Red Rope

Mmm. I can feel you in my mouth. I love it when you wrap your fingers in my long, blonde hair and fuck my mouth like this. I love the taste of your skin, the silken hardness of your hot cock filling my mouth, my throat. I want to bring you so much pleasure. I want to swallow you and drink every last drop of you. I want you to fill me, use me, fuck me. I want… I want…



The sound of your key in the lock shakes me from my fantasy. You're home.

As the door starts to open, I quickly take off my black panties and drop to the floor in our position. I kneel down, not looking at you. I hear you put down your case and slowly close the door. This is what you requested when you called 15 minutes ago. That I be ready for you. I am. I am so ready for you. You are my Master. That makes me incredibly hot — that you own me. You are my guide, my teacher, my Master. I am ready.

All I see is your shadow moving across the carpet. All I feel is the roughness of the carpet against my hard nipples and my cheek. The roughness is like an exquisite torture on my skin. My skin wants to be touched, but that comes later. I hope it comes later. Now, I want to hold my breath, but I'm breathing too fast. My nerves are screaming. I bend farther down and wait. I wait.

Slowly, your shadow circles me. You walk around me, examining me. The blood rushes to my face. I am yours now. I am your slut. I am your whore, your fuck toy. I feel flushed with blood and I smell my own desire.

You stop in front of me. I reach out to kiss your feet, to lick your black leather shoes, but you step back. "No," you say, firmly. "Put your head down until I tell you to move." I do. My knees chafe on the rough carpet as I lower myself again. I'm trembling. Did I displease you? Wasn't that OK?

Then I hear you say, "Show me. Show me that you're ready for me."

So I present myself to you. Gladly, I put more weight on my chest and shoulders so that I can reach my arms back. With my hands, I spread my ass cheeks wide for you. I arch my back to tip my ass and pussy toward your gaze, opening for you like a flower. Proudly, I show you my tight asshole and my dripping pussy. I feel my asshole clinch, release. Are you looking? Do you like what you see? Do you approve, Master? My pussy trembles. I know you are able to see my arousal. The deep pink lips of my pussy are thick with blood. My fingers edge between my legs and spread the lips apart. Does the light from the window catch the wetness. Can you see how wet I am? I moan. You have full access to all of me. You know that. I am yours to take at your whim. I am so afraid that I will not be good enough for you, that you will find me lacking in some way. I know you are looking at me as I kneel here on the floor at your feet, naked and spread wide. No one has ever inspected me to this degree before. This is my gift to you. I am a gift. I am well and truly yours.

You kneel behind me. I feel your fingers slide deep inside me and I am overjoyed! I must be worthy of your attention, for now you are fucking my pussy so hard with your fingers. So hard, so deep. I can hear the slurping sound of your fingers, slick from my juices, thrusting, twisting in and out of me. The texture of your fingers—- first two, then three—- is indescribable, so strong and hard, filling me, fucking me, opening me…


My orgasm is building, rushing at me. But you feel it, too. You know my body so well that you know exactly where I am —- and you're not ready to give that orgasm to me. I hear you whisper, "Not yet, little girl. I'm not done with you yet." My excitement reaches fever pitch when you whisper that to me, and I am sure that I won't be able to hold back… but just then, right when I am on the verge of coming, you pull your fingers out of my dripping cunt.

No! I squeal in protest, empty… My ass and pussy are open and pushing back toward you, needing to feel you inside me again. The air feels cold. My pussy is swollen with blood and yet the skin is so cold on the outside where my juices are evaporating from my lips. I arch my back, lifting my ass further toward you, begging you for release. I think to myself, "Please, Master! Please fuck me! Make me yours! Please, please fuck me!" But I know not to complain, not to beg. But I can't help myself. "Please?" But you don't hear me. You're no longer there. You've gotten up and left the room.

I want to touch myself. I need to touch myself, to sink my fingers inside me, twiddle my clit, and finish what you started. But I know I can't. That would displease you. You use me for your pleasure and give me pleasure in return. I am yours. All of me is yours to use for your pleasure. I can't do it for myself unless that will please you. But it is so hard to wait, feeling my pussy throb, my nipples tingle as they rub against the carpet. I want to touch myself… but I will not. I will not. I will not. Where are you?

Sounds from the other room are muffled, almost as if my hearing has given up half its strength to my legs so that they can keep me kneeling. It seems like forever before you come back. I've turned my head toward the bedroom, my cheek still pressed to the carpet, so that I can see you coming. I don't look up, but I can see the bottom parts of you — your strong lower legs sticking out from beneath your robe, your bare feet coming toward me. Oh, Master! Trailing behind you, are the ends of our red nylon ropes.

You drop the pieces of rope onto the carpet, inches from my face. I love these ropes! I love the feel of them tied around my wrists, my ankles, my breasts. I love the smell of them. I suppose they don't really have a smell. But I imagine all of the things we have done that they witnessed, things that they could smell of if memory had smell. I love their red color, the visual texture of their intertwining threads and cords. But most of all, I love what they mean to me, to us. You had me buy this rope and bring it home to you. I knelt naked before you that night for the first time, presented you with the rope, made presents to you of the rope and my body, and agreed to be yours completely. You tied me up for the first time that night, with these very ropes, cut from that first rope I bought with care. You made me yours and yours I remain.

I hear the sounds of you moving furniture. I think you are dragging the couch and tables over to the side of the room. I think I hear you picking up, putting down a chair, though I'm not sure where. I'm impatient, but I do not move. The red of the ropes dazzles my eyes and my pussy contracts again and again. I need you in me. But I need to please you even more.

"Are you ready?" You are standing in front of me now. Your foot is just beyond the rope.

"Yes, I am ready." I say this into the carpet and bite my lower lip.

"You may stand up." Your voice is firm.

I start to get up. I am a bit wobbly, but you offer your arm to steady me. I glance at your face for just a second— just long enough to see your soft grey eyes, your lips. But I quickly look away. Before I look down, I see that you the center of the room is empty except for one chair. I look down. I stand before you with my legs together, my head down, my hands clenched in loose fists and my wrists pressed together, ready to be tied if that is what you desire.

"Come," you say, taking one of my wrists in your strong grip and leading me over to the chair. "Stand here."

You position me behind the chair, facing the back such that my belly is pressed up against the upholstery. You have tied me to this chair before, but always sitting on it or in front of it. Never in back. I'll have to lean forward, over the back, to get my arms closer to the chair's wooden arms. It's an old chair, but solid. Its legs are thick and spread out wide, so it is almost impossible to tip it over. And its back is thick and padded. I'm breathing faster just thinking about it. It will be like flying.

You are standing beside me. I see your blue robe out of the corner of my eye. I look down at my hands, which are resting on the back of the chair. My nipples are so hard you could cut glass with them. You must have seen that, too. You lean forward and take the closest nipple between your warm lips. Your tongue flicks at it. I gasp. You pull back and kiss my breast gently… then suck some skin into your mouth and bite. My back arches, but I don't make a sound. When you stand up, I see the red mark on my breast where your teeth have been. It stings, but I feel warmth spreading from it all over my chest, my arms, my face.

Slowly, you pull my hair back, exposing my shoulder, my neck, my ear. Your voice is like the red ropes. You speak close to my ear, soft but serious, loving but stern. "Do as you are told. Please me and you please yourself." I know what you mean. I understand. "Now, up on your toes and lean forward." You step behind me as I stand on my tiptoes, place your hands on my sides and, with smooth effortless strength, lift me several inches more and place me down, folded in a jacknife position over the chair back. My toes don't touch the floor. I grab the chair arms to keep from sliding either forward or back off the chair back.

In front of the chair now, you line up my left arm with the arm of the chair and lash them together with one of the red ropes. Knot, wind and wrap, knot. My hand is free to grip, to flex, but my forearm is bound tightly to the chair from my wrist to just short of my elbow. You methodically repeat the process with my other arm. I see your cock peeking from the gap in your robe. The head is full, purple with blood. I want it in me so badly… in my mouth, my pussy, buried in my ass. I don't care. I need that cock, your cock.

You walk around behind the chair and again I feel your strong hands gripping my sides. You pull be backwards, sliding me back off the chair a few inches, slide me back until I can just feel my toes start to touch the floor, but not quite. My weight is partly supported by the chair back. But now most of my weight is being supported by my arms, tied to the chair. I am hanging from the arms, draped over the chair back. The chair holds. "Good ol' chair," I think, as I grip the chair arms, hovering, suspended, waiting.

"This is a lovely sight," you say, rubbing your hand over my naked ass. Whap! I cry out from the sudden pain of your bare hand smacking my bare skin. Whap! I bite my lip, trying not to cry out this time. Again, your hand rubs my ass where you've just spanked. The skin feels warm and tingly. Your palm feels smooth.

"Are you still ready for me?" I hear you say. Whap! Again, you spank me, harder this time. "Yes, Master! I'm ready!" "Well, I should be the judge of that, shouldn't I?" suddenly slipping your fingers again into my pussy. Oh, yes. I'm still ready. If you'll just leave those fingers in there just a little longer, fuck me with those fingers just a little… But no. You don't. Just as my orgasm is hurtling toward me like an incoming meteor, you take them out yet again. I feel you wiping your fingers on my ass, feel my juices evaporating on the warm, spanked skin. My ass must be pink and shiny. I wish I could see my ass. I wish I could see me suspended here, bound for you, being fucked by you. You will fuck me, won't you? My pussy contracts, hopeful.

I hear your voice, still behind me. "Are you my fuck slut?" "Yes! I am your fuck slut!" "Good," you say. I feel something larger than a finger press against my pussy, briefly slide between my swollen labia, and then begin to push inside me. It's not your cock, but it's like one. A dildo. Deeper and deeper, it enters and fills me.

"Here is the game we are going to play. You are not to come. And no matter what I do, you must not let this dildo slip out of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." My pussy contracts on the dildo, testing whether I can hold it in, testing whether contracting on it might push it out. I'm afraid that if I contract too much, I'll make myself come. And that will displease you. Too little and…

While I've been thinking of gripping silicone, you have walked around to the front of the chair. I lift my head up and watch you undo the tie of your robe. I love your cock. It is inches from my face, hard and throbbing with your pulse. It's an average length, thick, well-proportioned. The veins show, but not too much. And the skin is so soft, so nice to touch, to lick, to suck.

I'm thinking that I can't keep my head up in this position for long. My neck is tiring already. But then, you step forward and lace your fingers in my hair and grab tight, pulling my head back up. I open my mouth and you stick your cock inside. I close my lips around the shaft, feel the surface of it with my tongue. Mmm. It's everything I fantasized before, everything I already know from many times before. You begin to fuck my mouth. I can't move on my own, so you thrust slightly with your hips and move my head back and forth using my hair as a handle. I look up at you and see the pleasure on your face. I begin to lose myself in the feeling of your cock sliding through my lips, over my tongue, the head slipping back into my throat. Deep thrusts, with you moving my head forward and back. I want to feel your hot come in my throat. I want…

THUMP

Oh, no! Dammit! DAMMIT! The dildo slipped out. I forgot about it… didn't hold on… and it slipped out.

You pull your cock out of my mouth and let go of my hair, letting my head drop limply back down toward the chair seat. "You were doing so well, too." And with that, you walk away. You leave the room! Oh, god. You've left the room. Come back! I feel so empty. So empty…

I don't know how long you stay out of the room. But after the longest time, you slowly walk back in. You stand in front of the chair and I hear you say, "I have to say I'm disappointed in you." I don't look up. You sit down on the chair, with your back pressed against my head. Your hands rest on my hands; your forearms rest on my tightly bound forearms. "Please," I say, "let me try again."

"Hush."

After the longest time you get up, walk around behind the chair, and pick up the dildo. "We are going to try this again." You slip the dildo back inside me and I grip it tight. Not again. I won't let it fall this time.

This time, your grip on my hair is even tighter. You've wrapped my long hair around your hand. It hurts, but I don't care. My mouth is full. My pussy is full. Your cock has lost some of its hardness, but that quickly returns as it moves back and forth in my mouth. I'm surrendering. I no longer even try to move my head, to keep it up. I let my neck muscles go completely and let you have my head to move as you wish. Keep my lips over my teeth, keep that dildo in, and breathe. That's all my conscious self needs to do. And when that gets to be too much, I stop breathing. I can still feel. My toes graze the floor and my fingers unclench and grip the chair arm again. I feel so much. All I have to do is feel.

Faster and faster, you fuck my face, filling my mouth and throat with hot smooth skin. And then…a pause… and I know! I look up at you, so that I can watch you come. Our eyes lock. The first hot spurt hits the back of my throat and I moan with contentment. Another and another. I am yours. Your slut, your slave. I swallow, but more fills my mouth. You pull out and the last bit slops onto my upper lip. I lick it off, happy… but not showing it. Not yet.

You unwrap your hand from my hair and gently let my head down. Your hand trails over my back as you slowly walk behind me, behind the chair.

"That was very good, my dear girl. I am pleased." I smile, hidden beneath my hair. You are pleased. I taste of you, smell of you… and you are happy with me.

"It was very good." Your voice is gentler, your touch kinder. "You have my permission to come now."

And as soon as you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of me, I come. I come and come and come… over and over and over… In and out, in and out, flying from you and flying back…

… as always, yours.

Friday, July 11, 2003