The lick of the red slid against my thigh, tantalisingly slow, before a twist and a bite is given against my flesh, and one more knot is tied.
Repeat.

This one seems slower, or has my perception of the passage of time being distorted. Lick. Bite. I sighed against the wet silk, that was loosely draped over my lips.

His fingertips trail over my skin, moving between the lines of rope, touching my skin and feeling how taut the ropes are. Moving one here and there for alignment, or is it to touch the rope markings left on my skin.

A whisper, that I didn't quite catch, and then my hands are lowered slowly from their position tied above my head. The rush of blood and nerve made me me shiver, and my body floods in goosebumps.

His fingertips run slow rings around my wrists, and seemingly satisfied, he grips one of my fingers and kisses it. The warmth of his mouth left a sigh on my lips.

Is he about to untie them? No. He lashes them near my ankles. I am struck - strapped and vulnerable.

A soft kiss is left on my knee, before they are parted, wide. Oh. I'm so exposed. Instinctively I try to draw them back together. My modesty overtakes me, but my knees don’t obey, and soon I am tethered and can't move - my legs held wide apart and I feel so naked.

Was that his mouth, or finger tips against my mound? My mind was concentrating on my knees so I couldn't distinguish.

“What sort of tea did you make?” he murmured against a part of exposed soft flesh of my inner thigh.

‘Tea?’ I repeated the word, confused. My thoughts trace back, in and out of differing thoughts. The pot of tea I had just made, before he had led me away from the kitchen.

The warmth of his face was gone from my thighs, and I listen as he leaves the room. ‘Fuck’, is he going to leave me here, on edge, naked, and go have tea?

“It’s tepid,” he said as he returned, in a voice warmer than the announced tea. The spout of the teapot is pressed against my stomach a moment, then a spill of tea filled my belly button and I could feel it drip down the side of her waist, pooling at my side, wetting the sheets. The spout was is drawn down from my belly, leaving wet warmth in its trail. The tea was then dripped over my mound, and through my pussy lips, as I tried to uselessly draw my legs together.

More tea, more warmth.

Then a mouth. “Liquorice,” he murmurs softly as he consumes both me and the tea.