.. and tied up. It looked like she had metal manacles around her ankles, keeping her feet on the floor, with about 2 feet between them. And leather cuffs hold her wrists together, and kept her arms taunt above her head. Her torso was naked, but she could feel she wore tights, panties, and shoes. As far as she could guess, they were her own clothes. She felt a rough wall against her back... obviously there was some fabric between her buttocks and the wall, not just her panties and tights. Her captor(ess?) had let her keep her skirt too.Suddenly, she heard a muffled buzz, and she felt a column of hot air in front of her. She could feel the heat on her legs, on her belly, and especially on her breasts. It stopped just when the ends of her tits started to ache.This thing happened again a few minutes later. It repeated regularily. Soon, she remarked that it lasted longer... or were her tits becoming more sensitive? She realized it must have happened for a while when she was asleep, before. Something about it makes me feel so incredibly sexy. As the music that only I can hear swells to the chorus, I flip my hair back, dancing all by myself as he sings about his desire. ‘Well I’m not paralyzed /but I seem to be struck by you. I want to make you move /because you’re standing still.’ My body feels liquid as I float around the room delighted by the air caressing my bare skin. The ghostly words of Finger Eleven’s song seducing my mind and heating my body. I close my eyes and imagine my husband, Tommy, lying on the bed. His eyes hooded with desire, his manhood standing tall with respect, as I move around before him. Feeling giddy at the thought of being watched, I smile to myself and cup my breasts - for Tommy’s benefit. Feeling the music flow through me, I welcome the way my muscles burn as they bunch and stretch, twisting and turning my body. My nipples harden beneath the heat of my palms as I tenderly handle the soft skin of my plump breasts. My head lulls back. Wet hair.
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