poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

Orange

The look on her face was almost serene. I had never seen her experience this, never seen this play before.

Yes, I had heard about it. It was a scene she was known for, a class she had given before but never was I able to attend.

As I sat so close to her, watching it all unfold, I felt a wave of appreciation flow over me. She shared this amazing experience with all of us, this place she did not always go to, a depth few are willing or able to achieve.

I sat close to the front so I could see it all. Her face. The rope work. Her body’s reactions. The room grew quiet quickly, taking on an almost ritual-like feel as the scene unfolded.

It started slowly, methodically. First, the chest harness, binding her arms back. Not comfortable; that was not the intention of the scene. A line secured to the box tie was thrown up and tied tight, lifting her frame up. She could only stand on her toes.

Next, the meanest part: her crotch rope. Coconut rope. It was to be a gift from the scene. Tied tightly, going into the creases of her thighs, then through her vulva, knots both on her clit and in her cunt. Cinched so that there was no give.

A line tied to the side of her crotch rope, looped above her head, back down to the other side of the crotch rope, back up and secured. There would be no ease. This was never meant to be easy.

A cuff on her right ankle. The rope stretched out to the side. Her leg up in the air. Her body off balance, trying to hold on. Pushing herself further. How long would she last?

A cuff around her left thigh. It was time. The line went up. She was lifted completely off the ground. She floated in the pain, the pain visible on her face, in her body, the twitching muscles, the breathing. Still, she endured.

A vibrator placed on her pussy. Could the pleasure make the pain worse? (It did.)

Her breathing changed. Her voice warbled. She called out as she came, the pleasure mixing with the pain. How much longer would she last?

She asked for the vibrator to be taken away. (It was.)

But then her thigh was lifted more. You could see it. It was almost time.

And then it happened. She called it.

They took her down slowly. They released her bonds. The crotch rope was the worst.

She’d done it. She pushed herself, pushed her body and mind to a place we, the attendees of the class, were so very grateful to witness, a scene we were so very grateful to see.


Categorised as: Gray | Grue | London | Rope | Slut



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