Part III

So there she was, stretched out and eager, ready to be taken, and I couldn't see her. Ah. In case you joined the story late, well it's a little complicated. Because of my foolish masculine pride, I was cajoled into mounting my paramour, Miss Marie Gonzales. You might remember her - that's right, short, taut, moderately curly black hair, eyes dark as coal, and a cunt that I had just inspected and passed with flying colours. She was the one stretched out on the plush desk in the headmaster's office at the school where I caretake. No, I know you'd like her naked, but alas, she was still fully clothed for now.

The next person I should mention is the woman kneeling on the floor, chained to the radiator with a gag in her mouth. I suppose, if you were objective, you would view her as a sultry, horny redhead with full breasts and biteable thighs. I'm not objective, because I'm her brother. She was chained and gagged so that she wouldn't be able to touch me or say anything to me while I was demonstrating my affection for Miss Gonzales.

That just leaves me. If I looked into the mirror, how would I describe myself? At the moment, the word would be "dark", because I was wearing a blindfold. You see, I didn't want to see my sister whilst enjoying the company of my darling atop the desk. I didn't want any of the other four senses from her either. I had actively prevented hearing and touch, hoping that taste and smell wouldn't be an issue. Ew. If I wasn't wearing the blindfold, I'd call myself tallish, well built, brown eyes, an English tan and a filthy grin.

Okay. Now that we're all up to speed, I can continue. Probably best if I start again, actually.

So there she was, stretched out and eager, ready to be taken, and I couldn't see her.

I was standing by the side of the desk, and I stretched out my arms. When I made contact, I heard a cute little "oo" from her. A little more contact revealed that my left hand was on her knee, and my right hand was just under her breast. Strangely, I contemplated the left hand first, and moved my right hand to join it.

I could feel the smooth fabric of her stockings, then I traced a finger in a semi-circle around the top of her knee, hearing a small clank-clank as she wiggled in her bonds. The most luscious part of her knee was the knowledge that the other knee was over a foot away, and couldn't move nearer to me. That encouraged me to lean in, and kiss her there, then kiss again, just above the knee. My fingers remained where they were, the pinky ticking the soft part on the back of the joint, which produced a contented purr. "Keep going, please," she urged. I'd never really concentrated on her voice before, but she had a lovely, lazy South American accent - not a 'drawl' but in that area - that had never aroused me so much. I tilted my head and kissed her on the inner thigh, feeling my ear brush against the hem of her skirt.

I was about to leave her knee, but before I did, I performed an act that I hoped would arouse Miss Gonzales as much as it aroused me. All I did was place a hand on the outside of each thigh, and cautiously push her skirt up about four inches. Then I left the skirt alone. Without telling her, I wanted her to know that I loved the idea of her being exposed a little by me, even though I couldn't see the exposure. I wanted to be able to call her when I was away, tell her to strip, and know that she was stripping. That's the power I wanted to have over her. More importantly, that's the submission she wanted to show. I could now hear her breathing heavily. She was clearly watching my every move, wondering what I would do next.

I moved down her leg to her foot, removed the shoe and gave her a firm foot massage for a brief moment, which produced wriggling, moans of pleasure and the first tinkle from Dhyanna's wrist restraints. I smiled as I imagined her frustration at not being able to see.

I moved across the edge of the desk and repeated the massage on Miss Gonzales' other foot. This time, I could hear a different texture of mewing from her, as though she was wondering what I would do next. I really did feel, now more than at any other time, that my hearing had improved, and I was super-aware of everything. When I moved slowly upwards, and when I inched past her knee, letting my frolicking hands tease her thighs, I drew back my hand and slapped her hard on the inner thigh.

"Hnnng!" she moaned. If Dhyanna tinkled in the background, I was now in the zone, and ignored it.

SLAP! The second slap was harder, the moan louder. But there I stopped. I just wanted to prove that I was almost as capable of surprising her, even though I was blind. I continued. When I reached the hem of her light blue skirt, I ran the back of my fingers over the point where the skin stopped - for it was above her stocking tops - and where the skirt began. I could almost feel the goosebumps being raised as I moved. When I reached over to do the same with the other thigh, I could feel the tension in her leg as she clenched her muscles in anticipation.

She was at my mercy, like a piece of clay that I could mould to whatever form I wanted. By touching a foot, slapping a leg or scratching a thigh, I could make her relax or tense, moan or sigh: and being blind did not affect me at all. I felt like one of those medieval sculptors, blind but inspired.

Knowing that you're in control doesn't mean that much, of course, not unless you use that control. I moved my hand back to the inner thigh nearest to me, and gently slid it up the remaining inch or two to her pussy. I heard a gasp, and then as my fingertip eased between the symmetrical folds of skin and into her slit, the gasp became a whimper. She rightly suspected that I was the sort of person who might leave that fingertip there all day. It was only when she shuffled forwards to try to get an extra inch of finger inside her did I realise how aroused this young lady was. I withdrew my finger, licked it, and savoured the taste.

"You are quite scrumptious, my darling."

"Th-thank you, sir." Her voice, the most important giveaway to her feelings, tried desperately to sound calm, but it accidentally rose an octave when she said ‘you’, and turned to a sigh when she said ‘sir’.

I moved on. Now that her feet were on my right side, I placed my right hand on her waistband, and my left hand on her belly, before turning it into a spider that crawled deliberately up to her right breast. Another gasp emerged from Miss Gonzales as I gave it a tender 'testing a loaf of bread' squeeze through the soft fabric of her blouse. I could feel the aroused nipple through the material, and I could not resist giving it a tight little pinch.

"Yow!" she cried indignantly, though I knew that if I asked her, she'd want another one. I gave her another one, when my other hand pinched the left nipple. Then I pulled up on them, as though trying to levitate her off the desk. I could hear her struggle to arch her back in her bonds, and after a twist at the highest point, I let her drift back to her position. Her panting was much louder now, and I heard her gulp and swallow, trying to catch her breath.

"I think you have too many clothes, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. And not enough shoes."

I smiled warmly, then reached up the lapels of her blouse, moving my hands to the top button. And then I changed my mind. I moved back to her chest, grabbed a handful of blouse in each hand, and ripped it open. I felt a button ping off my nose, and heard a few others land on the desk. The chief reaction from Miss Gonzales was an "Oh yessss", in such a quiet hiss that I had to strain to hear her.