Her wrists get tied together, as do her ankles. My rope is old now, which sets off complicated feelings. Eight years since I got the tan hemp and it still has the same smell, though now it is worlds softer.
I don’t remember when it started feeling so comfortable in my hands, but I like it. I know the right knots. Maybe not the perfect knots, but ones I can tie fast and pretty and strong.
Some people need tight intricate ties or they will squirm out, but no her. She is the kind of girl who wouldn’t dream of escape. She is the kind of girl that sits and stays when told.
She gets shoved down on the bed with three pillows under her belly. This pushes her ass up high and puts her face down into the mattress.
It is a position I’ve put a lot of other people in, but every time and every person feels so new and electric.
All that pretty skin exposed. Red lines across her back where I scratched her while we made out. Her hips turning a little with want.
I pull her up by her hair for a moment. Her cheeks are bright red, her lipstick smudged across her face, her eyes open but unfocused. The drugs of need and sub space. That trance rope puts some people in.
She is sweet and beautiful. Very ready. There is something wonderful about turning someone so smart dumb with lust. She is panting like an animal.
I put one hand on the back of her neck, holding her in place, and put my other hand between her legs.
I want her to realize how wet she is. I want her to think about how fucked up she is for getting so turned on by this.
Another complicated thing is how I don’t get hard until I hit her for the first time.
