“Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in?” ― Richard Siken, Crush.
rope marks
It’s been far too long since I’ve been deeply, deeply rope happy.
Full Service, Part Six
What happened next is a bit blurry. I had gotten really subspaced and, as a result, had a lot of trouble keeping track of things. According to Craftsmate, later that evening, when I thought I had been saying things to him in complete sentences, I was actually only saying one or two words.
This is where I stress how important it is to be with someone you really trust when you get that deep. I am serious here. Don’t go trusting the good stuff with the people who don’t deserve it.
I had been resisting letting myself get that deep with him because of an experience in the past with someone else I used to be with. Basically, he pushed me super deep, I figured I could trust him, and he took advantage and did some stuff that was really not okay.
But, this time was really amazing and I feel good about letting go. He didn’t betray my trust and he checked in with me a lot.
At some point, I wound up on my back again. I remember he kept making me hold the vibrator between my thighs in order to have it on my clit and I would wind up squirming, making the vibrator fall off. Then I would have to shuffle around and try to push the vibrator up towards one of my hands with my knee. When the clamps became too much, I whined that I needed them off and he removed them for me.
For all the haziness, I remember distinctly how badly I needed him to fuck me and how much I pleaded.
“I want your cock,” I begged, grinding up against the vibrator between my legs, “please, Sir, I want your cock so bad.”
Craftsmate laughed and pushed some of my hair from my face. “Awww, baby, now you want my cock? First you wanted the vibrator and now you want this, too? Remember how badly you wanted it?”
He reached down and turned the vibrator off, prompting me to squeal in frustration.
With the rope marks on her breasts implying she’s probably been tied up in another position recently, coupled with the growing fear in her eyes and the way he’s grabbing her, I’d have to say this is just the right amount of scary.
I have little addictive tendencies. I’ll get hooked onto the strangest things and just crave it endlessly afterwards. I’ll pine after it and hold out for the next time I get to try.
Ever since my recent first experience with rope and the gorgeousness that is a rope mark, I’ve been longing for that sensation again.
Hopefully, I won’t have to hold out for too painfully long.
Craftsmate just informed me that the correct term for what I was experiencing is being “rope happy”, not subspaced.
What. Ever.
(via art-or-porn)
Like a Brisket, Part Six
We arrived back to the apartment, let Craftsmate out and sat down with a few drinks to get to know each other. It was a little awkward at first, but eventually we settled into a groove of telling each other how we’d figured out we were kinky.
I was about halfway through my story when Penthouse got up from the couch and walked over to the table. He picked up one of the crocheted lengths of rope and started unwinding it without introduction.
I cocked a brow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m tying you up,” he replied nonchalantly, moving back to the couch with the rope.
I laughed, “oh. Okay.” I set my drink down. “Good to know.”
I continued trying to tell my story as Penthouse was tying me up, but by the time we got to The Prodigy, all hope of normal conversation had sort of vanished. Instead, Penthouse was just talking through the harness he was putting me in that, unlike the knot he had tied before, was basically impossible to get out of. And, by pulling on this somewhat awkwardly applied rope between my breasts, Penthouse could essentially drag me around the room with ease. It was a pretty interesting introduction to being tied up with rope, but I had to admit the harness was sort of pretty and I was impressed that no amount of wriggling could get this thing loose.
He tied the excess rope off to the leg of the couch, limiting my range of motion to about two feet in any direction. While I tried to persuade Craftsmate to itch the tip of my nose, Penthouse offered to show The Prodigy a different kind of harness.