Michael Points Out the Facts
"I can't help but notice that you let me tie your wrists together," Michael said mildly, as though they were just discussing the weather and his fingers weren't busily sawing in and out of Aurora's wet cunt. "That's kind of curious, don't you think? I mean, you struggled, yes, but you didn't start struggling until I already had your hands bound and the ropes looped around that little hook on the side of the coffee table. The one you asked me about, Rory. Isn't that kind of curious?" Rory didn't answer. She couldn't, not with a strip of duct tape covering her lips and her panties jammed into her mouth.
"And your clothes," Michael continued, his voice bland and pleasant and yet somehow easily audible over the sound of Aurora's muffled grunts. "I mean, yes, I did cut them off you with a pair of fabric scissors, and yes, you did kind of beg me to stop, but--well, it is kind of interesting that you came over to my apartment wearing the cheapest, most disposable outfit you have, isn't it? And they're all new clothes, too. Almost like you bought them knowing they were going to get shredded and tossed in the trash by the time the night was over." Aurora's brow furrowed as she tried to remember her exact process in selecting her clothes, or even just her reason for the visit, but Michael was finger-fucking her very hard and it made holding onto a train of thought something of a struggle.
"And I mean, it wasn't like you worked very hard to stop me, even with your hands trapped like that," he chuckled, sounding more like he'd just read a particularly amusing joke in Reader's Digest than he did like someone who was pistoning two fingers in and out of his neighbor's sopping pussy. "You didn't yell, even though the walls in this building are pretty thin and someone would probably have heard you, and you didn't kick out at me--you just sort of wriggled and whimpered while I bound your thighs to your calves and tied your legs to the corners of the coffee table to display your cunt to me. What do you think that says about you, Rory, hmm? What does that tell us about where your head is at?"
He lapsed into an expectant silence, one broken only by the sloppy squishing noises of two fingers pumping in and out of a cunt so wet it was dripping onto the floor, but of course Rory could only mewl and whine through her panties so he was forced to continue. "I think it tells me that your deep self wants to be my bound and helpless slut. I think the hypnotic suggestions found something powerful all the way down in the center of your subconscious mind that craves to be dominated, and when I told you what was going to happen the next time you came over you got so wet and horny that you didn't even try to fight it. I think you only forget what happens when you're here because it makes you feel that much more weaker to be surprised by your submission, and you're just going to repeat this surrender again and again for me until you're totally mine. Don't you?"
Rory still couldn't talk. But she could nod, meekly and submissively with her eyes unable to meet his gaze, and that's exactly what happened as she felt another orgasm rip through her brain.
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