Many apologies for the radio silence. There’s been very little action at my end although I have another post in the works. Tonight’s post is another short story – the product of going months without being tied up and fucked. It’s a mixture of fantasy and reality. Enjoy!
You enter his bedroom and stand at the door. He’s on his computer and his back is facing you.
You half whisper a “hello” and he swivels around in the computer change. He doesn’t say a word, but looks at your for a couple of seconds, his face blank. There is a feeling of dread in your stomach – is he angry at you for some unknown reason?
And then he speaks: “Stand there,” pointing at a spot in front of him in the middle of the room, “and strip.”
You silently breath a sigh of relief and make your way forward into the room. You drop your bag at the foot of the bed, slip off your shoes and make your way to your appointed spot in front of him. He looks at you as you take your clothes off – tee shirt first, which you unceremoniously fling behind you, followed by your jeans which slip down easily. You bend down to pull off the stripy, odd socks you rushed to put on that morning and ball them up. They join the pile of clothing behind you.
He looks you up and down as you stand there, shivering slightly in the cold room, clad in underwear which doesn’t match. He stands up and you look up at him, feeling the warmth emanating from his clothed being. “And the underwear.” He says quietly, moving away from you and towards the bed. You unsnap your bra first, dropping it at your feet, and then your knickers.
He removes a coil of rope from it’s hook on the wall and the feeling of dread you had earlier is replaced by excitement.
He comes back to stand in front of you and begins to uncoil the rope. “Hair up.” He commands.
You grasp your hair in your hands and hold it up so he can bring the rope around your neck and down to your breasts. It feels smooth as it snakes around you. You gasp for breath as it begins to tighten around your chest. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every knot. It snakes down between your legs, resting on your cunt lips. He forces your hands behind your back and binds them to the chest harness.
And then he turns you around to see yourself in the mirror. Cheeks flushed, breasts forced outwards by your posture and the tightness of the rope around them and he is stood next to you, in his jeans and a tee shirt, his hair tied behind him and hanging down his back. It is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
He leads you to the bed. You kneel in the middle of it and he helps you lie stomach down, head resting on a pillow. You close your eyes in eager anticipation. There is the sound of various implements being removed from their spots on the wall.
And then the first strike.