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10:00 video

September 25, 2025
A First for Jackie, to be Tied & Tongue-Tormented by Sandra’s Submissive Service!

I have to admit, this scene was super hot to experience! I had to imagine myself in Jackie's place, I enjoyed my own view point so much, why not fantasise about her's also? So here's my take on Jackie's thoughts... I wonder what yours will be  ;-)  :-)  

We’re both bound.

That was the plan from the start - equal helplessness, total surrender. Sandra and I, tied in tandem on the soft white rug, our bodies arranged like mirror images of desire. I’m on my back across the ottoman, wrists knotted above my head with hemp rope, in a bind that pulls my chest forward, my pink dress riding up to expose every trembling inch of my bare thighs.

Sandra’s placed below me, on her knees at first, but not to be submissive for long. I feel her want to take control, pulsing like heat between us.

Ben - that wickedly wonderful, silent puppeteer - wraps her wrists too, securing them behind her back with the same soft-hewn rope. Her knit dress clings to her curves as she sways towards me, eager yet trying to balance, but there’s no way without freedom. She topples forward, only inches landing on her hands—or where her hands should be—but they’re gone, bound, useless. So she catches herself with a soft landing, in my lap.

I wiggle, testing my binds - the rope creaks, my pink heels scrape the floor, and I spread my legs as wide as the ankle cord allows. A silent invitation. And she sees it.

Only lips.
Only tongue.
Only need.
Our breath quickens.

She’s close now. So close I feel the heat of her mouth before she even touches me.

Contact.

Her lips press to my inner thigh, soft at first, teasing. A kiss. Another. Then her tongue drags up - slow, wet, deliberate - lapping at my slit through the slickness already pooling there. I arch, but the AOH tie holds me firm, only letting me tremble, only letting me feel.

She laps again. Deeper. Her nose nudges my clit as her mouth opens wide, sucking me in - lips sealing, tongue swirling - and just like that, I’m moaning into the quiet room, hips jerking against the ropes, toes flexing bare, heels kicked off and forgotten.

She can’t use her hands.
She can’t push me open.
But she doesn’t need to.

My body does it for her - spreading, dripping, offering - and she takes everything with that greedy, bound mouth.

Another pass. Then another. Her chin glistens. Her breath comes in hot bursts against my sensitive skin. I feel the second wave building - slow, deep, inevitable - and this time, when I come, it’s with her name screaming silently in my mind, my entire body convulsing, my bare feet lifting off the floor as the orgasm rips through me.

She doesn’t stop. She can’t, not without hands to push herself back.

So she stays buried in me, licking through the aftershocks, her own thighs pressed together, her own need obvious, her gray shorts darkening with desire.

I quiver, helpless, dripping, ravenous.

Next time, I’ll be the one feasting.
And Sandra’ll be the one left trembling, lips only, bound and begging.