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It is not a painful position; my feet are on the floor and I am not stretched in any way - there is some latitude and I can move my body slightly - but there is no doubt that I am quite immobilized. I have yet to speak or make a sound. I vow that I will not give this monster the satisfaction of knowing what I am thinking, what I am feeling: that my heart is beating wildly with fear, that I abhor the feeling of being so vulnerable. He needs to know only that I absolutely despise him.

Silently I pray for calm and rational thought. He steps back and observes me intently. Simple, but effective. You really are quite helpless, aren't you? Perfect, don't you think? Therefore, it's sound- proof. Someone could scream down here and no one would ever hear them. I'm very frightened now. He sees it in my eyes. For a brief moment, the coldness in his gaze is replaced with something softer.

The corners of his mouth twitch. Don't worry. I have no intention of causing you any physical pain. No, that is most definitely not part of my nature, and quite frankly, would not be nearly as satisfying as dealing with you in — other ways. He grimaces. She speaks. I was beginning to think that you had no voice.

But at least now I know you do. His hand, warm and soft, strokes my neck. As he talks to me he watches my face intently. I shake my head away from his touch, my fear replaced by anger. I can't do that. I plan to be keeping you company here for quite some time. What is he talking about? For what?

So unattainable. So frustrating. I struggle against the bonds, but I know my efforts are in vain. He was right about one thing: the bonds are effective. My heart sinks. I'm convinced I'm dealing with a madman. He pretends not to notice my distress and continues his conversation, his voice cold. Travelling in the same professional circles, I have had many occasions to interact with you, although you usually distance yourself from me. I have noticed him — he is far too striking a man for a woman not to notice — but up until this terrible evening I instinctively have kept my distance from him.

Tonight he had lured me here with the guise of talking business. Oh, how could I have been so foolish? He is walking slowly around me, his eyes raking up and down my body as it is stretched out before him. You flirt, you play, your body throws out offers that you have no intention of keeping. We call that a tease. And do you know what happens to a tease, my dear?

How should you be punished? You're a smart woman. No answer? Then suddenly, alarmingly, his hands are at the front of my blouse. He leisurely undoes the top button. I hold my breath. Then I suppose I'll have to tell you. The last button is undone now. My knees start to tremble as he slowly pulls my blouse open. He cocks his head to one side, his lips pursed, staring at my exposed breasts. How fortunate that you chose not to wear a bra tonight.

Then again, that's what a tease would do, isn't it? I feel panic rising in me but it's as if I am frozen still, unable to move. He observes me silently for a few moments. Then slowly, his hands move to touch me and I hear the sharp intake of my breath. His fingers, surprisingly soft, are gently stroking the sides of one breast. He caresses the round swell on the underside, over the top, and pauses in his exploration to gently probe under my arms.

I will endure this, I vow to myself silently. No matter what he does I will remain detached. But his warm hands are very experienced.

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They seem to know exactly where all my sensitive spots are. And there is another alarming thought that is creeping up on me. No, it can't be, I tell myself. I can't — could I possibly be — not with this man After what seems to be an eternity he stops, but then immediately, before I can catch my breath, moves to the other breast. His touch is unbearably tender. Again, the same methodical exploration, the same soft stroking, the same maddening circles. My emotions are in turmoil, at war with my body, that same body that is betraying me by responding to the touch of a man I hate.

My nipples harden and begin to ache. The fear I had felt earlier is being replaced with another feeling. It's indescribable.

It's a tad longer than anticipated, I admit -- but here

Something like — dear God, no I'm grateful for the distraction. I can think. What we were talking about before I became distracted with your breasts? You know. How to punish a tease. How to punish you. His mouth, hot and soft, is against my cheek, then lower, dropping light kisses along my collarbone. My neck is an extremely responsive area on my body and I'm angered that he seems to know it. I fight the sensation. I am going to enjoy this. Suddenly his hands stop and I instinctively sigh deeply in relief.

It's a chance to compose myself and I intend to take full advantage of it. He has pulled away from kissing my neck is watching my face with amusement. But you should know, my dear — " His lips are close to mine. Break me! Enflamed at his words, I twist my head away from his and begin to struggle against the handcuffs. I am angry now and I want him to see that. Anger is an emotion that I can deal with. The fury is a welcome antidote for the disturbing feelings raging through me. He laughs — a mirthless, cold laugh.

Defrosting Ice Queen | All The Tropes Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia

It's quite useless to struggle. You should learn to cooperate. Anger is proving to be my ally. I am regaining control. I love a good challenge. What did you say again? Then before I can think, his hands are on my nipples. He pulls on them gently, rolls them around between his thumb and forefinger, flicks them back and forth with the pads of his thumbs, all the while watching my face intently. I meet his gaze defiantly but, oh God help me, his touch is devastating. He know exactly what to do I realize with alarm that my erect and aching nipples are responding to his caresses.

There is another part of me that's aching too - a growing heat between my legs. I close my eyes weakly to the spiraling sensation. How could it be? I hate this man, I hate him! How could my body be responding like this? Open them for me. He laughs. Open your eyes. I want to see what effect this is having on you. As if in a trance, I obey. His dark eyes are flashing with amusement as he stares at me. Good girl. That's better. Your nipples are wonderfully responsive. I imagined they would be.

Slowly, methodically, he continues his infuriating caresses. The palms of his warm hands are playing out over my nipples now. I am fighting to hang on to rational thought. Perhaps if I talk with him, engage him in conversation I need to focus on something besides his touch.

I fight for control. How pathetic. He ignores my rather pathetic attempt at an insult. I have often fantasized about what your breasts look like, about touching them just like this. This is almost too much to bear, I think wildly. He is watching me face for signs of response and smiles. To them. Then mercifully, suddenly, he stops. Again I struggle to regain normal breathing. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing what effect his touch has on me.

Wait — what is he doing? He is reaching into his jacket My attempts to compose myself are halted dead in their tracks when I realize what he has produced from his pocket. I feel my blood run cold. My eyes are silently pleading. Oh no, surely he doesn't intend Quite a good size, isn't it? And very soft. Would you like to feel how soft? I inhale sharply. Surely he doesn't intend to prolong this. Dear God, I pray, give me strength. It's true. It is believed that gentle and incessant tickling — like this —" He punctuates his words with a rapid shake of the feather against my skin — "can drive a person quite mad, largely because of the anticipation factor — you know, where the victim will be tickled next, how they will be tickled.

It's called exquisite torture. Could be quite useful in exacting information, I'd think. He draws the feather lightly across my chest and resumes tickling under the other arm. In spite of my best intentions to remain passive, I squirm against the bonds. Stay still, I tell myself. Try to be calm.

Don't let him know I can endure this I will I can But damn him, he does! The tip of the feather is now teasing my erect nipple. Oh God, the pleasure is overwhelming! He is brushing the feather lightly back and forth, back and forth, around the soft pink flesh surrounding the nipple, back to the tip again. The feather's light touch is barely enough to produce a sensation but he is moving it so quickly that it results in an indescribable and unbearable excitement Then, almost before I am even aware, a groan escapes my lips.

I am instantly angry for my weakness, which is not lost on him. Smiling, and without a word, he sets to work on the other nipple, this time using his free hand to lightly stroke my underarms, ribs, belly, all the while watching my face keenly with that maddening half-smile. What I wouldn't give to wipe it off his face! He is a boor, a bully. This has got to stop. Again, I struggle for rational thought. If only he would stop what he's doing, just for one moment, then I could gain some semblance of control. My jaw is set firmly and I struggle to keep my voice even.

It's an almost impossible task. The feather's touch is sheer torture. The torment continues for what seems like hours until every inch of my flesh is on fire. My mind is racing, desperately seeking something, anything, to take his mind off his task. I speak between ragged breaths. But he is not angry. Not even a little bit. My challenge, however, has apparently bought me some time. The feather torment stops. Thank you, God. I sag against the restraints and he watches me with amusement, his inquisitive eyes never leaving my face. I'm breathing heavily and am grateful that he stopped when he did.

As my heart begins to slow I pull myself up and meet his gaze squarely. I dig deep for strength. I try a desperate ploy. You at least know when to admit failure. You've apparently done your worst. But he'll never know. Your little game is over. He laughs loudly. We've barely begun. I do admire your spirit. But you are stubborn. Which, of course, will only make it all the more satisfying when you submit to me.

The first touch of his mouth is electric. I'm caught by surprise and a soft, gutteral moan escapes my lips. Then another. Then, God help me, another. His tongue is just on the very tip of my nipple, doing all the things the feather was doing, flicking, teasing, but his tongue is hot and oh so wet and oh so excruciating. I groan again. This is more than anyone should have to endure. I clench my teeth in what could only be described as torment as his mouth moves to the other breast now to repeat the torture.

He ignores my plea and continues to tease both nipples with his mouth, cupping both of my breasts in his hands and playing his hot tongue back and forth, back and forth between the two, until finally, he senses my exhaustion and stops. Those shimmering eyes are scanning my face again and he smiles with satisfaction. I see you are becoming more cooperative. And was that a moan or two that I heard?

Could it be that you are actually enjoying this? My body is on fire, burning with an unexpressed need. Yes, dear God help me, I am responding to it. And I berate myself for it. Now don't tell me you're being uncooperative again.

Defrosting Ice Queen

He is holding me tightly against him now with one arm, and with the other is reaching up under my short skirt. Weakened with arousal, I am helpless to fight as his hand moves upwards over my thigh. Did you moan for me? I thought I heard something.

Melting the Ice Princess

Maddeningly, he pauses at the juncture between my thighs. Moan for me now. Just one moan. His lips are on my neck, biting lightly, nuzzling and driving me wild. For me. She was a bit unsure and hesitated for a moment in protest, but eventually agreed, and with that I unhooked the two clips keeping her bra together and of course couldn't help getting a peek at the tag, 32b. I then slid her gown farther down until it was gathered at her waist.

I was now kneeling up by her head and massaging from her neck to just above her waist and back and in doing so would occasionally come in contact with the soft sides of her breasts as I moved up and down her torso. She never moved her arms to cover them and never said a word. I could feel her tension melting away as the massage went on and she continued to make soft sighing sounds. I guess I didn't realize how tense I was" she said softly. Please, continue for just a little longer won't you? I mean I don't mind" I said. Maybe you should look into hiring a masseuse?

I occasionally slid my hands down her lower back, beyond her waist, and just under her panty band, and onto the tops of her buttocks. She tensed up at first, but after several passes began to relax and I continued to move my hands a little farther down her ass, sliding her gown and panties farther down with each motion until I could just make out the top of her ass crack.

In some strange way, I was enjoying this almost as much as she was! I moved around to straddle her legs and continued to rub the oil into her back and the tops of her buttocks. She just kept purring and finally said, "Michael, I can't believe how nice this feels. Would you be a dear and do the back of my right leg too? My sciatica has been bothering me and maybe it will help.

I slowly started to apply the oil from her ankle to her calve and eventually up her thigh toward her covered bottom. I continued to rub the oil into her leg, her back, and eventually moved to both legs. She just kept sighing and commenting how nice it felt. I started to concentrate on her thighs and as my hands slid down the outside of her legs and then up the back and inside, I could feel her try to part them enough to allow me to work more freely. I then moved to allow her to separate her legs with my knees now between them for greater access.

She complied without hesitation. I was now free to run my oily hands all the way inside her soft white, dimpled thighs almost to her panties and was starting to detect what I was sure was the scent of female arousal. When my fingers accidently brushed the gusset of her panties on one of my upward passes, she tensed up and drove her pelvis into the carpet as a way of recoiling from the touch but then gradually relaxed. Noticing her reaction I "accidentally" repeated this motion a couple more times and she kept mewing and bucking into the carpet as I lightly brushed her pussy through her panties with my thumbs and finger tips.

Eventually, as I approached her pussy, she appeared to reach out for them instead of recoiling away, almost encouraging me to go further. I got bolder with each stroke until I finally placed the thumbs of both hands directly on her gusset at the juncture of her thighs, and felt for the first time the soft, tender flesh of her moistening pussy lips beneath. You shouldn't be touching me there" she said hoarsely with her head buried in the carpet, but she did nothing to attempt to stop me. In fact, as I continued to stroke her softness through the nylon material of her panties, she pushed back at me and spread her legs even more to allow me better access.

I continued to rub along the outside of her moistening slit and could now definitely smell her arousal and could make out some dampness in the center of the gusset of her panties. This surprised me a little as I thought the old bag was as dry as she was cold. Slowly, she began raising her ass to me, as if offering me more and more of her neglected body.

Here was this tiny, tightly wound, wrinkled old pain in my ass mother in law with her butt waving in the air while my fingers rubbed and toyed with her most private parts and she was loving every minute of it. And, so was I! My cock had been hardening for some time now and as I kept up the massage on my mother in law it was nearly poking out of the leg of my shorts. When I reached up and grabbed her panties and started to pull them off of her, she turned to me and said "Michael, what are doing?

You can't see me like this. If you want me to, I'll quit. Just say the word. Instead, she laid her head back down and moaned softly as my hands slid those white nylon panties down her ass and off her legs. I was now free to caress her bare ass and down her hips then back up her thighs to that warm, soft, hair lined slit between them. As I continued my fondling, my demure mother in law gradually pulled her knees up under her and was now offering me a totally unobstructed view and complete accesses to her most treasured place.

Having never seen my mother-in-law naked, I was a bit surprised to see her pussy looking so good. The outer lips were full and covered with graying hair that thinned out and trailed away as it led to her puckered star; the inner lips soft, pink, and to my surprise, quite moist.

She was now rocking along with my manipulations and getting quite aroused. Even the hair surrounding her glistening slit was getting soaked. From time to time she would murmur to me "Michael, you shouldn't be doing that It wasn't much longer before her moans got more pronounced and then she said to me with her voice now shaking, "please Michael, please go inside me, I need to feel you inside me. I had only rubbed my oiled hands along her hairy, glistening slit. I need this so badly. She narrowed her eyes and glared into mine as she spat out her reply. Just please Michael, please" she pleaded as her eyes and face softened a bit.

And, as I slid my shorts down and my aching cock sprang free, her eyes widened at the sight of it; hard and vein covered. Now I wasn't hung like a horse, nor as thick as a beer can, but I was a full eight inches when aroused and I was definitely aroused. She gasped for a moment, eyes widened, and then she turned to bury her head back in the carpet and await the fucking she so badly needed.

Sliding into her was like putting a hot knife to butter. I slowly, gradually, poured myself all the way inside her and had my midsection plastered to her soft dimpled ass cheeks, just holding it there to give her time to adjust and me time to relish being buried to the hilt in this miserable old woman. She just kept muttering "please, When I finally started rocking slowly in and out of her, she didn't move much, but eventually got into a rhythm and kept right up with me and even started giving back. Damn, she was tight as hell and her old pussy felt like liquid velvet.

I could not believe that I was actually fucking "the Ice Queen. After about five minutes of slow, steady strokes I said "Damn Edith, this feels so good. You're so hard Michael, so good, ohh This was unbelievable in so many ways but the feeling was too intense to last. Looking down, I saw her hanging, wrinkled tits swaying back and forth with our motion, and searching for them, I cupped them in my hands and began to pinch and pull on her hardening nipples as they rolled between my fingers.

And then she started; "Ahhh,.. And then I was right behind her, pumping several ribbons of hot sticky cum into that twitching old cunt. We stayed like that for a while, and when I finally slid out of her she slumped to the carpet panting, her body still vibrating from her climax. When she recovered, she looked back at me as I was pulling up my shorts and said, "Michael, you must promise me that Debbie will never know what just happened here. We both have way too much to lose over this.

You have my promise" And with that, as I got up to leave, she reached for her gown to cover herself, stood and gave me a warm hug and a soft, lingering kiss. On the lips! Report Story. Login or Sign Up. Literotica is a trademark.

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