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Tristan was beautiful. I fingered his locks of hair gently, looking into his big brown eyes. The ballgag looked nice against his skin as I brushed it over his cheek and watched how his eyes wandered down to it, registered some sort of hesitation and dread, then closed slowly. His eyelashes were long, dark. I moved my finger over them slowly and he flinched.
This moment was wonderful to me, having him there, so helpless. I was leaning over him in the chair, my body so close to him yet he could not do anything. The key to his bonds was hanging around my neck on a silver chain, and that alone was just inches from his lips. If his eyes were open, he could see it, perhaps reach out for it with his talented tongue.
But he kept them closed in anticipation of the ballgag. I straddled his lap and eased down onto him, rubbing my panties into his naked erection. Yes, he was naked. Naked and vulnerable, and I was in bra and panties, garters, and high heels.
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