He leans over me and nips my earlobe. “If you want to be restrained, just ask me nicely. Don’t say things to piss me off.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper. I should apologize but can’t form the words.
“I’m still not letting you come.” His gaze searches the area behind me. “You have another outfit here?”
“Yes—”
He stalks behind me and picks up my discarded blouse.
“What are you doing?”
“Quiet.”
Somewhere, my brain says I should be outraged.
He jerks my blouse under my body, working it to my shoulders, then tangling it around my arms. “What are you doing?” I twist and try to sit up again.
“Don’t. Move.”
“I’m stuck.”
“I know.” He flashes an evil grin and twists the blouse, further trapping me.
“What are you doing?” I repeat.
Holding onto the material, he squats down.
I strain and twist my head, trying to see what creative torture he’s planning. The material yanks tighter, leaving me open and at his mercy.
“Are you tying me to my desk with my own clothes?” Shock and outrage squeeze my voice high.
“Looks like it.” He scoops my underwear off the desk and shoves it in my mouth. “It’s messy but it’ll hold you for now.”
“Marcel!” I mumble, shaking my head and spitting damp lace from my lips.
He strokes his fingers over my breasts and down my stomach as he returns to the other side. “I like you like this.”
“I don’t.” Liar, liar, pussy on fire.
He smirks. “Sure you don’t.” My chair squeaks as he sinks into it. He rolls it closer until his breath puffs over my legs. His rough hands caress my thighs. “You should see how wet you are.”
He runs his fingers down my center, then holds them in front of my face. “You don’t have to say anything. I have all the evidence I need, counselor.”
I turn my head and snort-giggle into my armpit.
There’s a click and a buzz. Something tickles right above my clit. My body jolts but I can’t go far.
“Not so funny now, is it?” Marcel says, slowly rolling whatever toy of torture he brought with him over me.
“Where did you…whose is that?” I squirm, trying to see what he’s using.
He flicks the vibrator off. “It’s yours. You left it at the house. Whole way up here, I was planning how I wanted to use it on you. Never expected you’d ask if I’d been banging bunnies while I was downstate.”
“I’m—”
He flicks the vibrator on again, drowning out my apology. Every time, just as I’m close to release, he stops. I try to be sneaky and not make a peep. But he just knows when I’m close.
“You’re so beautiful spread out like this.” He brushes his fingers over my stomach. “It almost hurts to look at you.”