No Rest for the Wicked

You walk into the room, soft heavy curtains closing behind you blocking the light from the hall. It is dim, candles providing the only light, their flickering crating more shadows than they dispel. You peer round in the gloom, noticing the deep velvet drapes hiding the windows, the soft, dark carpet underfoot. As your eyes become accustomed to the near darkness, you notice other things hanging on the wall, the things that have brought you here, the chains decoratively hung alongside the riding crop and handcuffs framed by an elegant array of leather restraints.

Standing in the gloom, you feel her presence before you see her as she steps from behind one of the curtained recesses. She is dressed for the occasion, a long, black, velvet dress skimming her figure, the sleeves coming to points over her long hands, the hem just reaching the floor. She orders you to sit on the chair near the entrance to the room and you do so as she glides round, lighting more candles and oil lamps, increasing the light and letting you get a better look at her.

She seems taller than you recall and your eyes are drawn to the hem of her dress, where you see the spiked heels of her shoes as she moves, the metal tips catching the light as she illuminates her playground. She catches you looking and smiles softly, her red lips looking inviting and wet, her smile that of a predator, never really reaching her eyes that glitter with a streak that makes you half afraid, half intrigued as to where this woman will take you without even leaving the confines of the room.

When the room is illuminated to her satisfaction, you can see more of the instruments of her work hanging on the walls, or set out on tables dotted around the room like rare antiques displayed in a museum. Ropes lie coiled, looking innocent until you think on their uses, then they become like coiled snakes in your mind. The thought of the feel of the ropes against your skin fills you with trepidation as well as heightening your excitement, knowing that this is what you have come here for. You have come to submit yourself to this woman.

You have known her for quite some time, although not like this. Normally people would never have guessed at her other occupation, her business suits during the week, t-shirts and jeans at weekends belying this figure before you. You notice her nails are as red as her lipstick, long, sharp and dangerous looking. You want to feel them on your bare flesh and feel your heart speed up as the thought arouses you. She moves towards you and you notice the slit in her skirt as it exposes a long length of her slender leg, the top of her sheer stocking making a brief appearance before it is covered by the black velvet once more. She stands before you, legs slightly apart, the slight scent of her musky perfume drifting towards you. She looks you up and down as you sit on the chair like a nervous schoolboy caught doing something naughty in class and sent to the headmistress.

"Let's skip the pleasantries" she purrs at you. Her voice is different to normal, huskier, and you feel your body responding to the silky sound, chest hair prickling against your shirt as your skin puckers with the anticipation of what is to come. You feel your groin tighten as she walks round you, trailing a finger round your collar bone and across your back, inspecting you as you sit with your hands in your lap.

"Stand and strip" she orders. "Everything off. I want to see what I have to work with".

You feel your body responding to the order automatically as you stand and start undoing your shirt. She watches you for a moment before walking away from you towards one of the tables. She pauses for a moment, looking over her shoulder at you, her eyes judging you and you wonder what she is thinking. You pause in your undressing a moment too long for her and her impatience shows as she turns towards you.

"Having second thoughts, or just being lazy?" Her voice is sharper, but still has that same low tone that makes your skin prickle and your prick stir into slight wakefulness.

"No Miss" you reply, undressing a little faster. She seems satisfied with your answer and turns back to the table, selecting a coil of rope. You keep undressing, your shirt thrown over the back of the wooden chair and you bend to undo your shoes, slipping them off, stuffing your socks in them before putting them under the chair. You stand up from this to find her stood right in front of you. You start slightly at the sight of her. She has moved so silently over to you, but you feel the thick pile of the carpet under your feet that has deadened the sound of her approach. She carries a coil of rope in her hands as well as the riding crop you noticed earlier. The crop is hanging from one finger, the strap by the handle looped over it and you can see it move as she impatiently jiggles her hand waiting for you.

You stand in front of her, just your trousers and shorts saving you from total nakedness, and wonder at yourself. She looks at you then looks down at your trousers, reminding you of what you are supposed to be doing. You can feel yourself getting harder as she looks at you and you undo your trousers sliding them over your hips, taking your shorts at the same time, and letting them fall to the floor together.

"Pick them up" she orders, and you step out of them, bending to retrieve them from the floor. As you bend, you almost feel the movement as she brings the crop across your bare buttocks, gently, just a stroke, but it makes you flinch just the same, as if she had brought her full weight behind it. You pick up your discarded clothing, folding it and placing it over the back of the chair along with your shirt.

You turn back towards her, your prick fully hard as she stands there looking at your nakedness. She smiles slightly as she sees your arousal. She steps back, beckoning you to step forward. You do so, bare feet sinking into the pile of the carpet that feels wonderfully soft, the sensation heightened by the situation. You walk forward, away from the chair, five, six, seven paces, into the middle of the room until you are almost touching her body with yours, your prick barely an inch from the black velvet before she makes you stop.

She steps away from you again, walking round you, trailing the crop around your body, across your bare buttocks again, up your back, over your shoulder until she is in front of you again, the tip of the crop resting just at the base of your prick.

"I see you shaved for the occasion" she comments, looking at where the crop is resting.

"Yes Miss, just as you ordered" you respond, having spent a good 20 minutes that morning making sure every inch of your prick, balls and pubic area were smooth and hairless. She specifically told you that you should do this when you discussed the meeting the previous day. You had spoken about many things, limits, what you expected from her, what she expected of you, and now you are here in her playroom, waiting for the next order.

She flourishes her other hand and you see a glint of silver. She produces a thick ring of steel and slides it over the head of your prick. The metal is cold on your skin and the sensation of the cold metal on your hot hardness is delicious. It is tight and you wonder what she is going to do with it. Your unspoken question is answered when she drops the coil of rope and the crop and bends slightly to hold the head of your prick as she slides the ring on further, pushing it all the way down to the base. It feels tight, but not uncomfortable and the feeling of having the warming metal sliding down your shaft with her hand holding the rest of your prick as she slides it lower is a delicious sensation, heightening your arousal.

She only holds your prick long enough to get the ring in place, then releases it, stepping back to admire the ring glinting softly around the base of your erection. You look down at it as she does, marvelling that it looks so tight yet feels so comfortable round the base, your prick looking longer, and you wonder if it is because of the ring or whether it is just because there is no hair hiding the base, the ring defining the point where your prick meets the soft flesh of your belly.

You look up at her again to see that she has retrieved the coil of rope from the floor and has doubled it over, tying a knot in the folded end, leaving a small loop. She ties another knot further down the double strands of rope, about a foot from the first knot and you wonder what this is for. You don't have time to wonder too long before she slips the loop between the two knots over your head, leaving the smaller end loop behind your neck, the long, loose ends of the rope hanging down your front, brushing against your prick. She deftly ties more knots at small intervals down the rope till she has several knots, the rope bumping against your arousal as she works. The knots go down as far as your thighs and your prick is close to her face as she works on the rope. You wish she would just turn her head a little and lick you, suck you as you stand there, but she does not.

Once she has the rope tied to her satisfaction, she stands before you again and looks at you. She has said very little and you have followed her lead. She doesn't explain the rope hanging round your neck, and you are staring into her eyes as she suddenly takes a hold of your prick, one hand sliding gently up and down the shaft for a moment before you feel the rope slipping over it. She places one of the loops created by the knots over your hardness, one knot sitting just above the base, and she loops your balls through, a knot sitting a short way behind them. She slides the rest of the rope between your legs and steps behind you.

The rope is drawn up behind you and you feel a slight tug at your neck. You realise that she is passing the ends of the rope through the loop behind you and feel the rope down your chest tighten as she pulls it through as far as she can. A knot slides between your buttocks and rests, not uncomfortably between the cheeks. You wonder what is coming as you stand there, but she steps round in front of you and reaches behind you, under your arms, pulling the loose ends of the rope round to the front from either side of you, sliding the ends through between the top two knots on your chest and pulling them all the way through. You feel the rope over your neck tighten slightly and the knots between your legs shift as she pulls.

Moving round behind you again, you feel her tugging on the rope ends, but you can't see what she is doing. You just feel it getting a bit tighter and you can feel the ropes moving through each other as she works behind you. Soon she is in front of you, repeating the process one set of knots further down. As she works down, the rope between the knots opens into diamond shapes down your front, the whole thing becoming increasingly tight as she works. The rope round your genitals tightens and grips you even more as she works, the knot behind them sliding up towards the base, bunching your balls behind it, and the knot between your cheeks moving slightly with each passing of the ropes round your chest. The last pass of the ropes goes through the ropes round your prick, and you feel her hands cool against the heat of your erection as she works. You realise then that you are more aroused than you thought possible without having sex, your prick straining against the ring, the tightness of the metal and the ropes almost completely trapping the blood in your erection, making you harder.

As she pulls these ropes apart, the diamond forming round your genitalia, the knot between your cheeks moves to rest on your sphincter, sending a delicious chill up your spine. You didn't expect something like that to feel so good, and you feel slightly ashamed that the feeling of something pressing into your arse has this effect on you. You wonder for a moment if this feeling is normal for a heterosexual male with no gay tendencies and you panic slightly, your eyes raising up to meet hers. You notice the amused look in her eyes and know that she is fully aware of what you are thinking.

"You like that, do you?" she enquires with a slight smile playing on her lips. You don't answer, feeling yourself blush and she smiles more. "It's OK, it's perfectly normal to like it. It's just you guys have a tendency to avoid having your arse played with in case people think you are gay. As you can feel, it's an interesting sensation, and quite pleasurable once you get over the initial shock of finding another erogenous zone." She laughs softly, an amused laugh that has you smiling as well, your embarrassment lessened by the though of it being OK to like the knot resting where it is.

She finishes her work of tying you into what you later discover is a Japanese Rope Harness, tying the ropes off behind your back leaving a tail that hangs down behind you, brushing the back of your knees which tickles slightly. She walks towards another low table and beckons you over to her. You walk slowly over, the rope work pulling into you slightly as you move, the knot on your arse moving slightly and sending more shivers up your spine and down your prick. The table that she has beckoned you over to has more ropes on it and she selects another. She walks round you, looking at you critically, and you can see her wondering what to do with you next.

With the rope she has selected, she moves behind you, trailing her nails over your belly and catching one of your wrists in her hand as she does. She pulls the wrist behind you not unkindly, and you feel her wrap the rope round your wrist a few times before you feel it tighten slightly as she knots it. She reaches round you and grips your other wrist, pulling it beside the other, tying it in the same way, using the long end of the rope she has already bound your other wrist with. The rope isn't tight, but you know you won't be able to slip out of it and you know you are now almost completely in her power. Only your feet are free, but you have a feeling that they won't remain so for too much longer.

You can feel her behind you, still working with the rope and you feel it coiling round your arms, pulling them together. Your thoughts go back to when you first saw the ropes, imagining them as snakes, and now you feel the constrictor winding it's way up your arms, binding them behind you, pulling your shoulders back, straining your chest against the fetters she has already put in place. The feeling is an interesting combination of imprisonment combined with the erotica of being in this woman's power and you like it. You look down at your prick marvelling at how hard it is, the candlelight glinting off the jewelled drop of pre-cum resting on the tip.

As you lose yourself in the glint of candlelight, marvelling at how aroused you are without any of the usual precursors to this level of excitement, she finishes knotting the ropes round your arm, and you are oblivious to her movement, hypnotised by the jewelled drop as it moves rhythmically on the tip of your prick, your heartbeat pumping it in gentle movement. She watches you for a moment, before bringing you back to the present with a finger under your chin raising your head to look into her eyes. Her other hand dips to the end of your prick, gently wiping the drop off the end onto her finger. She raises this finger up between you and you can see the glistening smear over her fingertip. She smiles as she raises it to her lips and you shiver involuntarily as her tongue darts out from between her white teeth and tastes the liquid on her finger.

You are caught unawares as she moves again. "Stick your tongue out" she orders and you do so, opening your mouth and sliding your tongue out, wondering what she is going to do. She slides the finger she has just half-licked over your tongue and you taste yourself on there. A slightly sweet taste with just an edge of salt and you blush again when you realise that you like the flavour of yourself. You look up again from your blush and see her smiling, and realise that this is just like the rope pressing on your arse: another sensation that you have denied yourself in case you are seen as gay. She knows better though, and sees it as something that you have needed to try for a very long time, but have resisted. Now she has the power to make you try all these things and you both know it. The knowledge is erotic and arouses you more.

She turns away again, pulling a chair with a broad seat and tall, slim back towards you.

"Sit" she orders you again, and you do so, gently, feeling the knot in your arse pressing further into you, not uncomfortably but pleasurably. She guides your arms over the back of the chair so your back is resting on the laddered backrest, with your arms behind it. She pushes your feet apart with the toe of her shoe, another slit of stockinged leg coming into view as she does so and hiding again just as fast: a swift glimpse that you would have missed had you not been looking at her legs as she moved your feet. Your eyes skim up over the contours of the dress, skin tight against her form, outlining her, hugging every inch of her and you realise that she is not wearing a bra, her nipples erect against the fabric making two exclamation points to her own arousal at having you like this.

Before you have a chance to stare at this evidence of her own private enjoyment, she has moved away again, pulling two more ropes from the table close by. She kneels before you, almost between your feet and you once again long for her to bend, open the scarlet slash of her mouth and take your prick in whole, rubbing her tongue over it. The thought of her sucking on you makes your balls tighten slightly and you feel their movement, fettered as they are, against the wood of the seat base. Another drop of pre-cum appears on the tip of your prick and you long for her to share it with you again, but she has other things on her mind.

She bends toward your knees, a stray lock of hair escaping from the tight chignon that she has piled her hair into for the occasion brushing against your skin. You feel her tie your ankle to the outside of the chair leg, binding it up almost to your knee before tying the end off, and then repeating the process with the other leg. You are now fully bound: arms, legs torso, prick, all tied with the same care and dedication. You are there, legs spread, displaying your arousal to her, more pre-cum slicking the tip of your hardness, sliding over the head and tickling slightly as it moves down the curve and smearing itself on your belly where your prick is resting, your heartbeat movement raising and lowering your prick from it's resting place slightly, sticky strings of your arousal joining the tip to your belly as it moves.

Standing again, she looks over her handiwork and nods almost imperceptibly. She seems satisfied with the ropes binding you, immobilising you and leaving you completely at her mercy. You watch her as she moves around, looking at you from every angle before coming to stand in front of you once more, this time with her legs slightly apart, the riding crop back in one hand, the other hand holding an odd item that you cannot identify. It is a black bar, with a very dull sheen to it, two large rings on either side, with a leather strap on either end, one with holes in, the other with a buckle on it. She takes this and rubs the black bar on the tip of your prick, and you can feel that it is rubber as she smears your pre-cum over it. The feeling of it rubbing over your prick is erotic, arousing and a small moan of pleasure escapes your lips. You move slightly against it, feeling the knot in your arse pressing and moving as you do, the rubber moving against you as you move to rub your prick on it more. She pulls it away and you keep moving for a moment, savouring the feeling of your arse being pressed against. You realise that you have closed your eyes and you open them again.