When the man most knew as Jon Chess came to consciousness in his bed, he could not move his wrists more than an inch. While he had slept deeply - and Jon did not often sleep deeply - someone had used strong silken ropes, of the kind used to tie soft night robes together, to secure his arms to the top of the bedposts. Likewise, he found that his legs had been immobilized in just the same way, using more silk sashes. Neither his arms nor his legs had any bend to them, but while they were forced to a relaxed maximum extension, neither his arms nor legs were painful. He tested the bonds to no avail; they were secured firmly, and he would not be leaving without outside assistance.
Even if the restriction had been painful, Jon would not have noticed; when he had come awake, the first thing he had noticed was the scent of feminine arousal. The status of his limbs had been almost immediately banished as an afterthought. He felt the weight of someone straddling his chest, and when his eyes had truly opened and focused, the first sight which greeted him was a familiar feminine body and pair of milky white thighs leading to the apex covered in dark plum-colored panties that sat high on her waist. The panties were made of soft, laced Mageweave, which did little to hide that the public mound beneath it had been shaved bare. The gusset of the panties was quite obviously soaked with the woman's arousal.
At least that would have been quite visible, if not for the womanly hand with long, slender fingers that had snuck their way inside the panties, and were now busy stroking gently at the woman's clitoris and labia.
A familiar and beloved giggle caught Jon's attention. "Oh good, you're awake!" crooned the soft, dulcet voice of his wife, the chest-nut haired Alia Atherton. She removed her hand from its play, and stretched out across his chest, smiling like the cat with the cream as her violet eyes met his. Her breath had the slightest hint of fruity wine and chocolate indicative of a glass of [Lagrave Stout], her preferred drink. "You will forgive me if I could not wait for you...I got excited as I tied you off. First your hands and then your ankles...But then you took longer than I planned to wake up...I was afraid I used one too many drops of the Lethargy Root extract in your thistle tea...You made me worry!" She added with a pout, her eyes going all doe-like before the lustful fire returned.
Jon kicked himself - he was the one who had taught his Beloved about the use of his alchemy setup and supplies, almost as soon as he had moved into their Wizards Watchtower in the Elwynn forest. Jon had not felt comfortable with having his distillation equipment around their residence without her knowing - at least in theory - about the uses of his various reagents for various poisons and venoms, and the antidotes thereto. He had never thought for a moment that she would use that knowledge on him.
Well, maybe the antidotes part, but still...
Alia flicked his nose with a playful giggle, leaving a heady smear of her arousal on his nose as she sat back up, grinding down his member as she readjusted. He could feel the wetness and heat of her entrance press down on him. A hunger that had little to do with nutrition or proper food swept over Jon like a tidal wave. He tested his bonds again, but to no avail; his Beloved had been quite thorough in her knot-y play. Likely another thing Alia picked up by watching him.
"After you had been 'secured' I thought I would take my position and patiently wait for you to awaken. I thought of all the fun I was going to have with you helpless, at my mercy over a glass of wine, and well... it proved too much for me to wait." She informed, ending the sentence with a moan as her fingers delved once more into her intimate flesh. "I hope you aren't disappointed in my lack of modesty... or self-control?"
Jon's eyes reluctantly traveled from the fascinating, if marginally obscured, finger-play up over Alia's soft, white form. Alia was not trained for heavy combat, but rather in the use of arcane knowledge, and as such her body was soft and supple, with her belly slightly rounded and her hips pleasingly wide. His eyes continued up to her chest. Her breasts were perfect, at least in Jon's estimation; they were slightly larger than would fit in a wine cup, firm and pleasingly soft, with nipples They were encased in the lace Mageweave cups of her brassiere, which held them proudly as if offering them for some fortunate fellow to taste. The lingerie set had been a gift from Jon, who enjoyed that it encouraged her sensuality, and made her feel as desired and desirable as Jon found her. Feeling sexy and desirable was, after all, the point of sensual lingerie.
It had taken some time for the normally demure Magna to come around, but when she did, Jon remembered how Alia had told him that she enjoyed moving while wearing this bra, as the soft lace moved across her sensitive nipples, stimulating her with erotic feelings all through the day.
"Cat got your tongue, my love?" Alia teased.
As with the panties, the lace of the bra could not hide that her nipples were both quite erect, possibly because of the material rubbing against them, but also because her other hand was busy squeezing her breasts and pulling and twisting at the nipples gently. Jon grinned; as Alia's arousal grew, she liked her breasts treated with more authority and roughness, almost as if she was welcoming being punished for such wanton behavior.
Alia looked down at her husband with a look that conveyed both love and desire. "Oh, Jon... This feels so good. My fingers inside me and stroking my little clit... but somethings missing. It's not as good as when you do it...with your fingers- your tongue- or your cock... but still...no complaints."
"You know, I'd be more than happy to help you with that, Beloved, "Jon informed Alia needlessly, his voice hoarse with lust.
