All tied up

I've stripped, a little show before you gesture me into place under the crossbeams. Not too much though, I'm still aware and afraid so black and white cotton still rub me as I glide across the floor. Arms up, military attention, and breathe in.

My eyes are open, fixated on the warm glow of the candles.

He starts on my waist, and after a moment of soft rope gliding, caressing, binding, I know you're starting a little higher. You're such a tease, breaking my concentration on the candles to look down at the hands that caress my tits right next to the rope. Such a shit eating grin becomes you, and I smile right back knowing you're only looking for more fun. He's moved lower, winding around my legs in firm and comforting knots as I remember to keep breathing... in... out... relax so I don't fall due to locked knees. The candles are still reassuring brightness to keep my mind in the reality and not to where I know it'll follow if you keep going like that....

I'm leaning back into reassuring bonds, so weightless. Arching back, there's a pressure above my hips, but it's a mild annoyance, nothing a bit of squirming the bonds back into place doesn't fix. I'm turning, eyes on the floor, back arched into nothing or the heavens, I don't really know which. My eyes are on the floor below, confirming the floating and freefall all wrapped up in one. Slight jarring as my feet hit the braces, a dance of movement to correct the spins brings me back from the fall and noticing I'm slightly dizzy from the feelings. No such thing as dancer's spotting when you're free floating in bondage. He notices, unties the leg straps, and asks me to place my feet back onto earth. But I, I know that the way he's holding the ropes, I won't be able to reach. Lift myself up with strength of arm, I'm back upright to shocked looks and expressions that say I shouldn't have gone up so quickly, so effortlessly. Rope caresses again as he gets the top to have some fun and you work the bottom parts off me and back into rope chain.

Somehow, the candles are just a touch brighter.

My eyes are open, looking at the candles as I sit on a box, feet extended and crossed while you work on an elaborate zipper to bind them down. He's just finished with my thighs and upper torso, connection to lock me seated, although I have the freedom to bend forward. He's now fixated on rope manacles to keep my arms at bay, so helpless to actually fight anything that might become of me. I'm locked up with a little give, at your mercy. Arms finally brought into place at my back, all hope of breaking out gone, anticipation. Breathe out, my eyes close.

He's working at my back and shoulders, relaxing my constant, wary tension. I could be a puddle in those hands, no longer feeling the bindings as restraint. Suddenly, a whisper before a jerking to my hair. There's teeth on my neck, a warm ache racing to places that it shouldn't be while hands are under the cotton, playing with my nipple and judging how far along I am. In the black bliss I hear your voice, next to me, teasing me. I'm quite flustered by the attention, and it's showing under your hands. If I wasn't still in panties and tied in that position, I'd have dripped all over your padded box by now, although you won't know it. Breathe in and needles are being trailed along my skin, that ungodly sensual toy finger set you know I love so much. His ministrations at my earlobe and his hand in my hair trail off as I hear him retreat to the kitchen. Fuck it all, restraint be damned, he's going to get ice.

You didn't know it was possible for me to get harder, but even the promise was enough to bring up my breathing. Your kidding and gleeful whisper in my ear is enough to open my eyes just long enough to breathe out and close them again. I sink back in bliss, into your arms before the first bite of cold trails on me. My neck in your teeth this time, you claim I taste oh, so good, before the blissful sting takes me. Cold touch, drops of ice melt, the wonderful feeling of sharp sensation that makes my breath come in ragged gasps; the needles join the ice and I'm dripping wet in more places than one. He brings the ice to the cotton while you work on a sadist's reverse waxplay on my back... I squirm as much as the bondage allows, wishing I could arch up and buck to show how much I love what the both of you are doing. Warmth settles around my fingers; while he's still alternating between the sweet kiss of cold and caressing the area he touched with his lips, you're sucking at my fingers like the extension of my sex that they've seemed to turn into. I drop further to escape the overload of sensation and sensuality. If I didn't, I don't know what I would have asked to do.

A tingle, while more hands are seemingly everywhere. My foot's starting to go to sleep in bondage, and although I don't want this to stop - oh, please, never stop - I need to say something. It takes two tries, my mind centered on much more than my safety, to let you know. Play stops, in a rush, and the ropes are suddenly the only thing caressing me as they're undone. You know I call you evil for a reason. Not evil as in malicious; there's an evil sadist in bringing about my objects of pure ecstasy to watch me writhe in the pain of pleasure.

But, for fun, I show off my rope marks along the side of my legs to you, and in the process of posing I flash him my wet black cotton clad cunt. With our agreement of no sexual intercourse, I also can be oh-so-evil.