Cannot move

Amy struggles to open her eyes. Everything is too brilliantly bright. She keeps them closed, resolves to wake up properly before trying that again.

Where is she? She tries to recall her last memory. "Oh yeah," she bites her lip, remembering the shower. She had made herself cum over and over, bending this way and that in the large cubicle, till she'd nearly passed out. In fact....

Amy realises that she is lying on something incredibly soft. Luxurious. It must be a bed. But she doesn't remember leaving the shower.

She sighs and whispers to herself, "Fuck me. Must've needed that."

She writhes and bucks her hips, and squeezes the beautiful intruder with her pussy.

The dildo is still inside her.

"MMMmmmmm." Amy leans her head as her back arches. "Oh you dirty little slut Amy."

Her nipples harden. Her breath becomes short. Her hand goes to rub her excited clit.

But she can't. They won't budge.

Her arms feel numb; heavy yet entirely weightless.

Amy looks down, and manages to open her eyes. She can just see the end of last night's lover protruding from her pulsing, reddened love cave. She shudders and squeezes around it again. Closes her eyes in pleasure. This feels so good! No, what's happened to her arms?

Looking round, her arms are above her head, spread-eagle style, towards the headboard. But they don't seem to be attached to anything. She tries to move them again. Nothing. Panic is setting in.

"Yes you are, Amy, aren't you."

Amy's body stiffens. The colours drains from her face. Her pussy still tries to squeeze and squirm in pleasure despite herself.

How could she not expect something like this.

It's Sam. But not the erratic Sam from the night before. This Sam is slow, calculating. No less gentile, but very deliberate.

"Wha..hu...wh..."

"A little slut, I mean. A dirty little slut."