She’d set me before a floor length mirror so that I could watch her work. It was fascinating in its way. The blue strands of rope contrasted nicely against my exposed flesh. She’d positioned me so that I sat on my heels, my knees spread wide, wider, wider, until muscles strained with the effort.
She started with my thighs, attaching them to my calves, the rope forming figure eights, pressing the upper and lower halves of my legs together tightly, pressing into my skin uncomfortably. There was perfect symmetry, both legs wrapped in the same exact spot, the ropes snug against each other so that nothing showed between.
“Hands behind your back, honey.”
I purred. It was a word she only used when she was well pleased with me.
I watched as she crouched behind me, arranging my arms so that my wrists were crossed, palms out, before securing them together. Tempted as I was to sneak a quick peek, I knew better. Instead I concentrated on my image, the way my chest moved in and out, making my breasts rise, my arousal palpable. Drool slowly made its way down my chin, my mouth forced open by a rubber coated ring that was buckled in tightly. While I could still make sounds, speech itself had been denied me.
While I couldn’t see, I could certainly feel as she bound my hands, passing rope between each finger, then each toe, until my hands were connected to my feet, both now completely immobile. She ticked my soles, and I let out a scream, jerking despite my best efforts to remain still.
With an amused laugh, she smacked my bottom.
“Be still or I’ll send you home.”
I froze, panting softly, my eyes squeezed closed as I endured her playful nails on the sensitive bottoms of my feet until, mercifully, she stopped.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No, Mistress,” I lied, or at least that’s what I meant to say. It came out a garbled mess as more drool trickled down my chin and onto my left tit.
She kissed the back of my head fondly before securing my forearms together with more careful figure eights, taking her time, achieving the perfection she always strove for, before moving on to my biceps. When she was finished, my shoulders were bowed uncomfortably back and she began to circle me, pausing often, as if to appraise her handiwork.
“You look amazing.”
She chuckled, patting my cheek tenderly.
The waist cinch came next. Six lengths wrapped around my waist, every other one threaded through the ties binding my wrists together.
“Breath in. Deep. And hold it. Just like that. Suck in your tummy, honey.”
She took the opportunity to cinch them even tighter so that when she did, eventually, tell me to let out my breath, they bit uncomfortably into my flesh.
“Again. Fill up your lungs and then let it all go.”
This after wrapping my upper torso in a similar fashion. She waited until I’d deflated my chest completely to do away with what little slack she had left, knotting it securely. I began to grow nervous as I realized that my breathing was somewhat restrictive and thought I should mention it, just in case…
“Haw ta bwee, Miwhi.”
“That’s the point, pet.”
I didn’t have an answer for that, deciding to trust her. Not that I had a choice. Watching her work, she seemed unconcerned and was obviously enjoying herself. I did my best to relax, concentrating on my reflection. My body seemed to be enjoying itself, despite my misgivings. My nipples were rock hard and my pussy was leaking, after all.
She sat down before me, humming as she tied a series of knots in a length of rope.
“This one's for between your legs, Rachel. It will help take your worries away.”
She was right. After she’d secured both ends to the waist cinch so that it divided my ass cheeks and the knotted section parted my labia and rested upon my ecstatic clit I began finding it difficult to concentrate, especially when I discovered that breathing in as hard as I could, pushing my belly out, shifted the rope just enough to rub against that sensitive nub of flesh. Not enough to get me off, no matter how hard I tried, I thought, but enough to push me in the right direction. I quickly came to the decision that it was cruel. I’d be edging myself with no promise of relief, fighting for each breath to push me over the edge, the cinches too restricting to let me achieve my goal.
“One more tie, I think.”
If I’d known, I am not sure I’d have put myself in this position. She braided rope into my hair, until it was impossible to tell which was which. That wasn’t so bad. She’d done it in the past, using it to help secure a hogtie, forcing my head up so that my mouth was available for whatever use she wished.
“Trust me. I won’t let any harm come, baby girl.”
She used those words to calm me as she circled my throat twice with rope, feeding the ends through a ring. She then pulled my head all the way back so that I was staring at the ceiling. Her fingers stroking tenderly over my scalp kept me from panicking. Barely. Feeding the end beneath the rope binding my forearms and again, beneath the ones around my chest, she secured it to her final tie. I was trembling uncontrollably as I realized that tilting my head forward, even the slightest, would cut off my air flow.
“I’d suggest trying not to come,” she chuckled as she carefully pulled the crotch rope aside and pushed a small vibrating egg into my dripping wet cunt before taking a seat to one side of the mirror so that she could enjoy the show, her thumb hovering teasingly over the ‘on’ button.
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