Ties That Bind Ch. 2

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Chapter Two: Interlude

ties that bind us erotic story

My mask was pulled tight, and my vision was cut off. I laid on the bed. My heart starts racing and the bed begins to move. My lovely four-poster carriage, which is beautiful and elegant, is being wheeled someplace.

A tiny ray of sunlight peeks through the leather cover that blocks my eyesight. I lick each other’s lips. It’s colder, wherever we are. When the cold breeze blows across my body, my skin becomes hardened and my nipples get sore.

Somewhere I hear an announcer type voice call out, “Number Five is presented to you as one of your Offerings.”

It is overwhelming emotion. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all my adult kink life. Since I was a child, I have been craving something more. Something deeper, darker and scarier. I wanted to push myself and, most importantly, I wanted to be a plaything. 

Over the years, I served many Dominant men in my community. Each has taught me more about myself and how to serve. Their training and the friendships I’ve had are a blessing. All of this has prepared me to do what I do now.

“Five. “Five. Accepting this session, simply nod and then snap your fingers two times. If you wish to withdraw your consent or stop, merely speak and we will end the scene.”

I take a deep breath, and then snap my fingers.

Multipliple hands are necessary before I can process the events. Some are gentle, with nimble hands and sharp nails that glide over my sensitive skin.  Others are more rough and calloused and hold me in place while I surrender to their power. 

I want to scream, these sensations have been building for so many years and have now crashed into my body like a truck. They are desperate for a release.

They said they would be quiet.

They said I wasn’t to make a single sound.

I am a good girl.

So I let out a groan of joy and tried to obey.

I can’t tell how many people are watching me as I struggle to control my aching body. I could be sitting in a small room with only a few people or I could be standing on stage.

My senses are awakened by a sharp blast of cold wind. The hands on my body continue to caress and hold me, but there’s something else touching me now. It’s rough and fibrous, scraping along my skin. As the sensation becomes more familiar, my senses are triggered. All parts of me want to shout joy and wild abandon.

It’s a feeling I could have anywhere. It’s the feeling of a hank of rope being dragged across your skin. Rope bondage is the perfect partner for me if submission is my passion. From the texture, my guess is that it’s jute. My body vibrates with excitement and I grind my teeth to stop any sound of pleasure from leaving my ears.

My body moves at will when my hands move. Bending and holding me, the rough rope moves along my skin. My robe is being torn and my skin is exposed. I am now leaned against a warm chest. I feel my arms being placed behind me, and ropes are being stretched across my upper arms.  I’ve spent enough time rope-waving to be aware that I’m being put into a harness. takate-kote Or box tie. Shortly, my rigger holds my hands. I know instinctively to squeeze them.

“Good girl, Five. I believe we will hang your from the ceiling. Nod once if you can hold a futo.” The whisper in my ear fills me with pleasure and I straighten up, proud of my performance so far, and nod.

Never could I have imagined I would end up as an Offering in rope. Slowly I am pushed over into a kneel, my face crashing into someone’s lap, my ass in the air. My hair is brushed by soft hands.

“You are such a good girl, Five.” A different voice this time, a softer and more feminine voice, is next to me. A fluttering kiss is pressed upon my temple and I can’t help but arch myself like a cat, eager to press my body into the welcome embrace.

Before more sweet kisses and pets can be given, I feel the rope begin to rub against my leg. Slowly, someone slowly lifts my left foot and bends it. He touches my toes until they reach my butt. Many hands reach out to me to support me as he wraps my leg and pushes me forward. The rope wraps around my leg and tightens as he goes. Spiral futomomo. They take their sweet time here, gently pulling on the frictions and using firm hand pressure to adjust his lines. There I am, lying on my back, on the bed. My leg trussed up, my arms bound behind my back, my face shielded by a mask, and my ass in the air–still holding the enormous butt plug they insisted I wear.

My body is never still when their hands touch it. It’s a sensation overload as they caress me and hold me. My senses are overwhelmed by the rich textures of leather, silk sheets and rope. My arousal can be almost painful. I grind my teeth determined to not cry out. As another line is added, I feel the tension lines getting checked. One hand grasps my brown hair and pulls it back. This is enough to get my attention, but nothing that can really hurt. My hair is tied and the rope is pulled tight on my other ankle. It’s a strange sort of discomfort but it’s one that I welcome with everything in my being. 

The air is scented with cinnamon, rope, and candle wax.

My body feels flooded with sensations of joy.

My lip bleeds when I bite it, determined not too cry.

I am a good girl.

I do as I’m told.

They instructed me to remain quiet. 

“Steady, Five. It’s time to fly.”

I relax my body into these ropes, bracing myself as best as I can. Slowing down and settling into a calm state, my breathing slows.  I grit my teeth and resist the urge to cry out when he pulls me up by my leg. As another line pulls on my torso, the hands that are holding me up gently hold it up. They pull me in an inch by inch and I feel myself lengthening and pulled. I leave the safety of the bed and fly into my suspension. My single futo knee is higher than the rest of mine as I flounder, trying not to struggle. Blindfolded, it is both attractive and terrifying. I sink into the ropes and feel every ounce of my body weight held in place by the knots.

“Good girl, Five. You’re an accomplished rope bottom in your own right.” Yet another voice calls out to me and I cherish the praise.

I hear a faint buzzing sound in my ears. I slowly turn my head, trying to figure out what it is. Before I can lock onto the sound, something coldly and wet was slapped onto my pussy. A small mewl escapes my lips as I struggle to regain control and not flail–and thus tighten my ropes even more. A feeling of failure quickly descends on me, and I fear disappointing the Collective and not being able play anymore makes me weep. 

“Quiet, Five!” A sharp rebuke came, followed by a slightly harder slap on my ass. The vibrations caused me to clench and my butt plug to grow more painful. However, I feel relieved when my hands continue to move across my aching body. There’s the soft tickling caress of a feather or something soft, and the ominous prick of something sharp, cold and metal. As the sensations intensify, my body struggles with staying in a meditative mode. As I lay on the ground, bound and suspended from the floor, the buzzing noise intensifies. I can feel the toys coming out by the sharp pinching of each of my nipples. I move a little, feeling the pressure shift as the chain and clamps that I now wear shift. 

My thighs are being inspected by my hands. I stop to adjust my butt plug, and then run a soft hand across my clit. I quaver when someone gently blows on my aroused skin, causing it to squirm further into my binding. Every time I suspend myself in this room, a different sensation hits, intensifying my experience.

The constant buzzing keeps growing louder, and I feel anxious when a deep chuckle comes close to my ear.

Before I can comprehend what is so hilarious. 

Before I can say that the buzzing sounds just like my own wand vibrator.

Before I can even comprehend what is happening, it feels like it.

My clit was affected by the powerful, pulsating vibration of a vibrator.

I feel so happy that even though I am wearing a blindfold, I can still see the bright stars behind me. 

I gasped, stepping into the ropes, and enjoying the intoxicating mixture of pain, pleasure, and sensory deprivation. 

“Sweet Five, how quickly you come! We’re just getting started, I do hope you aren’t worn out already.”

Before I can say that I’m ready for more, or for whatever the night demands, I feel the rustle and pull of a crotch cord around me. I can feel the vibrator’s buzzing coming nearer as it is fastened to my mound, where it can torture me all night.

I swallow. This is what it means being an Offering.


***

My aching legs and arms are untied as I return to my bed. As I wait for the next chapter, soft lined leather cuffs keep my wrists and ankles in a spreadeagle posture.

“You have beautiful tits, Five. I bet they will be even more beautiful when I am done decorating them.”

I am startled by the light, feminine voice that is near my ear. I do manage to smile as I try and imagine what my chest will look like.

“Your skin can wear blue and red so well. Perhaps we will have to start there.”

My nipple feels very hot and I start to squeak. It feels like a pinprick, but soon it fades away and I feel something sticking to my skin.

Wax.

She is dripping hot wax over me.

“Too hot, Five? Nod your head yes or no.”

I shrug my shoulders and eat my lip.

“Excellent. We will continue.”

The wax falls faster and drops all over me as she moves around on the bed. It doesn’t burn anymore, but it feels strangely warm and warm, like a layer of wax spreading across my skin. The temperature changes as each drop shifts from  hot wax to drying wax, and finally the cool wax that makes my nipples ache with need.

“Good Girl, Five. Your tits have such beauty. I think I might just leave this candle here.”

As a steady stream o whey flows between my breasts, I feel it freeze. The firm base of a candle also settles between them. I am wary of burning, but the heat from the flame keeps me warm.

“Show us just how still you can be, Five. And maybe you will be rewarded beyond your wildest imagination.” 

I take a deep inhale and vow to be as still as possible in order to please The Collective. This is  my moment. I collapse into my cuffs, taking in the steady drip of wax from my breasts.

I won’t let you down.

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