Actually...

“Hm, now that I think about it...” Sabrina mutters aloud before you can say anything, not that you could with her socks jammed in your mouth.

She snaps her fingers, and out from her closet come a pair of black thigh high socks. They quickly wrap around your head, tying in the back, acting as a sort of blindfold.

You’re left without sight, your other senses enhanced. You squeal, in anticipation? Fear? Maybe perhaps both? Not that it matters to Sabrina. She’s in control now, not you. She makes that very clear as she lies atop you, pressing her body into yours, face inches from yours. Her feet brush against your own, and you moan.

You want Sabrina to continue, and yet you also fear what may happen if she does, but you also _need _her to proceed.