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He pressed the device harder into her now dripping slit, eliciting louder and more frantic pleas. He began moving the devilish implement up and down her slit from her asshole to her hyper sensitized clit. "Ohhhh, Master, may I cum?" she whimpered within minutes. "No," he said flatly. He continued rubbing the maddening device against her wet slippery slit. "Master please! Please may I cum?" she repeated a minute or so later. "No, not yet," he said. "Oh god! Master, please! Please, I need to cum so bad!" Chelsea cried desperately. "You NEED to cum?" he asked mocking her plea. "Yes! Oh yes, Master! PLEEEASE! Please let me cum! Oh, I'll do anything!" Chelsea sobbed. She was beyond desperate, now. She was near hysteria. She needed to cum or she would explode. He moved around and knelt in front of her down at her face level. He grabbed her hair and hauled her head up to look at him. "You'll do anything, slut?" he asked. "Yes, Master. Anything, just please let me cum. Anything, please.. I tried to see who it was, but the blindfold prevented me. Was it a man or a woman? I couldn’t tell, but the hands began a slow gentle massage of my upper body. They caressed my neck and shoulders. I was tense, but somehow the hands relaxed me I knew whoever it was would never hurt me. Slowly I began to appreciate that it doesn’t matter who is doing the massage, I simply relaxed and enjoyed the sensations.The hands drifted slowly down my body. They were now on my upper chest, gliding across the upper slopes of my breasts, before moving back up to my neck and stroking the delicate skin there. I tried to move, but the ties, soft as they were, stopped me. I was held, helpless as the hands begin their downward quest again. This time they tenderly stroked over the bra and across my breasts. I started as they do so, but the smooth soft rhythm just carries on. No words are spoken. I started to protest, but one of the hands covered my mouth - gently, but I was aware of an inner strength. The.
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That would be easy enough." You'd have to keep track of how many you'd need and how many you made," Mort said."Mort, that's great!" Hal turned and said. "D'ya think Stanton would go for it? We'd be caught up in no time and actually get ahead of Ace Builders down the road." He might," Mort said. "You've got to convince him." What—why me," Hal protested. "You should tell him. It's your idea." Naw—that's okay," Mort replied. "You tell him. Tell him you thought of it."Hal paused before answering. He sensed something wrong in the older man's tone. Maybe it was the way he looked away after he spoke."I don't get it, Mort. It's your idea. You should go to Stanton." No, you go," Mort mumbled. "You lay it out for Stanton—and be sure to tell him you thought it up." What're ya talkin' about, Mort? You should get the credit. Besides, how can I explain your idea as well as you?"Mort squinted at Hal from behind his black-framed glasses. "Just do it, Sonny. Take the whole thing with my blessing..

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