Toe Curling Fun

Ziva hangs from the ceiling rig, black hair falling across her face, feet bare and twitching in the air. She’s new. First day in. And already stripped, ankles strapped, arms useless. The guy below her is already hard—cut cock standing up between his trimmed bush. He reaches up and wraps his hand around her foot, thumb pressing into the sole. Ziva jerks. Tries to pull away, but the straps hold. He starts slow. Just tracing along the arch, running a single finger from heel to toe, watching her whole leg shake. Every time she gasps he stops. Lets the tension build. Then starts again—lighter, meaner. He switches to her other foot, does the same thing until both are trembling. Ziva’s breathing gets sharp. Her toes curl hard, trying to hide. He just pries them open again, slow, deliberate. Runs his tongue over the pad of each toe, then blows cool air across the wet skin. She whimpers. The straps creak. He grins. Keeps going. Never letting her come down. Never giving her what her body’s begging for. Just edging her with every flick of his tongue and every cruel pause in between.