“I’ve a good mind to put you across my knee.” Your involuntary whimper gives you away. At this point you would accept a spanking, if only for the physical closeness it would give. “No,” I say, and you can hear the grin, “that would be too easy for you,” and suddenly you can’t feel my hands on you anymore. You are stood wearing only your knickers, blindfolded, and have no idea what is happening. You realise with a start that anyone could have joined us, you may have an audience. A bigger fear forms – what if I am broadcasting your nakedness across the internet. Your hands rush to cover the sheer material over your crotch, your arms pushing your breasts together, deepening your cleavage. There is a wait. It can only be seconds, but feels like hours. You can’t hear me, you can’t sense me near you. What is happening? Suddenly the silence breaks. “Why so shy?” You feel something nudge the back of your leg, above the knee, then my hands on your shoulders, pushing down this time, guiding. The tools hit the workbench with a clang as his hands slammed down to brace himself. He sucked in a breath, then another. Let out a long, low moan. His stomach muscles contracted, quivered, then contracted again, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he fought for control.She felt him grow, grow, thicker, harder, felt his head swell, her hand catching hard on the crown as it slid over it. Releasing his balls, her other hand travelled further back between his legs, found that sensitive spot behind them, and applied pressure to it.His whole body tensed, his breath came in short bursts, and she knew it would be only moments before he found his release. Not willing to end things so soon, she gave him a few more hard strokes, then released the hot, pulsing flesh, withdrew her other hand as well.The groan that escaped him this time sounded more like a growl, and was full of frustration. Hands gripped so tightly around his tools they threatened to break the handles, he turned and fixed.
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