When my last limb is secured to the last ring by the last length of red velvet rope, Bert walks back to the chair, his chair, and sits down in it and ...tares at me. His stare feels like a punch in the gut. The clock says that it is five after one and I can’t move, not even to cover myself with my hands, so I guess I am going to be stared at for as long as he wants, maybe for a full hour.I can see him staring at my breasts and I want to cover them with something. I pull on the ropes without. So the times when I get a bit hot and bothered I take care of myself. A skill that I've honed since my mid teens. As a rule I dislike fingering, or clit rubbing, but vibrators, dildos, pillow humping, I've tried it all. My breasts have always been sensitive and a focal point for myself and others they attract a lot of attention, especially when I was thinner.But that's just a little history on me. There happens to be a man that interests me, at least physically, though I would never do anything. More

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