Perspective.

Her thighs were beginning to quiver. The goosebumps spread down down her upper arms. She could feel his hands rubbing slowly over her lower stomach. Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open. She couldn't even make a sound. The feeling was ... Her brain couldn't process anything else. Her back was arched and her ties pointed. He certainly knew what he was doing down there. 

"Just a bit more" he kept saying. She could feel the wetness running down her thighs. Her skin shone, glazed by a layer of sweat.

 "Almost there", she called out, her voice a husky whisper. She could feel the bulge moving deep in her. Slowly. 

Then the head was at her opening and the sensation heightened. She grabbed hold of something. Anything. Her innards leaking fluid and tightening. 

"A bit more!", she proclaimed. Her legs wide open. The feeling sunk from her lower belly down to her womanhood and then ....

The cry. The sharp sweet cry of a newborn. She lapsed into the hospital bed as the midwife held on to the baby. Emotions flooded. Relief. Tiredness. Joy. 

"Let me hold him" she pleaded with the doctor, her ordeal finally over.