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.
She 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, she untied me. Keeping her hands on me, holding me, staying close, her breath against my bare skin was warm and comforting. When she 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, she did touch me, but not where I needed. She rubbed my back and shoulders with her soft hands, she kneaded the muscles in my thighs, she scratched her fingernails down my back, leaving burning red stripes that melted their way down to my cunt. I writhed on the carpet as she raked her hands over my skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain made me incoherent, inhuman, simply a ball of sensation. Then she used her rope to bind me once again, face down this time.
She straddled my prone and helpless body, pressing her weight into the rope, tightening the binds. I could feel her fingers as she rubbed them up and down my crack, and I bucked into them. I wanted them inside me. Her weight was like a blanket, wrapping me in warmth. Her teasing strung me along an unknown road, and only she knew the destination.
She plunged her fingers inside me, smearing my juices all around my lips and clit, rubbing furiously as I lurched beneath her, crying and moaning. She told me to come, but I barely registered the order, lost in sensation, riding waves of pleasure as I followed her blindly. Her fingers found the spot, the rhythm, and she tipped me over the edge, she carried me through the hills and valleys of a thunderous orgasm.
She wasn’t done with me yet, and I was greedy for more. She used the rope as a handle, to pull my ass into the air, a perfect target for her eyes, a perfect target for her wrath. She rained down blows of sweet pain, her hand reddening my white flesh before thrusting two fingers into me once more, a rough intrusion warmly welcomed by my needy cunt, feeding my need to be used. She stopped as suddenly as she started. She untied the rope and moved me to the ottoman, securing me to it face up, spread wide, and I waited in the silence, not hearing her footsteps, quiet on the carpet. She let me wait there, knowing I wanted more, knowing my cunt fluttered for her.
I heard the buzzing, before I felt her push the vibrator inside me. I felt the strap on my inner thighs, loud leather claps and slaps, brightening my skin as I sunk into the upholstery. Then came the paddle, stinging thuds that spread like fire over my skin, 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. She moved to my head, straddling my face, suffocating me with her dripping cunt as she continued to abuse my widespread legs. It didn’t me long to make her cum, my tongue finding her clit, flicking it greedily. She cried out, her fingers sinking into the flesh of my thighs, then for a moment, all was quiet. Tears streamed down my smiling face as she collapsed onto me, her torture tools dropped and forgotten on the floor.
“Good girl, blue”, she sighed into my thighs, streaked in red by her own talented hands.