Her hand slid slowly over the cotton of her panties. Her lips swelled. Her camel toe prominent as her finger slowly ran up and down the crease. She eagerly looked at the photos on her phone. Studying each one carefully. Photos of me that my former Mistress took. Photos in compromising positions. I watched her on the hidden camera I had in the stuffed bear I gave her for Valentine’s day. The camera she didn’t know was enclosed gave me a perfect view of her on her bed.
Her hand moved inside her panties, under the fabric; her knuckles still telling the story of her self-caresses. I watched, engorged, my cock straining to be touched but I wanted to stay with her. Watch her to the end before I satisfied myself.
She put the phone down, concentrating on her dirty thoughts. I could see her screen. It was the pick of me strapped to the chair with my cock at attention. Stiff, vulnerable, wanting. It reminded me of how desperate my Mistress had gotten me. How she teased me and kept me on edge, leaving my hands tied behind my back. Taking pictures.
She was rubbing furiously now, waving her fingers quickly and gently over her sensitive clit. Stopping occasionally to push her fingers deep inside her tunnel, pressing them against her g-spot, forcing me toward excitement. Forcing me toward an orgasm which I gave into a little before hers.
She would return and start all over again in a half hour while I was still spent.