Was Zoe crazy to love a man because he could tie her up this way--because he wanted to tie her up so that she must remain entirely motionless, head bent so that when her eyes were open she could see only how his rope claimed her?
Was she crazy to love him because he made her keep her pantyhose on, because he liked pantyhose?
She looked at the rope that ran between her legs, against her pantyhose-covered sex, under, and back up to join the rope that held her arms behind her back. The crotch-rope, he called it, but that seemed such a harsh, alien name for something that touched Zoe so intimately. The special rope, she wanted to call it, because it seemed to find out all the things about Zoe that made her the sub she was. The tension in that rope, when she tried to lift her head, made her shout. The special rope rubbed against the pantyhose, and the pantyhose rubbed against her sex, and against her special little opening in back, and below, and Zoe cried out.
And when she cried out, she remembered that he had said that if she made any noise she would be flogged, with his lovely leather flogger.
Zoe moaned as loud as she could, moving her head gently up and down to make the special rope do what made her craziness seem like the only sanity.
"Zoe," he called from the other room, "I'm bringing the flogger, sweetie."
(Photo via Ellis J. Sophia of the wonderful Sensual BDSM community on Google Plus.)
Te digo exactamente lo mismo que en el comentario de la publicación posterior.
ReplyDeleteUn saludo.