Smoke And Mirrors

Natalia Raye lies stretched and splayed, limbs pulled tight against the straps. A dark blindfold cuts off the world. Only the rasp of breath fills the space between her parted lips. She stays silent, waiting. A slim shadow leans close, smoke curling from the edge of a cigarette. The tip glows like a live coal, the only light in the dim room. It drifts lower. Heat kisses the side of one breast. She gasps, then grins through the sting. The next drag leaves another red promise on her ribs, tracing a slow path toward her navel. Her chest rises quick. Each touch of heat makes her arch harder against the ropes. Fingers follow the burns, pinching, tugging, drawing out the sweet ache. She moans low, hungry. The voice above her asks if it hurts. She nods, smiling wider. The teasing drags on. The cigarette dances closer, retreats, comes back. Every pause leaves her straining for the next kiss of fire. Sweat beads at her collarbone. The blindfold stays in place, turning every sensation sharper. She can’t see the hands that own her, but she can feel them mark her, own her, keep her right where she belongs. She stays spread, dripping, aching, and grateful for every cruel second of it.