Breathe

She could hear her breathing in her ears and the pulse from her heart thudded reassuringly. She exhaled.

Catherine had everything. She was pretty, smart, witty, friendly, with a high powered job; she had it all. In fact she was very happy with her life, particularly right now, at this moment. She felt all the tension peel away from her shoulders. She rocked her head from side to side to ease her neck, and put her chin to her chest. All the knots in her stomach unwound magically. There was a calmness that was beginning to radiate out from her. Bliss.

There was a soft noise. She couldn’t make out what it was but she turned her head sharply to the right. A shadow of a smile cast itself onto her face, she was wondering what she looked like. Always well turned out for work, never showy, but smart and feminine, it made her wonder what she must look like to someone walking into the room now. Another noise. This time she couldn’t suppress a chuckle.  She did look odd. There was no point in opening her eyes –  they were blindfolded – but it was the ear defenders that seemed ridiculous to her.

She could neither see nor hear. Her arms were bound behind her back from wrist to her upper arms in the Japanese Shibari style. Her legs spread wide and held in place with a spreader bar. Not very dignified but secure. She moved her shoulders in an attempt to escape from her bonds. It was entirely useless.  Sir was an excellent rigger. He had the ability to tension the ropes just right so that she couldn’t escape (a trick that she delighted in attempting) but so that it didn’t cut off her circulation.  The bonds just hugged her and held her tight, soft against her naked skin. It was like being enshrined by some snake, but instead of fear she was able to find release and let her mind go.

That’s what people didn’t ‘get’. They saw her as strong and powerful and capable. They didn’t see her need to put all of that down, to let it go, to give the control away. Sir knew. He understood. He had worked her out from the moment they met. He could see that she needed nurturing, loving but that she was unable to willingly let someone else take over, it had to be taken…she had to be taken.

So there she stood, in the middle of the room, naked, feet and lips splayed by the spreader bar, arms bound by rope, blindfolded, and hearing dulled.

“Glorious”, he thought, “so beautiful.”

She liked the anticipation of what was going to happen next. Would she be flogged? She would almost definitely be fingered, but she didn’t know how or when. And then there was a tickle to her outer thigh, it make her jump. An involuntary noise escaped from her throat. Something soft brushed against her tummy which made her inhale and tense herself, fingers clenching, unable to do anything; she breathed out. His hand forced itself roughly between her legs, dipping his middle finger into her cunt and rubbing her G-spot. The tension inside her grew. He flicked her clit and her knees sagged. He caught her deftly by the throat and hauled her back up. They both knew that she liked to be taken and used: overpowered. Soft love and romance were not Catherine’s style.

Locking her knees again he tickled her neck, making her squirm and all the fine hairs stand up on her arms. Then there was a pause. Unable to hear, she was uncertain what was coming next. There was what should have been a gentle hand placed upon her upper arm, between the bonds. Her heart froze and fear gripped her, cold and harsh, it stalled her heart. A vampire glove. A lovely soft kidskin glove with a bed of metal spikes in the palm and extending along each finger. He never hurt her but he also knew that the thought of them petrified her. She had seen images of them used on others. Some people liked to be spanked with them until the blood flowed. That was not her kink, but she was not in a position to choose. Fear and anticipation mingled inside her.

Another tickle of a feather along her bottom. She breathed once more. A brush of a tickle across her breasts and she was relaxed and smiling again. But in the back of her mind she was still tense, waiting for the vampire glove to come again. He scratched it lightly down her left hip to her calf. Unable to move away because of the bar she squealed and panted. He ran the feather up her right thigh. She breathed faster and tried to move forward but he caught her by the ropes and raised her arms up behind her back forcing her to bend forward.

He wiped the vampire glove over her bottom and slid it up her lower back now that it was free of her arms. Catherine moaned, as much in fear as with delight. Panting hard now and sweating he fingered her roughly again. Despite all protestations that she hated the gloves, her body said otherwise; she was wet and slick and excited. They both knew what was coming. They knew that an orgasm was not the goal.

Thwack! His bare ungloved hand slapped down on her rump and again and again, causing her to wiggle and dance. She felt the heat from the sting but it was enhanced by something that she could not work out, his body heat, he must be so very close. Then he kissed her, gently and delicately on her rear.

That was the breaking point in her mind. She didn’t know what was coming next: tickling, vampire gloves, spanking or tender kisses. Her breathing laboured. She could feel herself floating, falling away. Her body was going limp but he caught her. Lying her gently on the floor, he took off the ear defenders and undid the spreader bar from her ankles. He lay there, holding her, gently untying her, leaving the blindfold in place until last.

“Shhhhhhh” he murmured. “what a good girl you have been for me. And how beautifully you have flown into subspace.”  He stroked her hair, and kissed her tenderly, marvelling at how such a beautiful, powerful, strong woman loved and trusted him so much.

Rachel

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