Obeisance

Such a naughty girl.

Capture comes in many forms, but today it is found in the length of rope wound tightly around your wrists and stretched in a single twined path to the headboard. Placed on your knees, you are obeisance in form, a naked statue paying homage in reverse.

For I am behind you.

I know your hips well, and I should, for they have held you in this position many times before. Kneeling, I draw you back far enough for the rope to tighten around your wrists, forcing your ass close enough to feel the hard length of my growing need through the coarse fabric of my jeans.

Enough; you know your place now, your upper half securely bound, and the lower free for me to use.

I pull away, leaning over your back, my breath tickling your skin as I leave small bites along the length of your spine, teeth drawing across your bared skin, bestowing the small cruelties where flesh meets hunger. At the curve of your ass, I pause, and a more intimate touch is applied.

Nuzzling, I lick lower, pressing downward until I can taste you. Fingers replace my tongue: two, slipped quickly inside, curled upwards to read you from within, a steady pressure that fucks with intent, slipping in and out of you again and again until I feel you clenching greedily against my invading hand. My other hand finds your clit and is less gentle, capturing it between two knuckles, rolling it slowly side to side, tightening again and again, never quite touching it directly, just teasing, a cruel dance played out between the space of my fingers.

Now when I grip your hips, I'm not testing the strength of the rope, but the limits of your hunger. I slide into you, a single fucking thrust that drives you forward only to have you dragged back again when my fingers slide into the back of your hair and tug. I want you taunt, caught between the rope and my cock.

Now the real games can begin in earnest.