Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Ihearhimmoveslowlyaroundtotheotherside,wherehetakesmyrightarmandcuffsit.Again,hislongfingerslingeralongmyarm.Ohmy…Iamfittoburstalready.Whyisthissoerotic?

           Hemovestothebottomofthebedandgrabsbothofmyankles.

           “Liftyourheadagain,”heorders.

           Icomply,andhedragsmedownthebedsothatmyarmsarestretchedoutandalmoststrainingatthecuffs.Holycow,Icannotmovemyarms.Afrissonoftrepidationmixedwithtantalizingexhilarationsweepsthroughmybody,makingmewetter.Igroan.Partingmylegs,hecuffsfirstmyrightankleandthenmyleftsoIamstakedout,spread-eagled,andtotallyvulnerabletohim.It’ssounnervingthatIcan’tseehim.Ilistenhard…what’shedoing?AndIhearnothing,justmybreathingandthepoundingthudofmyheartasbloodpulsesfuriouslyagainstmyeardrums.

           Abruptly,thesoftsilenthissandpopoftheiPodspringsintolife.Frominsidemyhead,aloneangelicvoicesingsunaccompaniedalongsweetnote,andit’sjoinedalmostimmediatelybyanothervoice,andthenmorevoices—holycow,acelestialchoir—singingacapellainmyhead,anancient,ancienthymnal.Whatinheaven’snameisthis?Ihaveneverheardanythinglikeit.Somethingalmostunbearablysoftbrushesagainstmyneck,runninglanguidlydownmythroat,slowlyacrossmychest,overmybreasts,caressingme…pullingatmynipples,it’ssosoft,skimmingunderneath.It’ssounexpected.