She found herself in the Jaguar E-like vehicle with her Mistress driving and looking
straight ahead, not paying any attention to her. Her legs were held wide open with her
feet bound to the rings embedded in the floor and additional leather bands holding her
knees apart. Her hands were at her sides, encased in stiff mittens and fastened to some
sort of belt snugly encircling her waist.
She felt exposed and vulnerable and at the same time she was comfortable and secure in
the knowledge that her Mistress would protect her and take care of her.
Suddenly there was a hand on her thigh…soft fingers…first caressing the outside of her
leg and then resting on her left knee, just above the strip of leather holding her.
“Please, Mistress, don’t stop.” She whispered.
The hand left her knee and a finger was put in front of her lips. She tried to kiss it
but was not fast enough. Her eyes followed the hand as it shifted gears and then rested on
the lever, gently holding the wooden knob, almost stroking it.
She stifled a frustrated sigh and stared at the strong fingers, willing them back to her
skin. She could already smell the arousal the simple gesture had elicited between her
thighs. Minutes passed like hours. Once again there was a change in gears.
The hand returned to the steering wheel, her green eyes widened in protest but there was
nothing she could do, nothing. Her Mistress obviously didn’t want her to talk or make any
other noise. She had to keep still.
Finally she closed her eyes in resignation and two heartbeats later the hand returned,
stroking the outside of her thigh with the back of its fingers, starting high at the hip
and traveling slowly towards the knee. She didn’t dare to open her eyes, fearing the hand
would leave again.
A lone fingertip circled her kneecap and ventured to the inside of her thigh. It slowly
inched upwards, only a short distance, less than the finger’s length. Then she felt a
short fingernail on her eager skin being dragged back to the knee. She wished she could
open her legs even wider than they were held. She wanted to invite the hand in but she
knew better than to even twitch. She didn’t want the hand to go away.
The finger movement was repeated, time and again, touching more skin with each passage. A
second finger was added and then a third and a fourth. She wanted to feel more of her
Mistress, wanted her to press those fingers hard into the soft skin, leaving marks that
would brand her as owned…but the touch stayed as light as a feather.
“Open your eyes and look, little one.”
She didn’t need a second invitation to drink in the sight of those strong fingers playing
with her. She was getting wetter by the minute and her heart began to beat faster. The
curled fingers stopped in mid-movement during a downward stroke. The next moment her
Mistress’ cool palm was lying fully on her warm flesh. The hand gently squeezed her, still
not having gone higher than mid-thigh.
She knew it was only a question of time but it was so hard to stay still, so hard not to
urge the hand on, so hard not to demand, not to order more. But it also was deliciously
right…a sweet torture that she didn’t deserve after her appalling behaviour the night
before.
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