I look up at you and whisper the words softly, barely making a sound.
You have tied me so tightly that breathing is a torture. I have felt every knot close around me with loving tenderness, giving me what I want from you. Feeling the rising excitement within my body, the flow of need for you, the denial of myself that bound like this I cannot have you, yet.
So my lust for you, for now, must be contained by the tightening rope that constricts me. You have made it hurt me just that little bit more than I can bear, but not enough that I scream for you to stop.
The doubled cord that traps my clit is wet for you now. I need you to know that. I need to feel the lightest touch of your fingers reaching between my tightly bound legs to drive me insane for you.
Always, always you know where you can take me to. Always I sense the care that underlies your cruelty to me.
Which is why I twist and squirm to make my cords bite still more, because I need your hurt still more. My mind has transposed the suffering that you create for me into a form of tenderness that few would recognise. I know that your ropes will mark me, but I love seeing those marks. They are your marks.
I wear them with pride. When they fade I want more.
Bondage has become your embrace, and I want it around me, which I why I want to be left this way. I want your waves of pleasure washing over me while I lie alone in your cocoon of ecstasy.
You stand back and watch, looking at me. I know your mind, I see the desire you have for me. Being bound like this makes me know that I am your possession, your personal property, to use in any way you choose.
Being tightly bound lets me think back over the times you have used me like this, and how you will use me again.
Tears sting my eyes. They are not tears of pain, though I feel that well enough through the cruelty of your cords. They are tears of joy for what you have given me through our love, like this. I thrust myself at you; hurting myself, wanting you to know how painful your ropes are.
But ultimately I want to be left alone, like this, for a little sweet time of my own. But before you go I want you to fuck my mouth, then gag me while your cum still fills me.
I know that this is the time you need to drift away, where the cruel constriction of my bondage takes you to that other place. It would be easy to be jealous of that time, because I cannot go with you, only wait until you return.
Were you not bound, you would not be free to go there, such is the sweet paradox of your mind.
But I know what that ‘away time’ does to you. I have felt that boost to your already hyper-libido. You return wanting more and more. That is irresistible. You know well the power it gives you.
And I find myself looking down at you. Looking down on the woman who belongs to me. Your gift of self to me. Your ultimate surrender to the need you have. I felt your soft moans as I jerked your elbows together behind your back. Knowing that your willpower would make you take my torture as my ropes worked their exquisite cruelty around your brazen nakedness.
The thin cords that cut into your wet flow of excitement, burying themselves to disappear within you, seeing you force yourself down to have them that little deeper, wetted by your own passions.
Your sense of helplessness brings the tears I love to see and I lean over you. I brush your moistened eyes with tender kisses to taste the tears that flow for me.
There is a hot closeness in your laboured breathing. It is the force of your wanting as I feel you twisting against bonds that I know you have no desire to escape from.
You look up at me, with a power of longing so intense that it makes the pendulum of our passion balance itself between submission and domination.
Your mouth opens with silent invitation, testing my resolve to control you. I know what you want put into your mouth.
You know the power you have. And the more tightly you are bound the more blatantly you use it.
I pick up a large cock-gag, the one with a breathing hole down the middle, and force it into your mouth. You look at me in mock reproach as I tighten the strap behind your neck, shaking your head in resistance as I pull on the buckle to the last notch.
As a final punishment from trying to usurp my control over you, I draw your bound ankles up to your wrists until your body is in a taut bow, and lash them together.
A soft moan escapes from behind the gag, which tells me of your sweet suffering.
I plant a sweet kiss on your nose, then turn and leave you where you need to be.