“There’s only so far you can step back.”

Hands, silk, rope, leather – restraints have a very specific purpose. A concrete shift in control. The removal of choice, mental and physical.

There are several people I know who let themselves be tied down by people they wouldn’t trust with their car keys. Why does this idea, this concept of helplessness, have such an appeal? The one answer that I enjoy taking advantage of the most is quite simple: plausible deniability – they can always tell themselves later that they no choice but to enjoy the way he managed to get three fingers inside.

And the appeal for those who are doing the restraining? A captive audience. A blank canvas on which they can write their desires.

***

07-15-03

D’jaevle considers you silently for a moment, his eyes flickering across the lines of your body, as if imagining you in various positions, bound.”

Emerald arches a curious brow as she watches you, wondering what is going on in that mind of yours.

D’jaevle smiles, an expression that appears for just a moment on his lips. He approaches, taking his time, although its clear that he intends to do *something*.”

Emerald tries to stay nonchalant, but her courage wanes as you get closer to her, one foot stepping back hesitantly as you get in arms reach of you, no fear showing, but caution perhaps.

D’jaevle continues forward, hands at his sides comfortably. His eyes look over your shoulder, “There’s only so far you can step back.”

Emerald feels a flush filling her cheeks as her next step back only manages to confirm your words, her back coming flush against an unforgiving tree, halting her retreat.

D’jaevle hides whatever triumphant reaction he might be having, choosing instead to take the moment of uncertainty to reach down and grasp your wrists, his hands gripping them firmly. He appears content – for the moment – to simply hold them at your side, forcing you to deal with the intimate presences of his body so close to yours.

Emerald swallows hard as she feels your grip on her wrists, her mind screaming to resist you, but her body doesn’t listen, it simply stays pinned between you and the tree, following it’s own desires as you feel the tension in her arms lessening as she relaxes them.

D’jaevle doesn’t relax his grip any, but drawing your arms behind you, he holds them between your lower back and the tree. He’s now close enough that his breathing tickles the side of your neck. Using the tree and his left hand to keep you pinned, he uses his free hand to slide around to the front, drawing your shirt up just an inch or two, testing the fabric strength.

Emerald feels her heart beginning to pound in her chest, your nearness wreaking havoc on her body, yet she can’t seem to stop herself, or you. Her cheeks flush with color as you raise her shirt up, baring her midriff, the fabric tight to her body, perhaps clinging would be a better word as it leaves nothing to the imagination

D’jaevle leans over, his face brushing your breasts through your shirt as he does so – lifting the edge of the shirt he bites, using his hand for leverage, he yanks upwards, ripping a swath of fabric about fourteen inches in length, along the edge of the shirt – leaving your midriff bare and cloth in his free hand.

Emerald’s breath catches , jumping as she feels the fabric rip, reflex forcing her wrists to try and fight you i a vain effort to cover herself, but i her struggles, you sense no real panic.

D’jaevle replaces his free hand along your back, where he is holding your wrists against the tree. With both hands braced against you, he stills most of your struggles and wraps the cloth around both wrists before drawing it down and between the wrists. A sharp snap tightens the bond.

Emerald offers little resistance as you wrap the fabric around her wrists, tho she does wince as she feels it cinch tightly between, ensuring her hands will stay behind her now whether she likes it or not.

D’jaevle moves his hands to your waist, fingers brushing bare skin, the shirt being several inches shorter. Leaning down – again, he bites the ragged edge of your shirt and draws it up, over skin, over breasts, until its bunched over them. Leaning back, his eyes lower, and you can feel them on your breasts, tracing their curves.

Emerald rolls her shoulders with a bit of a grunt as you reveal her breasts, cupped in her silken seamless bra, her traitorous nipples already budding and quite visible under the thin fabric, responding to the teasing touches.

D’jaevle steps back just a step or two, still surveying you. He turns, going to a nearby tree and backpack. Opening it, he takes out two coiled ropes, small and simple, but efficient. He turns back to you and steps close again, slowly lowering himself – his breath leaving a trail down your bare stomache.

Emerald watches as you retreat, her legs tensing to retreat, but her curiosity halts her, , having her follow you a step forward to see what you are doing, before you turn back, immediately stepping back, grunting as she her hands make contact with the tree, her window gone. She squirms a bit as you tease her now bared stomach, legs fidgeting.

D’jaevle takes one of the rope and wraps it around your left ankle – twice, once coiled atop the other. He stands, walking around the tree, coming to face you again. His eyes on yours, he lowers himself yet again, settling a small moist kiss against your bare stomach as he loops the other end of the rope around the right ankle, drawing it tight and forcing both legs back against the tree.

Emerald can only stand there and watch, her body refusing to respond to reason, allowing you to bind her to the tree, ensuring that she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. She feels the bark of the tree rubbing against her bare calves, giving a small tug to her one ankle confirms she is going nowhere unless the tree goes with her, a highly unlikely scenario given the thickness of it’s trunk.

D’jaevle stands, unphased by your testing of the restraint. If anything, his gaze encourages you to test – to push – to struggle and find the limits of the simple, but effective, bonds. With you relatively held in place, he turns his attention to tour breasts – drawing fingers down across the silken bras, finding the hardening nipples through the fabric.

Emerald offers a soft whimper as she catches your gaze, growing uncomfortably with the heat it seems to create inside of her. She wrestles with her bound hands, stilling only once your fingers find her hardened nipples perking out thru her bra, her gaze shifting down and off to the side.

D’jaevle’s fingers become slightly rougher, as if your struggles are drawing his own tension to the surface. Fingers rake down across the fabric again, but is not content to do so through the fabric – he reaches up and hooks fingers along the top of the bra, dragging it down, knowing the size of your breasts will make it hard to drag without help. A hand to his side draws a sharp knife. Before you mark its presence, he adds two slices to your bra, one for each breast, giving him the room he needs to drag it.

Emerald blinks in disbelief as you slice her bra, the cool air on her breasts draws her gaze upwards, whimpering to no one in particular as she starts to look around, seeing no one but yourself around her, she still floods with color at her cheeks from the exposure

D’jaevle pauses, savoring the sight of your breasts for a moment, apparently unconcerned about the possibility of others seeing you; unconcerned, or enticing. But he doesn’t remain frozen – he takes advantage of your naked skin to lower his lips to the edge of your breasts, lips parted to trace a moist trail down your right breast, to the nipple – not quite touching it, content to circle slowly.

Emerald dips her head back against the tree, a moan rolling free from her parted lips at your teasings. her nipples harden even further, almost painful so with their need, only adding more fuel to the growing fire within her. Her hips shift, the knee length skirt covering them not seeming to be enough anymore.

D’jaevle appears content to remain where he is for the moment. His mouth leaving burning kisses against your breasts, dancing along the edges, circling each nipples, not quite touching, but encouraging your body to respond. Finally, his hands on your waist drawing you forward against his knee, his teeth close on one nipple, not so much biting as dragging the edge along the hard edges of your right nipple.

Emerald groans as you press your knee against her, flushing as her hips grind back against you, making her eyes close tight with the flush of color in her cheeks. her fingers work against each other behind her, fidgeting at your continued teasings, awakening her body in ways she had forgotten previously.

D’jaevle draws the nipple deeper into his mouth, lips closing around it as he sucks slowly, rolling the hard tip against his tongue. Hands slide along the small of your back, against bare skin, tips drawing the edge of your skirt up, an inch…two, knee pressing up between your thighs, giving you something to drive against.

Emerald leans her upper body back against the tree, a deep shiver teasing down her spine from your dual teasings. She doesn’t even seem to notice her skirt rising, her legs even offering to help as they shift a bit further apart, lowering herself a bit onto your offered knee, feeling the delicious pressure, wanting to feel more.

D’jaevle draws back, taking your nipple with him, pulling it taut before he releases it. Fingers slide lower, giving him a better grip to drag the skirt up further, and it doesn’t take long before your bare thighs are pressed against the hard pressure of his knee driving up sharply against you.

Emerald’s breath catches as her nipple snaps back, her head dipping forward, eyes a bit hazed as she looks towards you, meeting your face for only a moment before the pressure from your knee makes her forget everything else but the fire within her loins. As your knee meets her panties, it is quite obvious that she is aroused, her panties soaked thru with it.

D’jaevle lowers his knee, slowly, leaving your thighs empty. But only for a moment – with the skirt bunched around your waist, his hands are free and he reaches up, a hand on either side of your face. With you slightly dazed, he leans in, lips close enough to meet yours, to kiss, to taste…but they merely part and draw your lower lip into his mouth, biting, knee returning to your crotch, rubbing the length against you.

Emerald whimpers a soft protest at the kiss, her lashes fluttering a bit at your kiss, but lose the battle, her eyes remaining closed, tho her lips part a bit further at teh return of your knee, groaning as you see her struggle once more in her bonds, growing restless with her arousal.

D’jaevle tastes you just long enough to bite once more, before letting his hands fall to your waist. You can feel fingers drag down your bare stomach to the edge of your panties – and then curl, dragging it down slightly. Its clear he knows the effect its having on you.

Emerald whimpers at the slowness you take with her, not sure how you can go so slow, when she is so hot right now. Her feet shuffle restlessly on the ground as you start to peel off her panties, the fabric burning into her the longer it’s on her. Youw atch a flood of color tinge her cheeks as she averts her face, her mind slipping in to chastise her, before you see her turning forward again, the struggle evident in her dazed eyes as she looks towards you.

D’jaevle does seem to enjoy watching, feeling, tasting your growing need. But as deliberate and slow as he may be moving – it is in definition of an act. And as the panties are drawn down your thighs, as they come to rest, like your bra, just below what they are meant to hide – fingers plunge inside, three of them driving into you, all the way.

Emerald suddenly has no care as to who might be able to see her on her current state, your fingers plunging into the source of her heat and restlessness nearly undoing her, making her moan loud enough to echo in her own ears, her sex wet and ready, greedily taking the offered fingers.

D’jaevle slowly slips the finger from inside you – slow enough for you to feel each knuckle inside. And then they drive in again. His fingers move in, drawing each shudder from you, his eyes on your breathing, your moans, your hunger.

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