The beauty of the rope is something which never fails to amaze me. How such a gentle coil of a most unthreatening soul can develop into an amazing piece of artistry.
Lay me back on the bed, gather the rope and gently tease my skin with it and I begin to slip away, deep inside there is another me that only the delicious restraints of rope can ignite. The softness of it slowly making its way around my arms winding itself closer and closer to my wrists.. when it reaches my wrists my arms entwined in its beauty ..
A sudden jerk..
Such a sudden jolt runs through out my whole body, but it does not rouse me from my altered state it awakens a little more of my submissive soul. My wrists bonded together force my hands together in a paradoxical illusion of a prayer.. I hear you move and the rope grazes my cheek, forcing me lean against it in desire. I keep my eyes clamped tightly shut, the room is silent apart from your breathing and carefully orchestrated movements, I loose a little more of my outer being and slip into the soul.
You know the changes in me are beginning my body is softer, more pliable and that look of total serenity slides over me like a mask.
The rope continues along its journey around each ankle.. no longer do I fear my exposure I feel safe and secure, the bizzare security the sensation of rope against my skin evaporates the fears.
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