Daughters By Michael van den Heuvel / Bdsm / edge/denial / confessions

https://a.co/d/04oqcTzg

“It’s a slow stew. You marinate the meat for twelve to twenty-four hours, then cook it for three or four hours on a low simmer. But I only let it cook for one hour. We had the French fries on the plates, homemade mayonnaise, the meat in sauce next to it. He tasted. I knew he would notice.” She swallowed. “He poured his meat back into the pot. Did the same with mine. Put it on the stove. Then he pulled me to the bedroom. Undressed me. Tied my wrists to the headboard. Slowly tied my legs. Spread-eagle. I was laying there, exposed. And he just… spoke. Made me horny with words about what he could do with me while I was tied up, under his control. He played softly with my petite breasts. Licked them. Pinched them a little. Then massaged me. Slowly between my legs. Edged me. For two hours.” Mia’s voice trembled just slightly. “I begged him to make me cum. Promised whatever. But he just spoke in food analogies. ‘It needs time to simmer. Slow will get it ready.’ Finally, after about two hours… he made me cum.” She paused, senses glistening. “Then he gave me an apron. Set me to make new French fries. Stood behind me, teasing. I could feel him pressing against me, hard, touching my breasts, commenting on the slices of the potatoes. I wanted to finish him. But he said, ‘We eat first. Then maybe after the dishes and the coffee… if it’s not too late, you can…’” Mia gave a watery laugh. “I have never seen somebody drink coffee so slowly. It was torture. But it also felt so good. I would replay that in my head for so many nights.”