tagBDSMChronicles of the Room 01

Chronicles of the Room 01

byManusNigrumPoet©

Story 01: A Song

The room had a lining from the clouds that settled. Not a very good circulation in here but it was disturbed as cloaked figures walked through. Slowly it would settle again and be replaced by more smoke as it was exhaled from lounging participants. Some fell into the couched lined along the walls, others laid on the floor still, no faces, just masks and the occasional glimpse of flesh. The mingling of smells caked the senses and grew stronger when approached or came close. One one side was the slowly drying sweat and drippings of fulfillment. On the other was the smell of tobacco and the different flavors it brought with it. Still under all this were sounds of passion and release, it could almost have been a beautiful concert.

A song would start again in another corner, eyes met and a smile was the intro to the song. Leading into a little playful walk through the clouds as the first stanza entered. Smiles were loosened as new instruments were allowed their lead ins and the rhythm quickened as the song progression broke into a chorus. Maybe none was to be had and the chorus skipped, but there was always the peak. Those first smiles were gone as the participants of the song peaked. The pulsing rhythm had hit its climax and all that was left of the song was a slowing down and a return to stasis. Some peaks and climaxes were longer than others and some had tried to continue their songs but it was always at an end. But some of the songs being played in this concert hall of smoke and flesh were never going to hit their peaks. It was a song designed to push but never to be released. These songs played in the back and only a few of the participants took to the stage there. But many sat in to take the song in as the players strummed and worked their steady song into small peaks and choruses.

One cloaked figure stood amongst the others, his eyes were that of fire. His hands exploring the fibers in the thick rope before him. It was threaded cotton and off white, yet it was his instrument and the onlookers sat in silence. Another figure sat before him, her exposed body already showing signs of a small rush was awaiting another one to come. He approached from behind as his fingers worked the chords and the first note in his song was played. Her arm was lifted and bend so that her hand touched the back of her neck. He started to wrap from her elbow, in time with the song he wrapped three times, then the rope was wound through the loops he had made. Back to the first note and he elbow, her arm lowered and pulled behind her. The audience watched as the musician performed his chorus. Her hands were still free and it looked as if the bindings would come off from such a tying. His chorus to show was that the rope wrapped around her hand in her palm so she could grip the rope but not free herself. The audience all gave a small response to the chorus. It was all they could to watch as he worked her other arm. The same notes played over and finished with a chorus as now both arms were bound behind her. Her hands gripped the rope as the audience watched her pushed forward by the composer of the song. The chair felt to the side and she hung suspended with her hands acting as braces for rope. The only expression on the man was his smile. His eyes glassed over with his work done and a gasp from the woman was his thanks for the release. The audience came forward with their own applause as they studied the mans work. The bound instrument for his song grinned as hands from cloaked figures touched and studied the wrapping. One felt her breast as she let her breath free with the ending of her small peak. Soon she would be release to start her song anew and the instrument that brought her joy would be undone and placed back in its case.

Audience members would join in on another song or be the instrument of another musician, but all the while, there were be many other songs played. The room would be emptied and the concert over, the cloaked figures would leave the concert emptied of their fluids and their joys. Some would stay to fix the room and let the windows exit the clouds and air the room. Others would await for one performer and show their love for the song played. But the room would eventually be filled once more and the concert would start its new songs and cloaked figures would arrive again to hear and be heard.

Report Story

byManusNigrumPoet© 0 comments/ 1885 views/ 0 favorites

Share the love

Also in this series

Tags For This Story

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
Recent
Comments
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments  - Click here to add a comment to this story

Add a
Comment

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

You may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel