Tying up Amy
“I’m not so sure about this.”
You smile, looking into her eyes as you continue to gently wind the nylon cord around her slender wrists. She looks so vulnerable, so frail, so perfect. Her hesitation quickens your hunger; you feel it, a rapid flair deep in your belly.
“Sweetheart, just relax.”
Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. You watch the lift and fall of her naked breasts as she breathes, petite sighs of trust and tremor mixed together. You raise her wrists to the headboard.
“Oh.”
It’s barely a word, more of a shuddered gasp or nervouse moan, that escapes her lips as you tie her wrists, there above the carmel tresses of her upswept hair. You tighten the knot you’ve made and she whimpers. It rushes through you again. A roiling quake of lust and desire. You swallow. You want to take her now. No, not yet. You swallow again.
“Does that hurt?”
“No. It’s okay.”
“Spread your legs, Amy. Put your feet out to the edges of the bed,” you say, moving down to the footboard and unfurling a new piece of rope. You watch her legs slowly widen. The flesh at the top of her inner thighs quivers. The lips of her cunt part slightly, and you can see its inner moistness.
“You look so beautiful.”
She doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything, just looks at you from under her thick lashes. Tenderly cupping the heel of her right foot, you begin coiling the white cord around her ankle. The flesh there is pink and taut, hot and dry against your knuckles. As you secure the cord, her calf raises slightly from the bedspread. She is your captive. Knowing this, seeing this, takes your breath away, but you quickly reach for the other foot.
Finally she is stretched before you. White cord binding her porcelain-smooth ankles and wrists, she is a sacrificial goddess, your goddess, your beloved.
“Fuck me.”
“What?”
“I said fuck me. Now that you have me tied up like this, fuck me.”
You hesitate.
“I mean it. Do it.”
This comes out in a rush of words, a sob, as she arches her back and pushes against the cords.
And so you mount your bound goddess.
tom
I do not know who is luckier…her or him!!!
Jacob
I was lucky enough to catch the first version before you changed the ending. And I think the new ending is much better :).
Maybe this is related, maybe it is not: I was at the gym today, using a particular machine. It so happened that there were two young ladies -19 or 20 years old I would guess – doing rhythmic floor exercises in unison. There were both extremely beautiful and petite, and their workout clothes revealed delicate porcelein skin and pink taut flesh (like in Angela’s little vignette) posed in various prostrate positions. Something about witnessing these acts done in parallel unison that makes it exciting to see. They reached out and touched hands delicately while their bodies moved. One of them giggled, pulling away her hand. “I feel like a lesbo.”
Angela St. Lawrence
Tom: Thanks. Jacob: Blogging is getting to be fun…but –because I’m so eager to get it published and because it’s so easy to jump in and edit –I jump the gun now and then. I like the new ending too. And your little adventure at the gym just goes to show you….that sometimes sexiness is something you choose to see. Just like beauty or goodness or whatever. Keep those peepers wide open!