I sat and watched as you walked to the middle of the room, undoing your robe when you stood under the solid beam and letting the material slip to the floor.
Naked, you raised your hands over your head and took one of the constraints and fastened it closed around your left wrist, followed by the right.
And you waited.
I stood and walked up behind you, raised my hands to your wrists and checked they were closed and locked. Satisfied, I stroked my hands down your arms, gently, resting them on your shoulders. Around to the back of your neck and up again, over your scalp, fingers tangling in your hair.
I brought a blindfold out of my pocket and covered your eyes, taking one of your senses away. I stepped back.
And you waited.
Stepping forwards again, my hands returned to your head, massaging your scalp gently, slowly. They trail down your face, fingertips finding your covered eyes, nose, lips.
Your mouth opened, a silent question, answered with a finger to suck on, briefly. My hands continued their journey, brushing past your neck.
And you waited.
Down past your collarbones, your breath started to quicken as I moved across the upper parts of your breasts. Nipples rising to meet my questing fingertips, you gasped at the unexpected shock of their grasping, a twist of pain to match.
And the warmth when it's just as quickly gone again, my hands cupping and massaging you.
Your stance shifted a little, legs opening, the same silent question asked again.
And you waited.
Downward, smoothly, my hands moved. The palms in constant contact with your skin. Rippling across your rib cage, inward towards your belly but down, always down.
Outwards to where your hips widen, I felt them tilt up to my touch and I smiled, knowing that in your head the words "pleasepleaseplease" were stuck on a loop.