The rope is surprising. The restraint more about containment, somehow. Safe. The slow pull of each tie, each expert tangle. The rasp of it, as it pulls against skin, clothing, carpet, itself. I am a novice. The tying makes me giggle. But I’m drawn to it too. The fingers of the rope master. The concentration he brings to the task. The frustration at a wrong choice, the subsequent unknotting and redoing. I wait. Try not to move. Feel myself more contained as the binding holds me. Not too tight, this first time. But enough to leave marks when the rope is unraveled. Pretty in pink. I’m cupped in roses.
that is beautiful, and yes, the pink surprises! sneaky, sneaky pink ropes…
Dais! I’m sold. I like this rope stuff. Didn’t you do suspension once?
That looks like it hurts in the prettiest way.
Discomfort, restraint. Very very sexy :)
You do know how to grab a boy’s attention now don’t you ;)
*grin*
You know the anticipation is killing me…
Mmm. Just trying to think of the right story to tell :)