Her dainty fingers lightly grasped at the ropes that bound her wrists above her head, hanging her from the ceiling like a piece of livestock. The rope burned, and scratched into her soft, pale flesh lit only by the softest of candlelight. “You d-don’t have to do this s-sir…” she mewled out softly between her raspy breathing, and racing heart. “I do” his voice sung out softly from behind, just inches from her head. His voice was a nice mix between a baritone, and a tenor. Not too deep, and not too high pitched.
With a grunt, she yanked at the ropes to try, in vain, to get herself out. “Trust me…you aren’t going anywhere” he hissed against her ear. His breath hot, flush against her soft, perspiring flesh. “Y-you said you j-just wanted to g-get drinks! M-my husband…h-he’ll be missing me!” she whimpered, trying her hardest to persuade him. “Don’t worry about him. I took care of it. He got a call about ten minutes ago from his boss stating that he needed to stay late to go over some extra paperwork” he said calmly as the sound of his footsteps faded into the background. “W-what is it that you w-want s-sir? I d-don’t have any money!” she mewled, big, blue eyes wide with fear, and just the slightest bit of pleasure. Her body was betraying her mind. Every single synapse was firing off, telling her to get the fuck out. To break her wrists, and bolt for the door, but his dominance, that voice, the way he spoke to her. Her body was obeying his command to stay.