Death of the hero

“In one minute, stand back up.” She began counting her breaths, in for one second, out, repeat. She drew in thirty breaths and exhaled thirty times, then f***ed herself to her feet. She stood fully up right now, the chains at her wrists becoming slack. “You have submitted. There will be no more need for these.” He said, unbinding her wrists. “Unbind your legs and assume the position on the wall.” She crouched down and quickly undid the straps around her ankles. She walked forward towards the wall, stopping about two feet away, and leaning towards it, putting her hands against it above her head. She spread her legs slightly more than shoulder width apart. He came up behind her, his cock still hanging out and rock hard. Reaching around her, he grabbed the zipper of her suit and pulled it down. Her breasts spilled out and she yearned for him to play with them, but she said nothing and continued staring at the wall. As he released her zipper he plunged his hands into her suit, between her legs. His middle and forefinger found her slit. She felt a twinge of excitement as they entered her, but he immediately pulled them out, holding them up in front of her face. “I see you’re already ready for me.” He said as they glistened in the light. “Clean them.” She opened her mouth and sucked her juices off of his fingers. “Arms back.” She removed her hands from the wall, holding them behind her at her waist. He grabbed her suit and pulled it down. It freely slid down her back and arms until it was completely free from her body above the waist. He pulled again, in a more downward motion, forcing the suit to bunch against her thighs, where her spreading legs wouldn’t allow it to travel any further down. It was enough for him to have access to her though, and that was all that mattered.