The rope felt like it was going to cut me in half. It was stretched tightly against my crotch, snuggled between my cunt lips, the rough fibers scratching at my sensitive skin. I couldn’t move with my hands tied behind my back and ankles tied together, so I just knelt on the floor, trying not to wiggle and twitch. I breathed deeply as I soaked the rope between my legs, waiting for what would come next.
He pushed me over, and I tumbled to the floor in a jumbled heap. The ropes around me tightened, the crotch rope paralyzing me with pain and discomfort. Slowly, he untied me. Keeping his hands on me, holding me, staying close, his breath against my bare skin was warm and comforting. When he gently pulled the damp rope from my cleft, the blood came rushing back into my clit, and I cried out, needing to be touched. And, he did touch me, but not where I needed. He rubbed my back and shoulders with his rough hands, he kneaded the muscles in my thighs, he scratched his fingernails down my back, leaving burning red stripes that melted their way down to my cunt. I writhed on the carpet as he raked his hands over my skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain made me incoherent, inhuman, simply a ball of sensation. Then he used his rope to bind me once again, face down this time.
He straddled my prone and helpless body, pressing his weight into the rope, tightening the binds. I could feel his cock as he rubbed it up and down my crack, and I bucked into him. I wanted him inside me. His weight was like a blanket, wrapping me in warmth. His teasing strung me along an unknown road, and only he knew the destination.
He plunged his fingers inside me, smearing my juices all around my lips and clit, rubbing furiously as I lurched beneath him, crying and moaning. He told me to come, but I barely registered the order, lost in sensation, riding waves of pleasure as I followed him blindly. His fingers found the spot, the rhythm, and he tipped me over the edge, he carried me through the hills and valleys of a thunderous orgasm.
He wasn’t done with me yet, and I was greedy for more. He used the rope as a handle, to pull my ass into the air, a perfect target for his cock, a perfect target for his wrath. He rained down blows of sweet pain, his hand reddening my white flesh before thrusting into me, a rough intrusion warmly welcomed by my needy cunt, feeding my need to be used. He stopped as suddenly as he started. He untied the rope and moved me to the ottoman, securing me to it, and I waited in the silence, not hearing his footsteps, quiet on the carpet. He let me wait there, knowing I wanted more, knowing my cunt fluttered for him.
I heard the buzzing, before I felt him push the vibrator inside me. I felt the strap, loud leather claps and slaps, brightening my skin as I burrowed into the upholstery. Then came the paddle, stinging thuds that spread like fire over my cheeks, tendrils of smokey sensation swirling their way down to my cunt. Then the flogger with strategic blows that wandered their way between my legs, stinging my damp fleshy folds, urging me to come again. I could hear myself screaming and moaning as I floated in a haze. He moved to my head, sinking his cock into my throat, holding it there as he continued to abuse my backside. I could taste myself on him, my own personal tang. I didn’t even need to swallow when he released his spunk into me, only needing force and gravity for it to slide down my throat. Tears streamed down my smiling face as he collapsed onto my back, his torture tools dropped and forgotten on the floor.
“Good girl, blue”, he sighed into my back, streaked in red by his own talented hands.