bdsd

“Well, Jim, that’s about to change.” I could feel her hand searching for my fly. The zipper made a soft ripping sound as she slowly opened my pants and reached inside for my stiff dick. “I am going to take care of this problem for you. You can’t recite Shakespeare with a boner like this.” She kept her gaze fixed on me as she slowly dropped to her knees while gently rubbing my cock. Once she got face-to-face with my member, she swirled the head with her tongue.

Truthfully, I remember being terrified at this moment, images of a crazed black widow cutting off my cock with a straight razor. But, at 15, the prospect of a bigger cock, at least looking bigger, was irresistible.“Uh, sure. I guess. Never thought about it.”

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.