Solstice
12/22/2012
When I arrived at the address, I found the room cool and her nipples erect. She lay naked on the table, face up, a wide red silk ribbon doubled-folded, then tied across her eyes. She had heard me enter but she barely stirred, as such was what was expected. Without any discussion, I bucked four leather cuffs on her, one per limb, fixing lines to the corners of the table, connecting the lines together with the ringing snick and snap of metal on metal, tightening each corner line, adding and tightening each limb-to-limb connection in turn, each line reducing by a perceptible measures the remaining motion available to her. Her breath quickened with the materialization of that which was moments before fantasy, now manifested in rope and leather. In my one orbit of the table, the warmth of my hands touching her not at all save for a brief foray through the tunnel at the small of her back, our adult game of connect-the-dots (wrist-to-ankle, to-ankle, to-wrist, to-wrist) was complete, leaving her splayed open and indeed quite bare, each limb tensioned to neighbors and corner, each three-point attachment joined to respective cuff with a bright steel carabiner. She was now able to do little more than raise her face, soft lips parted and damp, to touch chin to neck.
I retrieved my device from its leather case, connected the cord to waiting outlet, smeared on its peach-smooth head a dollop of gel, the gel yet chilled from transit, gave the switch on the slide a quick flick, the low impatient hum of its motor filling the room, and placed the instrument, rather unceremoniously I should think, right on the hood of her waiting clit. She instantly gasped , loudly, her back arching and elbows pressing hard into the table, the lines going taught, and she began to shake.
Now, I could (but will not!) herein relate the various practices, the methods and the tools intended to evoke, heighten, and prolong this affair. As is with prestidigitation, the workings of tricks are best left murky, lest the magic be wasted, lessening both the anticipation and impact of spectacle for the person who might yet choose to partake. Let me just say that I led her along a path of my choosing — up and down and up and down the walls of pleasure and denial, with sporadic forays into the subtle, delightful, and twisted paths of sharp pain and tender caress.
Her initial gasps turned to long belly breaths as the journey lengthened, punctuated by a shrill keening at every climax — and theire were many As her endurance flagged, her exclamations gave way to begging, then whimpering, eventually settling upon something that I imagine akin to a giant ancient mammalian drone, trance having replaced any conscious control. Her body shone with sweat even in the dim light, muscles deep inside contracting with throe after climactic throe. I watched her sweat coalesce into rivulets, running down to darken the flannel cloth beneath her, these spreading shadows heightening the candycane contrast of spindrift-pale arms, legs, and belly and the ever-blossoming red furnace of neck, chest, & core.
After a time, I abruptly stopped pleasuring her, and hung motionless over her for a moment, our chests rising and falling in syncopated time.
While she struggled to regain control of her breathing, heart rate, and sporadic mad vibrato of her thighs, eyes casting about like those of blind birds tracking their mother in the nest, I, with practiced pace, removed the cuffs and lines, packing them and my device together into my tote with a snap. With that, I paused momentarily to take in the side of her face, head lolled to the side, left arm draped off the table, and watched a shining drop of perspiration at the tip of her index finger pause, lengthen, tremble, and fall away out of sight.
Reverie broken, I shook my head, produced a small tan card from my shirt pocket, blank but for the few letters of my address, and placed it on her sternum. Into the curve of her ear I whispered “My name, I may now tell you, is [REDACTED]… I would be honored to be in your company again… should you so desire. Or, you may pass that card on. Good evening.”
Coat now over my shoulders, doorknob turned and pushed, the splash of winter air raising goosebumps on her exposed flesh (though I did not pause to check), I stepped into the dark, shutting the wooden door behind me with enough force to loose the past hours’ accumulated snow from ivy above. I walked, pulling the dark wool coat closer, as the cold night caressed my still-damp skin, tiny snowflakes transforming into cobweb icicles upon my lashes.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/p1bhm4/solstice_f_bdsm
[deleted]