| Straight: BDSM: Lessons (1/3) |
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Like so many early mornings, the brightness of the rising sun began to pierce the veil of sleep draped over Michelle but as her eyes slowly regain focus she did not find the warmth of her bed. Instead, there was a creeping ache in her legs and a brilliant light before her eyes. Realizing that her head was tilted back, she leaned forward to be greeted with screams from her already sore muscles. She was standing, or made to stand, in the light and before her eyes seems to be an oddly placed single strand of rope. For a moment the perfect twist of the cord, free from any fraying, hypnotized her with a dance of light and shadow following a dull clicking sound. The cord vibrated with minute undulations that echoed deep within her, causing unsteady gasps rooted in both surprise and pleasure. The tension increased and her vertical body teetered even more on her demure feet. Curiosity made her look down and she beheld similar ropes encasing her chest. The rope, like long fingers, wrapped above and below her cleavage in parallel bands with more cascading down from her shoulders. These strands fell from the shoulder and cinched the bands between her breasts, making her plain brassiere strain containing her swelling flesh. She struggled, but with her wrists bound behind her back in parallel she only accomplished an obscene juggle of each cup trying to pull them apart. The cord from above threaded down under the band pressing her cleavage upward, knotting to the end of a gleaming metal shaft. A flex of her inner muscles proved that this shaft bent upward into her. Another click, another gasp, and this hook tried again to press against her hood piercing while straining to reach her cervix. Michelle tried to squeeze, trying to hold back the advance but failed, her calves burning to keep her balance on the slippery metal. Panic started to wash over Michelle teetering on the very edge of falling over when out of the corner of her eye a figure approached. The light made it hard to focus, but the highly tailored suit placed marked the man as her husband; she had customized that jacket with the extra pockets he wanted. She wanted to speak, to greet him, but his abrupt stop did more to silence her than any other gesture. He stood, having moved just close enough for his feet to fall out of view while the rest of him remained. Slowly and carefully, as if the circle of light on the floor was lava, he started to move around her left past the point the hook would allow her to turn. Never a word spoken, but her ears picked up the aggressive swish of rattan in the air. She gasped aloud as if the empty space was filled with her skin, afraid of what would happen if it were to truly connect. One final squeeze on the metal within and she was given an answer. The cane sliced through the air and the very tip dug into her left side, feeling as if it were slicing through but only abrading with the end. Her scream comes with such force that it could not be heard. Another came before the pulsing of the first had even matured to an ache. Panting now, hard enough to make her chest hurt against the rope, her head swooned only to be forced into keeping the balance. Trembling, more from the sheer force of will needed to stave off the faint creeping |
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