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For Daniella all was darkness. The sleep mask he had slipped over her eyes encased her in velvet black. Every other sense was heightened. She heard the soft whirr of the fan and the rustle of his clothing, as perhaps he crossed his legs or shifted in his seat. She smelled the honeysuckle through the open window and the sharp tang of cologne whenever he drew close. She felt the prickling of cooling sweat on her exposed skin every time the fanned air brushed her. And she felt the tautness of the knotted bonds around her wrists and ankles. Hell, she almost felt his eyes on her. They were patrolling her body for sure, calm and alert, enjoying her, consuming her.

But chiefly she felt the soft, insistent buzz between her legs, the sensation over which he had complete control. He had plucked her panty crotch aside to insert the slim vibrator lovingly inside her, and those panties, the only garment he had left her wearing, held it firmly in place as it burred and fizzed. Currents of delicious, maddening sensation emanated from her gently moving loins to all quarters of her body, pricking her nipples, electrifying her spine so she writhed, her sweat-soaked back and bottom slipping against the smooth varnish of the chair. The buzzing increased, sensation building, her pussy clutching the vibrating pencil within, drenching her panties and thighs with a steady flow of responsive juice. Her head tilted against the back of the chair, her breathing ragged, as the tension in her body curved upwards into an exponential spike.

...

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