This is part 2 of a 2 part story. I would recommend you read part 1 here.
She felt suspended in the moment.
It was inevitable, she supposed, that she would end up here, like this. She felt awkward and tense, like an interloper, a clueless one at that, but she couldn’t deny her arousal.
She wasn’t surprised by these feelings; even her fantasies contained hushed embarrassment and notes of fear. The reality was far sharper, the fear a visceral reaction running through her body.
It was his words that had brought her here.
They had been reassuring, caring, kind enough to dampen the fear and tempting enough for her to release her desire, twisting and turning until it found a way through the tight cords of the knot inside her.
He walked back into the room, the glow from the lamp warming the skin of his gorgeous muscled torso. Loose black trousers fell from lean hips. She liked how he moved – lithe and powerful. Her eyes were quickly tugged and held by the black rope in his hands. It was wound neatly, looked quite utilitarian coiled so carefully, but she felt the weight of it when he dropped it onto the table.
Her skin began to hum in response, hungry to feel the pressure, the tight unyielding hold of it.
“We will begin slowly. Tonight, I will give you a taste of the rope – so you can determine if it’s what you truly want. Remove your clothes. I would prefer you to be naked, but you can leave your underwear on if you need to.”
She did as instructed, needing the final barrier of her underwear to remain. Feeling vulnerable, trying to read his gaze, she wanted to know how he saw her.
“You’re beautiful, Grace – everything I imagined.”
His words stroked her fragile heart, finding the loose ends of the knot, gently rolling the frayed strands. Her arms hanging loosely by her sides, she exhaled: a long, lovely release of tension.
Her heart rate accelerated, a pounding beat that she felt throughout her body. He came towards her, pulling the ends so it unravelled, letting it fall to the floor while he held the ends together. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, desperate to know what it would feel like but fearing it all the same.
“I want you to cross your arms behind your back, your forearms parallel to each other. I’m going to bind them together. The rope will go up your back and around your shoulders, crossing below and above your breasts as well. Ok?”
“Yes.” She replied softly.
Yes! Please do it, I want it, I want to be bound tight, held together with the rope.
Stepping behind her, he waited for her to position her arms correctly. Then she felt him place the rope around her wrists. The initial contact, the roughness of the rope made her jump slightly, even though she was expecting it. She felt so ridiculously gauche – what must he think of her?
“Relax, Grace. Just let yourself be.”
He pressed himself close to her back and wrapped his arms around her. “Breath with me.”
She felt his chest expand and contract, closed her eyes and felt the rhythm of his breathing against her neck. She breathed in when he did, exhaling the same. After a while she found herself drifting, concentrating on the beating of her pulse, the expansion of her lungs instead of his movements.
The rope came up her back from her tied wrists and passed over her arm to loop around the front of her body, moving across the top of her breasts; a straight line that wrapped around her body twice, pinning her arms to her side.
The rope felt like the earth, rough and strong; she could see the strands braided together like vines and wondered how it almost felt alive as it wound around her.
Her body felt light, she thought she might float away until he tugged the rope, tightened a knot, holding her to the ground.
Her breasts thrust out in response as she felt him create a knot in the centre of her back between her shoulder blades, a delicious pressure point against her spine. He passed the rope between her arm and her body, weaving on the loom, in and out, winding and crossing until her arms were completely bound and her breasts were framed by the rope.
Her legs were braced apart, her balance strangely uncertain with her arms bound as they were. She felt his hands leave the rope and stroke over the curve of her hips; sweeping round her body, following the line of her knickers until his fingers dipped into the lace. Down until they wove through her pubic hair, curling and twisting, sliding low to feel her arousal, a slippery warmth – a beacon to be followed.
She held her breath as he rubbed and circled her clit for the first time. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, a moan released from her throat. The elegant line an enticement for his lips and tongue. She closed her eyes, lost in the embrace of the rope, the wet warmth of his tongue on her skin.
“Bend over the table, Grace.”
Turning her face, she laid her hot cheek against the cool, varnished wood; felt his hot hands rip her knickers down until he tapped her ankles to step out of them.
Her breath caught as he kicked her legs wide, leaving her exposed and greedy. His hands squeezed and moved her bottom, pulling her cheeks apart for his mouth. The first soft lap had her flexing her bound hands and pressing her breasts against the table. Her swollen, aching flesh wept.
“Please…” She whispered.
She couldn’t think clearly, but she didn’t need to. The rope held her together, so she could let go of the knot inside her. She felt it unwind with every stroke of his tongue – each dip and push, pull and rise, until it was a loose coil, undone.
She pushed herself towards his mouth, unable to get enough, desperate for more. More tongue, more friction, more pressure. All of it. Every last bit that he could give her.
She needed it – oh god – it had to be now. No more waiting. Please!
She gasped as his mouth left her, moaned as his fingers pushed inside her. He set a demanding rhythm: hard and fast, filling and stretching her tight flesh.
Her nipples rubbed against the table, her arms strained against the rope. She felt the heat start between her legs. His other hand had moved round to rub her clit and she bit down on her lip as the tension built in her body.
On tip toes she reached for it, feeling the orgasm bloom low down in her abdomen.
“It’s there, Grace. Let it go now.”
She cried out in frustration. It was locked tight and she didn’t know how to release it.
Then his open hand came down hard on her bottom; the pain distracted her, the burn entranced her. Again and again he smacked her until the heat on her skin permeated her flesh, down and around, seeping into her pussy and her clit, making her clench tight around his fingers. This only compounded the ache, pushing her over the edge until she felt it burst out of her.
She cried out again, but this time it was an explosion of tension. Her body, held so tight for so long, snapped loose like a taut sail suddenly untied.
She felt the rope in that final moment, holding her wrists, circling her arms, across her chest and she had never felt so free.
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