Before I dive back into our story – today is Love Our Lurkers Day, when we invite our readers who visit but don’t comment to step out and say “hi!” I would love to meet you!
Now, back to our story…
For a moment, Sofia panicked. She was going to take her dress off? Maybe Lucas didn’t even want to her to! But he said, “Good. Brave girl,” and she felt relief – followed by another moment of panic – oh my god, now she had to take her dress off.
Lucas grinned as if he could see the emotional roller coaster she was on. “Come here,” he said, and led her behind a small screen at the back of the stage. He turned his back to her, adding, “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Carefully, she pulled the dress off, grasping it at the bottom and pulling it over her head, trying to be careful of her hair. Then she wasn’t sure what to do with it, so she just stood there awkwardly holding it until finally she said, “I’m ready.” Lucas turned and took the dress, hanging it over the top of the screen.
Sofia hesitated, suddenly aware of every flaw in her body. Skin blemishes. Extra fat in places she didn’t want it. Wrinkles. She was so glad she’d bought the lacy corset though! At least she had cute underwear, she thought, and took some consolation from that.
Lucas took a step closer. Delicately, he touched the edge of the top of the flimsy lingerie. His finger brushed her skin as well, and she bit her lip, acutely aware of his touch. “Pretty,” he said, and she relaxed.
“If you want to stop at any point, just say so. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she said, and again, she wanted to add Sir, and didn’t.
“I expect you to tell me if anything is uncomfortable, if you feel any tingling or numbness, or if anything hurts. Nothing I’m going to do today should hurt. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she said, “That’s clear,” but this time she couldn’t resist, and “Sir,” slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She hoped he hadn’t heard her, or that he wouldn’t comment on it. But he smiled.
“Yes. It’s good to address me as Sir for now. Of course I’m not your Sir,” he added, “but there is always some power exchange with bondage and I’m glad you’re able to acknowledge it. I won’t misuse your trust.”
She was dismayed to realize that his words brought tears to her eyes. She could feel herself moving into a more submissive frame of mind and was aroused and didn’t know where the tears were coming from, and once again, she knew this man was dangerous.
Before she could respond – not that she had any idea what she would have said – he took her by the hand and led her around the screen to the front of the platform. As he began to unwrap the hank of rope, stroking her skin with it, talking softly, she felt as if he were spinning a web around her. The rope was hypnotic and his voice was soothing. She forgot there was an audience, forgot there was anything except Lucas and the rope.
The rope wrapped her, behind her neck… around her shoulders, then her chest. Encircling her, above her breasts… crossing her body… below her breasts… As if the rope hummed as Lucas pulled it across her skin, loosely first, then taut… lifting her breasts. Snug, secure…
Her waist, the rope encircled her waist, and he passed it through her legs, directing her to open her legs a bit wider. Some part of her mind knew there were people watching, knew that Lucas was standing so that she was on display. But it was his rope on display, his skills revealed. The rope, pulled tight against her pussy, almost too tight, it pressed against her if she moved, and he tugged on it once, making her whimper with pleasurepain.
He smiled, “Sweet,” he said, and pulled on the rope again.
It seemed to go on for a very long time, but when he stopped, she felt it was not long enough. He took a step back; she felt chilled where he had been standing. His body heat no longer warmed her.
He stood behind her, “Pretty,” he said, and she felt his breath on her neck. “Very pretty.”
She kept her eyes downcast, smiling to herself, as he described the ties he had used, answered questions about knots and types of rope work. She felt pleased, proud even. She was acutely aware of the rope touching her. Containing her.
He turned her to face him, displayed the back – her back, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. She was – her thinking was blurred, she knew, but it was a lovely, float-y way to feel, and for a second she imagined a sign saying “Sub-Space” pointing at her. She smiled.
He lifted her chin, looking into her eyes, which broke the spell a bit, and she shivered. He turned her to face the audience again, as they clapped.
Then he was unwrapping her, and the rope seemed to sing over her skin, whirring as he pulled it off. Each time a part of her was uncovered, she felt a sense of loss, and when the last bit of rope caressed her and was gone, she could have cried. Her knees buckled and for a second, she thought she would fall, but Lucas steadied her with an arm around her waist.
She felt bereft. Un-tethered and a bit lost. She mentally shook herself, thought, “don’t be ridiculous,” and felt a bit better.
Lucas said, “I’m going to wrap you up now,” and he did. Draping a blanket around her, he led her to a chair. Mandy brought her a bottle of water, unscrewing the lid before handing it to her. Sofia drank half the bottle and sighed.
Lucas crouched in front of her. “Are you ok?” he asked, making eye contact.
She felt a bit float-y still, but, “Yes,” and nodded, “Yes, I am.”
He watched her face a minute, then, apparently satisfied stood up. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”
She half watched as he moved around the stage, picked up his rope and stowed it away in his bag. Mandy brought her dress and Sofia thanked her, thinking it seemed like a complicated process to put it back on.
So she sat quietly, remembering the feel of the rope around her body. She touched her shoulder. The rope had left its mark on her skin, and that made her smile. She could feel it, like a welt, “only it goes in,” she thought, “it’s not raised.” She wondered if there was a word for that.
People talked and moved around her. In other parts of the room, there was flogging and she heard the crack of a whip, some one cried out. She smiled, content to be where she was, waiting.