Almost Perfect

She stood, still, silent, almost perfect.

He walked around her, looking. Watching, Waiting.

Her tits jutted out, nipples distended. Her eyes faced front, pools of color so deep. Her arms were behind her back, fist into palm, shoulders back.

So very close to perfection.

He didn’t notice soft wrinkles…they were part of her package.

He didn’t pay attention to softly rounded belly.

He did notice her curvy ass, just begging to be attended to.

All part of her package, he mused again. He was pleased that she was so obedient, so willing to stand and wait on his word. She was curious, he knew, and nervous as well.

He could see her rapid pulse, beating gently in the shadowed hollow at the base of her throat.

He could see her tits rise, fall, jiggle with every short, rapid breath.

He could smell wet pussy, and was certain that if he stared at the juncture of thighs and belly, or thighs and ass, he would see her dewy drops there. The weeping of a needy pussy.

He held that pussy in his figurative hand.

No cum for many days now. She was so fucking needy.

He liked her like that.

She would do anything, anything, without a moment of hesitation, eager to get his hands on her soft flesh.

He’d taken her coat off of her, a gentleman to his core, and she’d given him a sideways look, and a soft murmuring  “Sir?”

He’d raised his brow, a gesture she took as “continue slut.”

“hurt me please.”

He’d smiled at that. Sweet, lovely woman, begging for pain.

He was smiling as he fastened the first clamp onto her distended nipple. The sound that came from her was a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound someone makes when biting into a long-craved meal, only to find it too hot.

“mmmmmMMMMMM….. OWOW!”

He pulled and tugged the clamp, seating it just where He wanted it. His cock stirred as he watched her nipple dimple under the clamp-head. Seeing her body take his pain was such a fucking turn on. Watching the colors bloom on her, the lines taking shape, the bite of clamps or pins …a heady rush of desires coming to fulfillment.

He took his time clamping the other nipple. He pulled it with his fingers, first pulling her forward, then lifting the tit up.

That made her squirm a bit, rising to her tiptoes with the pull of his hand, although she kept her hands firmly behind her back.

He pressed his body close, wrapping his free hand around her, hugging her to him, his hand clasped over her closed hands, lifting them up, and forcing her tits to thrust even further up, to move even closer to him. His other hand remained on her tit, pulling, pinching and twisting.

He felt the brush of her long hair on his forearm, the hot rush of breath from her mouth as she cried out a soft “aaaahhhhhhhh”.

And the heat from the unexplored valley between her thighs was pressing needily against his crotch.

His hand slipped from her tit to gather in her hair, scoop up a wealth of the rich tresses, and wind them around his fist. He used the slippery mass to pull her head back, and when she was looking him full in the face, he spat into her open mouth.

Her grimace was immediate, and amusing.


His word was terse, and he watched avidly as she complied, though with a scowl. He pulled her hair further back, her throat vulnerable, and he watched that pulse knocking desperately there for a moment, before his mouth descended, and he began licking her flesh. Once wet, he blew gently across it, raising a welter of goosebumps.

Disarmed, she moaned as his wet mouth came once more to her throat, a moan that deepened into sharp squeals as his teeth bit into her, hard.

The sudden outpouring of the scent of her sex nectar made him smile against her abused flesh.

He released her suddenly, and turned away. His cock throbbed hotly in his boxers, pressing insistently against his trousers’ zipper. As he reached into his valise, he looked over his shoulder at her.  She continued to stand there, head slightly tipped back, mouth open and panting, one tit clamped , the chain swinging with her breathing, and the other bruised from his touch. Her hair was disheveled. Her legs were wider apart, and the trail of want gilded her left thigh with her secret desires.

She stood on trembling legs, breathing ragged, and now,  perfect.