“Pull those nipples,” I moaned. I truly love having my tits pulled when I’m being fucked. He gave them a few decent tugs, but for a guy who was very happy to see me used and abused for his business purposes, he seemed pretty content with just a straight fuck.
He gave them a few good squeezes though, and that was all it took for me. I squealed and made other orgasm-ey sounds as I came, my legs and arms pulling against the ropes. I expected my spasming pussy to push him over the edge, but he just kept thrusting away. He did return to his push-up position, and sped up a little, but it was at least another minute before he quietly growled, and his thrusts got slow and deliberate, each one pumping another jet of cum into my pussy. He let himself collapse onto me and we lay there, each of us coming down from our orgasms.
“Can’t believe how tight your pussy is even after all that stuff Garvey did with those bottles,” he mumbled. His breathing slowed, and for a second I though he was going to fall asleep on top of me, but he only lay there a little longer before suddenly climbing off of me, and out of the bed.
He took the time to untie me before he himself went to wash up. I’d have taken that for a kind gesture from most guys, but for Damon I suspected it was more akin to taking proper care of a valuable horse when returning it to the stables after a good hard ride.
We both got cleaned up and dressed, and he bid me a good night, reminding me to be at the Roped Up booth well before the show floor opened tomorrow morning.
Booth Babe
The trade-show’s exhibition floor didn’t open for another half-hour, but the “Exhibitor”pass that Damon had given me allowed me to get through the door. I walked through the empty aisles, amazed by just how many companies there apparently were that sold rope, and thinking about how quiet it was now, and how bustling it would shortly become. At least, it would if it was anything like the trade shows I’d attended as part of my “day job” at the newspaper.
I made my way over to the surprisingly large Roped Up booth, where I was greeted by Damon and two of his employees. They were setting up things, putting out literature, samples, and various show schwag. I pulled up a chair and watched as they finished their preparations. It was about five minutes before the doors would open and let the attendees pour in when Damon finally turned his attention towards me.
“Alright Tawny, please take off your clothes.”
I’d worn some cute pink shorts, and a sheer tank-top that was easy to get out of, so within seconds I was standing there wearing just my lacy bra, panties, and fuck-me pumps.
Damon looked me up and down, and said, “Very nice. But keep going, please.”
I had assumed I’d be standing around the booth in a bikini, or at a minimum, some revealing lingerie. Heck, maybe even a rope-bra or something. And by “standing around” I meant tied up. But naked?
“Uh, Damon, you can’t have a naked girl in your booth,” I pointed out.
“Au contraire, my dear. Not only can, but will. Since this trade-show is by paid-admittance only, the laws on this island do not consider you to be ‘in public‘, so full nudity is perfectly fine. They only draw the line at actual sexual acts. So no blowjobs, penetration, or even touching.” He made a show of shaking his head sadly, then grinned and added, “At least on the show floor, that is.”
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