
This is the ultimate stroke fiction, where any idea of stroking is pure fiction.
Photo credits: Kumi Monster by ~ladymorgana at DeviantArt