The van rumbled on, minutes stretching out, darkness surrounding Amy. Her attempts to move met with more little clicks, the edges of the cuffs closing in on her wrists and ankles from every side.

My God, Amy thought to herself, this is really happening! Well, not really, but … it’s happening!

Amy’s heart calmed a bit, her own silent reassurances sinking in.

How should I play this? What should I do now?

But with her lips taped and limbs cuffed, Amy realized that really was very little that she could do other than wait and relax and try to get the most out of her experience. As the van drove on, Amy’s mind began to wander.

To make the most of her situation, like her life, to truly make it worthwhile, Amy knew she would have to throw herself into it full-bore. Have to stop thinking so much, Amy told herself, plumb my feelings; don’t think, react, behave.

Enjoy.

Laying on that vibrating van floor, no padding between her and that trembling metal plate beneath her, Amy’s body was humming with the steady vibration. And with her eyes blindfolded and mouth taped, her other senses felt heightened; everything she heard seemed louder, the carpet against her skin was rough and grainy.

And what she was feeling inside was even more exaggerated than what she was feeling outside, and a lot more influential, a mainline from her brains leading straight to her loins.

Enjoy it, the words came back to Amy’s imagination, startling her to sound more like Tia McBride’s voice than her own. Don’t think, feel.

But her brain couldn’t stop, fueled by her body’s increasing reaction to her condition. Her muscles were starting to ache just a bit, her breasts pushed forward by the position. Laying on her side, the feeling of the grainy carpet against the side of her breast was heightened, almost a sensuous burn. Her nipples were hard against her shirt, and a slight shift forward brushed her hard nipples against that rough carpet, only a thin layer of cotton between them. Amy pushed herself forward an inch or two, then slid back, forth and back again to make her nipple prickle with fiction, heat and a slight pain shooting into her breast. It inspired a little whimper, trapped in her tape gag. The sound of her own helplessness only made her feel more inhibited and that, in turn, made her less inhibited. A louder cry, still muffled, made her body jerk forward and back once more, back and forth for that awesome sizzle on her nipple. She wanted to reach around and rub it, pull and pinch and twist it, waving her stiffened fingers just in front of her tit to pummel the nipple with countless strikes per second as she did when she spent those long hours pleasuring herself.

But now she couldn’t even do that, and her breast screamed out for more attention, the static tease too much to ignore but not nearly enough to satisfy.

And all that growing sexual energy would not remain localized. Her crotch was dampening, her tight jeans pressing up into her.

Amy cried out again, tape withholding her plea, and that trapped energy turned back around and fed into her growing and increasingly frustrated sexuality. She kicked her bound legs, feet finding the wall of the van, the sound echoing with a loud thunk.

But this only made her struggle more, and to want to struggle more. The few inches of chain between the cuffs gave her legs enough room to rub against each other, and with just the right shift she could tuck her pants up even higher, tight denim pressing against her aching pussy, thighs rubbing and pressing against each other, pelvis pulling back while she rubbed her tits into the carpet, both nipples hurting to the point of numbness, hard and hot. All that horniness was building up, filling her to the point of overflow. But with her senses robbed of her, there was nowhere for that energy to go but straight back where it came from.

Amy’s pussy was on fire, the center of her body and at that point her mind, her life, her past and her present and her future. And it was aching, trapped, pent up and pinned, just like she was.

Helpless.

And loving it.

Amy pulled again, a desperate urge to be free but not so she could escape. Her fingers reached out from behind her back, craving to dig into her hot pussy, pull around the back of her little mound to her G spot and rub it like her life depended on it.

But she couldn’t, and not being able to was a sensation all its own. It made her even hotter, but that frustration was almost overwhelming, and the idea that she might have to endure it for hours or even days brought a pathetic cry to her gagged lips.

The van kept humming, Amy kept writhing and groaning. The van slowed as it pulled over, finally idling for a moment before rolling forward, turning sharply and pulling to a stop.

The van jostled as Camden climbed into the back of the fan. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but her body stiffened when his big hands landed on her forearms and pulled her back into a seated position in front of him.

“You just relax,” Camden whispered into her ear, “everything’ll be fine. If you make a mistake, you’ll have to pay for it. Are we clear?” His voice rang in the back of her ear and resonated far deeper than that. She nodded, the only response she could offer. And that gave her a charge she wasn’t expecting, a voyeuristic thrill, and it caused her to wriggle in his grip a bit, her labia grinding together with even greater strength and more sparkling inspiration.

She rubbed her thighs, denim stretched tight like a second skin, pushing back against her captor and savoring his strength, a single massive arm holding her to him. While the muttering continued outside the van, Camden lowered his face to Amy’s ear. She knew he was reading her body, sensing her rising lust, and he knew what part he played in its cause. The only question was how much a part he’d play in its release.

And when.

Camden slid his free hand slowly down Amy’s neck, tracing the curves, feeling her muscles clench as she swallowed hard. His hand slid further down to her breasts, his arm holding her torso just beneath them. Camden chuckled into her ear as he delicately flicked her hard nipple, an erect little affirmation of what both of them already knew. A few more flicks and Amy shook her chest, encouraging a hard squeeze, pushing and kneading in a way she’d been yearning for since she was rubbing herself against the van floor, an hour or so before.

Or was it ten minutes? Amy wondered, unable to tell and no longer caring.

He squeezed her other breast, hard and firm, and she shook herself again in a faux rebellion, brows pushed downward as she tried to pull away. He lowered his face into the exposed nape of her neck, surprisingly gentle kisses contrasting with his sturdy grip and firm, squeezing hand. The power of the contrast, and of his hot breath on her neck, send a passionate quake through her, nerves dancing beneath her skin as his free hand traveled further south, down her lean belly and then further than that.

Amy’s pussy had been anticipating this move for hours, days, weeks, and when it happened it came with irresistible force and amazing precision. Camden was just as forceful as he needed to be, knowing the nature of his quarry, its strengths, and delicacies, it's yearning, the keys to its endless satisfaction.

Just his touch was enough to make her body spasm, a slow-simmering orgasm growing to suddenly titanic proportions just behind her trembling mound, ready to break open like a volcano. Camden’s hand remained, rubbing her through the denim, fingers touching her deeper than she’d ever been touched without truly touching her at all. It was sexy, it was sex, yet so much more than either one.

Camden’s massive cock was getting bigger and harder fast, Amy could detect its progress and writhed deliberately into it, wanting to encourage it to full strength, needing to know it better, to know it entirely, to surrender to it, and to its ultimate master. She tried to reach it with her cuffed hands, but it was pressing into her back just out of reach. But Camden sensed her frustration and pressed his hardened erection into her back, rubbing it into the crevice of her spine.

Camden rasped into her ear, “You’re gonna get what you need, Amy, you’re gonna get what you deserve.” He stressed the last word, rubbing her pussy even harder, making her thighs clamp together even tighter. The more she refused him, the more she wanted him, and he was happy to oblige.

Amy’s body shook with the force of her orgasm, clenching her teeth and her legs. Moaning into her taped lips, Camden returned his hand to cover her and silence her orgasmic wail to the point of a tiny squeak, barely escaping and turning them both on even more.

Camden rubbed harder, fostering that percolating orgasm inside her, Amy unable to do anything but lean back hard into his grip, pressing her face into his massive chest, euphoric tears rolling down her face.

“All right,” he said in a calm growl as he stroked her short, blonde hair, “let’s go inside.”