My pulse pounds in my ears, eyes locked on you as you step into the room. A vision of control, of power, confidence and danger and temptation combined into one irresistible form. You walk slowly towards me, stretching the moment to the breaking point, my entire being following every sway of your body as you approach. Stopping maybe a foot away you cross your arms, one eyebrow raised as you wait for my co-operation in my own torment to begin. I struggle, as always, my mind refusing to relinquish control, to surrender to anyone, even such a beauty as you. Yet, as always, I feel my heart rise to override rational thought, despite my best efforts I feel my normal mask slip aside, a terrible, wonderful need to become yours, even if only for a little while, washing over me. Slowly, haltingly I reach up, my hands searching until they find the rope hanging above, hands wrapping around it as I stretch up to ensure my grip is as secure as possible.
Still you watch, still you wait, your eyes drilling into mine, knowing that for something this simple your very presence will be enough to overwhelm me. This isn’t a new revelation, yet it is the one that seems to excite you more than any other, the utter domination over my soul you command never failing to send a shiver through you. This time is no different than the others and after only a few seconds have passed I drop my eyes in subservience, and as before I hear the faintest of moans escape your lips, not even your strength equal to completely denying such a pleasure. The only sound is the faint click of your heels on the wood floor as you stalk around me, your eyes tracing the outline of my body, a hunger there that, even without being able to see you I can feel. As you move the air stirs with your passing, as if even that wishes to caress you, serve you. I shiver as the faint breeze passes over my bare stomach, chest and arms, my work shirt folded neatly on the single chair by the door.
You finish your circuit, coming to a halt in front of me once more and I can feel your satisfaction, both at the sight before you and that my eyes haven’t risen from the floor. That at least is a lesson I learnt a long time ago, and the memory of it is still enough to make me shudder at the thought of enduring it a second time. Despite my best intentions, despite knowing what is about to happen, I jump as your fingers touch my skin, tracing small circles from my hips up my sides, past my ribs pausing only to trace your nail around each ridge before continuing up,up,up. Over the taut skin of my pits you travel, sending shockwaves through my body that almost yank my remaining control away, only the brief respite afforded as you move further up saving me, and that only for the moment.
Your hands touch my elbows at the same moment you have to move forward to stop yourself overbalancing. I swallow as you press against me, the smooth softness of your suit luxurious against my skin, the heat of your body clear as you press against me. This close I can feel the beating of your heart and work hard to suppress a smile as I realise it’s as pounding just as fast as mine despite your outward appearance. I feel rather than see the ghost of a smile pass over your lips, a slight, so slight it could be imagined, whisper of air escaping your lips.
Then the world dissolves into laughter, my laughter ringing clear in the small room as your fingers dance down my arms, diving into the waiting hollows of my underarms, spinning franticly over skin you know all too well. My mind dissolves, rational thought banished, emotions scattered, as all I know is hysteria. Sharp, pointed nails flying over both armpits and ribs, visiting all the old familiar places you’ve touched so many times before, yet they never seem to become accustomed to your tender mercies.
The effect is devastating, torturous as I claw to hang on to the rope above me, my body seeming to fade from the ground up. Everything below my ankles seems dead, only the vaguest ghost there to assure me they remain. My body trembles with effort, head back now, eyes screwed close to avoid the punishment that meeting your gaze will surely bring. My jaw hangs open, trapped now by the need, the overwhelming need, to release the laughter building inside me. Devastating, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
You hands waltz over my stomach and ribs, striking without warning as you pick your moments, never allowing a pattern to emerge, trailing your fingertips gently over my flesh one instant, digging in the next, never resting, never pausing yet always, somehow keeping me a half step from the abyss as I struggle to draw breath. The numbness spreads up my legs, wrapping around my knees and I buckle, the rope burning in my hands as I support my entire body weight by my arms, the muscles straining to stay in place.
You finally reach my hips and waist, dragging your nails slowly along the sensitive flesh, delighting in both the reactions you have caused within me and the defiance displayed as I struggle to keep my grip intact. You pause for a second, reaching out to tap my chin with a finger, pushing my head back, granting me permission to open my eyes as you do so until my gaze meet yours, your stare trapping me as you burn into my soul. Slowly an evil smile passes across your lips and I see you tense. A single kiss blows from your lips and at that exact instant you dig in, right hand playing my side like a harp, left scrabbling around my stomach as you dip a single tapered fingernail into my navel.
A howl escapes me, more animal than man, a mix of laughter, despair and delight as I face my own limitations once more, and once more push beyond them. Your eyes, still locked on mine, seem to feed me, give me strength and for a moment the burning inevitability in my shoulders and arms slackens, quenched by your gift even as you push me onwards, ever onwards, stretching my endurance to the breaking point. I want desperately to turn away; to quit, to simply let go of my self imposed bondage, yet I cannot bare the thought of turning from you. My body is by now numb from the neck down, only the fire ripping through my shoulders and arms remain, that and the constant, relentless tickles being bestowed upon my helpless flesh. The only sound my almost silent laughter, only a brief, thin, high note audible now as I feel the breath driven from me.
My vision blurs, tears leaking from my eyes as I struggle for just one more second, just one more, not even your strength enough to force the pain away now. The world seems to turn red, my body finally succumbing to the inevitable. My lungs heave, empty, unable to pull air past the laughter that fills my mouth and block my throat. The red turns to black and the last thing I feel is the final burn of the rope passing through my fingers, the thud of my body on the floor not even registering.
I wake to find my head in your lap, your face staring down at me with a mix of concern and pride.
“How….how long?” I gasp, still weak from the ordeal. In reply you hold out an old-fashioned analogue stopwatch, the hands frozen at nine minutes, forty-five seconds. Fifteen seconds shy of the goal, fifteen seconds. Fifteen short seconds that doom me to an evening of torment and delight at your hands, tongue and toys.
“Sorry my love.” You whisper, “but maybe next time… Now take a few minutes to catch your breath, get dressed and get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, five o’clock sharp at the front door.”
I watch from my position on the floor as you stand, smooth the crease from the business suit that seems to caress every curve of that incredible body and saunter to the door. Opening it you step through, pause, turn and blow me a kiss, a single wink and you’re gone, no doubt off to plan my punishment for failing your challenge yet again, the sixth week in succession I have done so to my shame.
Standing I slip on my shirt and glance around, reach up and trace a finger around the end of the rope that seemed to be such an impossible challenge to master. Fifteen seconds…. well, there was always next week…
Still you watch, still you wait, your eyes drilling into mine, knowing that for something this simple your very presence will be enough to overwhelm me. This isn’t a new revelation, yet it is the one that seems to excite you more than any other, the utter domination over my soul you command never failing to send a shiver through you. This time is no different than the others and after only a few seconds have passed I drop my eyes in subservience, and as before I hear the faintest of moans escape your lips, not even your strength equal to completely denying such a pleasure. The only sound is the faint click of your heels on the wood floor as you stalk around me, your eyes tracing the outline of my body, a hunger there that, even without being able to see you I can feel. As you move the air stirs with your passing, as if even that wishes to caress you, serve you. I shiver as the faint breeze passes over my bare stomach, chest and arms, my work shirt folded neatly on the single chair by the door.
You finish your circuit, coming to a halt in front of me once more and I can feel your satisfaction, both at the sight before you and that my eyes haven’t risen from the floor. That at least is a lesson I learnt a long time ago, and the memory of it is still enough to make me shudder at the thought of enduring it a second time. Despite my best intentions, despite knowing what is about to happen, I jump as your fingers touch my skin, tracing small circles from my hips up my sides, past my ribs pausing only to trace your nail around each ridge before continuing up,up,up. Over the taut skin of my pits you travel, sending shockwaves through my body that almost yank my remaining control away, only the brief respite afforded as you move further up saving me, and that only for the moment.
Your hands touch my elbows at the same moment you have to move forward to stop yourself overbalancing. I swallow as you press against me, the smooth softness of your suit luxurious against my skin, the heat of your body clear as you press against me. This close I can feel the beating of your heart and work hard to suppress a smile as I realise it’s as pounding just as fast as mine despite your outward appearance. I feel rather than see the ghost of a smile pass over your lips, a slight, so slight it could be imagined, whisper of air escaping your lips.
Then the world dissolves into laughter, my laughter ringing clear in the small room as your fingers dance down my arms, diving into the waiting hollows of my underarms, spinning franticly over skin you know all too well. My mind dissolves, rational thought banished, emotions scattered, as all I know is hysteria. Sharp, pointed nails flying over both armpits and ribs, visiting all the old familiar places you’ve touched so many times before, yet they never seem to become accustomed to your tender mercies.
The effect is devastating, torturous as I claw to hang on to the rope above me, my body seeming to fade from the ground up. Everything below my ankles seems dead, only the vaguest ghost there to assure me they remain. My body trembles with effort, head back now, eyes screwed close to avoid the punishment that meeting your gaze will surely bring. My jaw hangs open, trapped now by the need, the overwhelming need, to release the laughter building inside me. Devastating, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
You hands waltz over my stomach and ribs, striking without warning as you pick your moments, never allowing a pattern to emerge, trailing your fingertips gently over my flesh one instant, digging in the next, never resting, never pausing yet always, somehow keeping me a half step from the abyss as I struggle to draw breath. The numbness spreads up my legs, wrapping around my knees and I buckle, the rope burning in my hands as I support my entire body weight by my arms, the muscles straining to stay in place.
You finally reach my hips and waist, dragging your nails slowly along the sensitive flesh, delighting in both the reactions you have caused within me and the defiance displayed as I struggle to keep my grip intact. You pause for a second, reaching out to tap my chin with a finger, pushing my head back, granting me permission to open my eyes as you do so until my gaze meet yours, your stare trapping me as you burn into my soul. Slowly an evil smile passes across your lips and I see you tense. A single kiss blows from your lips and at that exact instant you dig in, right hand playing my side like a harp, left scrabbling around my stomach as you dip a single tapered fingernail into my navel.
A howl escapes me, more animal than man, a mix of laughter, despair and delight as I face my own limitations once more, and once more push beyond them. Your eyes, still locked on mine, seem to feed me, give me strength and for a moment the burning inevitability in my shoulders and arms slackens, quenched by your gift even as you push me onwards, ever onwards, stretching my endurance to the breaking point. I want desperately to turn away; to quit, to simply let go of my self imposed bondage, yet I cannot bare the thought of turning from you. My body is by now numb from the neck down, only the fire ripping through my shoulders and arms remain, that and the constant, relentless tickles being bestowed upon my helpless flesh. The only sound my almost silent laughter, only a brief, thin, high note audible now as I feel the breath driven from me.
My vision blurs, tears leaking from my eyes as I struggle for just one more second, just one more, not even your strength enough to force the pain away now. The world seems to turn red, my body finally succumbing to the inevitable. My lungs heave, empty, unable to pull air past the laughter that fills my mouth and block my throat. The red turns to black and the last thing I feel is the final burn of the rope passing through my fingers, the thud of my body on the floor not even registering.
I wake to find my head in your lap, your face staring down at me with a mix of concern and pride.
“How….how long?” I gasp, still weak from the ordeal. In reply you hold out an old-fashioned analogue stopwatch, the hands frozen at nine minutes, forty-five seconds. Fifteen seconds shy of the goal, fifteen seconds. Fifteen short seconds that doom me to an evening of torment and delight at your hands, tongue and toys.
“Sorry my love.” You whisper, “but maybe next time… Now take a few minutes to catch your breath, get dressed and get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, five o’clock sharp at the front door.”
I watch from my position on the floor as you stand, smooth the crease from the business suit that seems to caress every curve of that incredible body and saunter to the door. Opening it you step through, pause, turn and blow me a kiss, a single wink and you’re gone, no doubt off to plan my punishment for failing your challenge yet again, the sixth week in succession I have done so to my shame.
Standing I slip on my shirt and glance around, reach up and trace a finger around the end of the rope that seemed to be such an impossible challenge to master. Fifteen seconds…. well, there was always next week…
