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Nyomi Banxxx dominates Shane Diesel with strapon.

The blood is pumping faster now throughout my body. The sound of metal clanging fills my ears as he pulls out each item. Can I do this? Can I sit here and allow him to do the things I long for him to do to me? I can't move. I don't want to move.

I feel my leg being lifted. My shoe is slipped off. Now the soft underbelly of the cuffs is against my ankle. He buckles it on and moves to the other leg. When he finishes the last leg I feel his touch on the back of my hands that I have neatly placed on each knee. I surrender them both to him and allow him to finish placing the other two cuffs around my wrists. Next is the collar. As he lifts my hair to fasten it around my throat I can smell the leather it's made from. Just the small and feel of all this causes me to feel electrified. I feel the want building up now. My nipples tingle beneath my t-shirt. My whole body is screaming to be touched now, but he's moved away. I'm left with this hunger. I know he's teasing me, building my desire for what he has planned next.

I don't have to wait long. He's taking my hand now. But he doesn't lead me anywhere. Instead he tells me to get down on my knees. As I kneel before him I feel him attaching something to the ring on my collar. How far is he willing to take this? How far am I willing to follow him? I hear him pick up my bag. As he tugs on the collar I instinctively go down on all fours and crawl toward wherever it is he, and the leash he's just put me on, are taking me.

I sense that we've entered another room now. The temperature is cooler and I hear the hum of a fan of in the distance. He stops and I stop beside him. I want to speak, to ask him what his plans are. But I know that I'm to remain quiet. A tug on the leash lets me know I'm to stand now. As I raise myself up I reach out to steady myself. For the first time my hand briefly touches him before he pulls away. I want to touch, to feel him. My hands love exploring his body. There's just something so erotic about the feel of skin on your fingertips. There are so many different feelings, depending on where you touch. The roughness of stubble on a man's face, the tough, thick skin of his palms, the soft, smooth feel of his manhood, there are just so many textures of skin to explore.

As I stand there I hear the bag drop onto what I can only assume is a bed. Again I hear rattling of metal as he busies himself with my things, my toys. An appropriate description considering we long ago named our time together as 'playtime'. I miss those times.

Suddenly I'm being lifted off of my feet, carried and dropped upon a bed.

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