I’d got off while bound before but there was something about the position, and having my hands trapped behind me, that made my body feel like a gun someone else had fired. I came, thrashing and shuddering, in a wild jet that George made exactly zero attempt to control for me. My orgasm-wrecked brain helpfully slo-mo’ed the experience: an arc of my own semen pattering gently down on my celluloid self. “For my private collection,” murmured George. I collapsed against her, panting and satisfied. “You are a sick fuck.” “I’ve never claimed otherwise.”
