Free Natural Law by Joey W. Hill

control like the powering of a blood pressure cuff. She 40

    Natural Law
    stepped forward, her knees brushing his back, and tested the fit. She’d got it right on the first try. He couldn’t get loose, but the blood still circulated, pumping with a vengeance.
    “I’m going to take you up, now,” she said. “You tell me if you get thirsty, Mac.”
    “It won’t happen, Mistress.”
    “I’ll remind you of that when either your arms are dislocated or your cock gets ripped off.”
    “You won’t let that happen, Mistress. You have plans for the latter, at least.”
    “Yes. Yes, I do.” Her tone was slightly amused, in a way that made him somewhat ashamed of the desperate attempt at charm, though he didn’t know where the shame came from.
    “Spread your knees for me, Mackenzie. I need them about three feet apart.” He moved his legs apart, feeling the cock harness strap that ran between his legs lift and divide his balls. A moment later he felt the straps of the ankle restraints bolted onto a slide rack on the floor tighten on his flesh. She added a second set of restraints to his calves just above the knees and tied them to rings in the floor parallel to the outside of his legs, leaving just a touch of slack. He didn’t have long to wait to find out why.
    The gears whirred, and the cable above him began to retract, taking his arms up higher and drawing his upper body into a straight, stretched line. He’d obeyed her orders and made sure he was back far enough from the ring in the floor that there was little slack in tether between his cock and the harness, so when she anchored his legs to the floor and began to raise him up, the line between cock and floor became even tighter. His knees left the floor a half inch, pressing against the knee restraints, and he grunted despite himself.
    The switch locked him into position, and she came around and ran her hand over his scrotum and bound cock, testing the tension of the line between the harness and the floor. It was taut enough to cause him apprehension, but not painful. With his ankles spread and shackled to the floor behind him, his body suspended in the air by the ceiling tether, his calves bound and his cock tethered to the strap pulled taut to the eyebolt in the floor, he was counterweighted on all sides. Gravity would not twist or pull him in any direction that could injure him. However, the position itself was excruciating and left him vulnerable, and there was a knot of tension low in his gut that he had not experienced since his first time being trussed by a Mistress. He was also hard as steel and getting harder, his desperate lust and the emotions she was somehow driving in him giving him one of the most enormous hard-ons he’d ever had. In odd contrast, she was methodical, gentle in the way she touched him, her fingers brushing his naked body lightly as she passed him, fondling his shoulder, his throat. He tried to nip her fingers as she passed, but she just smiled at him and went back to her chair.
    She sat down like a lady at tea, crossing one ankle over the other, folding her hands in her lap. She took a long moment studying him, erect and suffering.
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    Joey W. Hill
    “I know making you sit there and do nothing while I look at you may not do much for you,” she observed. “Men aren’t very psychological when it comes to stimulation.
    Suggest the erotic to a woman in a voice rough with passion, or on the written page, and she’ll become wet. But a man needs visuals.” She uncrossed her ankles, and inched up her skirt with a finger following the line of her thigh, tracing the garter. She put the middle finger of her other hand to her mouth, wetting it. He followed that finger as if it were the last crust of bread for a starving man. Her knees spread wider, displaying those soft pink cunt lips again. With barely a hesitation, she slid the wet finger deep inside herself, up to the last knuckle, and he heard the sucking sound of her eager pussy,