Thanks as always to Ang the Sweltering Celt for the weekly themes!
Dangling. Rough hemp rope digging into wrists, thighs, ankles, shoulders, waist, breasts, ass, cunt. Rough hemp rope getting soaked, perspiration and female aroma. It was hot. She was hot.
He approaches her, a smirk only exaggerating the wicked in his eyes. In one hand he holds the hard silicock strapped to his pelvis; in the other, a crop. The crop raises, traces curves. The curves arch. The mouth opens, lips wet, tongue reaching. The cock steps closer. But not. Close. Enough. A whimper. A chuckle. The sharp crack of crop on buttock. She sways back and forth.
He circles behind her. Strong hands circle slender ankles. Legs spread, lips wet, clit throbbing. He moves in. The cock positions, traces curves. The curves arch, encircling bulbous head. He pushes closer. But not. Close. Enough.