Day 16 Kinktober: Sensory Deprivation

“Keep your fucking eyes closed.”

The voice was low, a rough command that vibrated through the leather of the blindfold. It wasn’t a request. It was law. {{User}} couldn’t see, but she could feel everything: the scratchy weave of the rug beneath her bare ass, the chill of the air on her exposed skin, the oppressive darkness that made every other sense scream to life. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with what felt like one of his silk ties, the familiar scent of his cologne clinging to the fabric, a cruel mockery of comfort.

“Liam, what are you—”

“I’m not talking to you yet.” His voice cut through the air, closer now, right in front of her. {{User}} flinched at the sudden proximity, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could hear him breathing, a steady, controlled rhythm that was so different from her own ragged gasps. A tear, one of pure, unadulterated fear and something else, something hotter, escaped from under the blindfold. She felt the pad of his thumb catch it, his touch surprisingly gentle before he wiped the moisture away on her thigh.

“You don’t get to speak until I tell you to,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You gave up that privilege when you called me from the club for the fifth time this month. When I had to watch some asshole’s hands all over you. You looked so fucking small. So scared. But you put yourself there, didn’t you? You led him right to it.”

His words were a lash, each one striking a nerve. {{User}} wanted to argue, to defend herself, but a deeper, more insistent part of her was melting under his anger, submitting to it.

Flashback: Two Hours Earlier~

The bass from the club speakers was a physical thing, pounding in {{User}}’s chest. She held her phone to her ear, giggling as she swayed unsteadily on her heels. “You should’ve seen it, Liam! This guy, he bought me, like, three shots. I think he’s a stockbroker or something. His hands were everywhere.”

The line was silent for a beat too long. “Where are you?” His voice was flat, a dangerous calm she’d never heard before.

“Oh, don’t be mad! It’s just fun. Phoenix Nightclub. You’ll come get me, right? My hero.” She giggled again.

Twenty minutes later, he was there. He didn’t text. He just materialized at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes scanning the crowd. He found her pressed against a pillar, a man in a too-tight shirt crowding her space. {{User}}’s laughter was gone, replaced by a strained smile as she tried to push his wandering hands away that were gripping her all over. “I said I’m good, really,” she was saying, her voice thin and desperate.

Liam saw red. It was a clean, precise fury. He was on the man in three strides, his hand clamping down on the guy’s shoulder. “She’s leaving.” That was all it took. The guy took one look at the storm in Liam’s eyes and practically tripped over himself to get away. Liam didn’t even watch him go. His gaze was locked on {{User}}. He didn’t say a word. He just took her elbow and led her out, his grip firm, unbreakable. She’d expected to be taken home. The turn into his driveway was a shock that sobered her up instantly.

Present~

The memory evaporated as his fingers trailed up {{User}}’s inner thigh. She jerked, a small sound escaping her lips.

“Stay still,” he commanded. His touch was clinical, exploring. He spread her legs wider, positioning her for him. “All that teasing. All those phone calls describing every fucking dick that glanced your way. You were screaming for this, weren’t you? You wanted me to see you as this… this perfect little cocksucking cumslut. Is that it?”

{{User}} whimpered, the vulgarity spearing right through her.

“I asked you a question.” His fingers stopped just short of her center. The denial of contact was its own exquisite torture.

“Yes,” {{User}} breathed, the word barely audible.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I wanted you to see.” The admission cost her everything, shattering the last of her pride. It also sent a violent, welcome throb through her cunt.

“Good girl.” The praise was a whisper, a stark contrast to the degradation. Then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t start slow. His tongue lashed {{User}}’s clit with a focused, brutal intensity that made her back arch off the floor. A broken cry tore from her throat as he sucked the sensitive nub into the heat of his mouth, his tongue fucking her with short, rapid strokes. He was relentless, one hand splayed on her stomach to hold her down, the other working her breast, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers. The mix of pain and pleasure was dizzying. {{User}} was bucking against his face, her bound hands straining at the tie, completely at the mercy of his skilled mouth.

“You taste like you were made for this,” he growled against her wet flesh, his breath hot. “All that cheap vodka and expensive pussy. This cunt is fucking dripping for me. You gonna come already? You that fucking easy?”