As she gazed out silently towards the horizon, she felt his hands encircle her waist from behind and he held her close, drinking in her scent and the damp, leafy aroma that arose from the sun-warmed trees far below.
It had been his idea to book what could only be described as a pre-wedding honeymoon. Four weeks to go until the big day, and they were spending two of them here in this isolated rainforest paradise. And, she thought, thankfully he seems to have slipped out of that distant mood that descended on him nearly two months ago. If she hadn't have known, somewhere deep inside her where she held everything she knew to be true, that he truly loved her and that spending the rest of their lives together was the only option, she'd have accused him of having cold feet. But then, he'd presented her with two plane tickets to this tropical backwater, and unless he was planning on breaking up with her here, it had to be a good sign. So, for the first time in a while, she was able to put aside her worries.
He felt her turn round in his arms and present her face for a kiss, which he gave with pleasure. The late evening heat was enough to make their clothes damp as they twined together, his hands sliding through her chestnut hair, her nipples rising and pressing against the loose cotton dress she wore. Her response enabled him to relax a little. He knew he'd been preoccupied of late, and he was heartily relieved to see that she was not holding it against him. His mood, that is. She was certainly holding her body against him right now" At the thought of that old joke, a smile twitched his lips, and she paused, drawing back to look at his face.
"What?" she asked, playfully.
"Nothing," he replied, still smiling. "Just thinking of you."
Just thinking of you" He'd been thinking of her a lot, lately.. Thinking of his fiancee kneeling in front of him. Thinking of her hands bound behind her back, her eyes blindfolded. Or spreadeagled on their bed, moaning with pleasure as he teased her tightly restrained body"
All fantasy. Every image was a product of his imagination. He'd never gathered the courage to find out if maybe she wouldn't mind turning some of them into reality. He thought he could handle missing out. But since he'd pledged to spend the rest of his life with her, he'd been plagued with these thoughts. Maybe he couldn't live without it after all. He had to find out what she thought.
She was still in his arms, slowly gyrating her hips against him in a way she knew he found unbearably erotic. Very soon, he took her hand and led her into the hut, where their unpacked luggage was piled haphazardly, her suitcase leaning against the large rucksack he'd packed and carried himself. His clothes and everything else he could need were in a large hold-all they'd packed together. Mysterious, she'd thought at the time, but didn't dwell on it. Now, she ignored it entirely as he opened the door into the bedroom and pulled her inside.
* * *
She was awakened by a kiss on her lips, and roused herself to find the bedroom filled with the grey light of pre-dawn. Despite the early hour, she'd slept the sleep of the dead and felt deeply rested. She blinked, and smiled, and thankfully accepted the glass of water he offered her.
He'd watched her for several minutes before waking her ' her tousled hair spread out on the pillow; the relaxed limbs curled around the sheets. Now, he took the empty glass from her hand and watched her expression merge into one of puzzlement. Why had he woken her? Why was he already dressed? Before she could ask, he placed a finger on her lips. She sat up in bed, silently, and waited for him to explain.
It was now or never. If he didn't go ahead, he would never find out, and if he didn't find out, he wouldn't be able to marry her. He swallowed.
"I love you," he said in a low voice. She leant forward and kissed him in acknowledgement, and his nerve almost failed. It would be so easy just to curl up into bed with her, forget about it" but no.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, holding her gaze. She frowned at the unexpected question, but answered immediately. "Implicitly."
He was acting very strangely indeed. Last night, their lovemaking has reassured her that all was well. She knew that it was only natural he should suffer from cold feet, but she'd expected something slightly more typical of pre-wedding jitters. This was weird, and it gave her the feeling that something was going to happen. She sat up in bed.
Her response had moved him to action. He seemed tense, and she felt she ought to be worried, but couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. She watched him reach down to the rucksack he'd placed beside the bed as she slept, and withdraw a length of soft, white rope.
An ominous tingle slipped down her spine as he brought both her hands together in front of her, palm to palm, and slowly, gently began to wind the rope around her wrists. He'd never done anything like this before. She watched, motionless, her hands held steadily in front of her, as he wound five, six loops around her wrists and carefully knotted the rope so it held her tight.
Their eyes met as he finished. His expression was unreadable. Feeling bizarrely, instantly aroused she pulled slightly at the rope, just to confirm she was as securely bound as it looked. She was. She felt her body tremble, just slightly, at the sensation.
He was watching her, eyes fixed on her face, waiting for her reaction. He watched her wriggle her hands, feeling the boundaries of movement, and then saw a slight smile touch her lips, and a spark light in her eyes. He knew full well what those small signs meant, and didn't need any more encouragement.
Her eyes were bright in the dim light of the bedroom. He took her bound hands and helped her to stand, slipping her naked body from beneath the crumpled sheets. Padding barefoot through the hut, he led her out onto the balcony, into the cool air of dawn. The forest was hidden beneath the spiralling tropical mists; the rising sun just barely hinted at its presence on the horizon.
The balcony was covered by the roof of the hut, which extended outwards to the edge of the platform. Reaching upwards, he looped a short piece of rope over one of the supporting beams, then lifted her hands upwards and secured them to the rope. Her feet were still resting wholly on the cool wooden floor, but the tension stretched her body upwards.
He kissed her, deeply, and felt her respond with passion. Pausing, he caught her eye and held it.
"You can tell me to stop at any time," he said, intently, and she nodded to show she understood. But she didn't tell him to stop.
Slowly, he let his hands glide down her body, feeling the slight tension in her muscles; the rise of her breasts; the intensity of her breathing. He began to kiss her skin, trailing kisses down each arm, each leg; he took her nipples in his mouth and teased them till they swelled angrily against his tongue. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed, slight sounds of pleasure occasionally swimming through the dawn air to reach his ears.
Shortly, she felt something cold against the skin on her stomach, his hands rubbing it in. It smelt of sun lotion. He slid it all over her body, massaging it into every curve, two layers, three, till she was moaning with the whole-body attention. He even lifted her feet and massaged it into the soles.
Realising she was suddenly alone, she opened her eyes to see him emerging from the interior of the hut, carrying the rucksack. With every nerve ending alive in the cool air, she begged him with her eyes to touch her again. It was so new, so intense" He was pulling another length of rope from the rucksack, much longer this time. Then he disappeared behind her.
Pushing her hair out of the way, he kissed the back of her neck, feeling the judder always produced when he caressed that most sensitive spot. With hands unused to hairdressing, he twisted her hair on top of her head and secured it there with one of her hairclips, loose tendrils falling immediately down but the majority staying put. Then he picked up the rope again.
She felt him reach round in front of her and knot a loop of rope around her chest, underneath her breasts. It was tight, but she could still breathe. The situation slipping beyond her understanding, anxiety began to leak into her mind, but with her body feeling so alive she couldn't bring herself to actively worry, still less to stop him. She stood still as he continued to wind rope around her chest, knotting it securely at many points. The rope ran underneath her breasts, and then above; then over her shoulders, across her back, between her breasts, behind her neck, so many places that she lost track and could only feel the sensation of the rope caressing her so tightly, harnessing her upper body, squeezing her breasts so they reacted to the slightest touch with fire.
Her clear skin and feminine curves looked so, so beautiful restrained by rope. He stood back, admiring and wondering, unbearably excited by her body. He'd never seen her restrained before, outside of his imagination, and he could barely believe it was happening now.
He released her hands, but didn't let them go. He gently twisted her right arm behind her back, ever so slowly pulling it upwards till her wrist was against the centre of the top half of her back, her elbow sharply bent. Working quickly, he secured it there, tying it to the rope harness that criss-crossed her back till she could only move her fingers. He heard her release a long, slow sigh at the strictness of the position. Thank god for yoga, he thought, blessing her dedication to the stretching, supple-making exercise. He repeated the manoeuvre with her left arm, tying her wrists crossed between her shoulders, fingers pointing upwards towards their opposite shoulder.
Adjusting her breathing to the difficult position, she tested her degree of movement and found none. Her chest, thrust forward by the position of her arms, pressed her breasts harder into the ropes that crossed and squeezed them. Nothing pinched, nothing hurt, but it was intense. And it was strange. It was like nothing she had experienced, nothing she had seen before. And this was the man she had known for years, the man she was going to marry. Her conscious mind was shutting down, unable to cope with the sensations, with the implications. But she couldn't tell him to stop"
He'd run a rope from the harness to the beam, strong enough to support her weight if she lifted her feet. He'd rigged it so that he could pull on the end and raise her upwards, which he did, lifting her so that she stood on tiptoe. She moaned, quietly, and he quickly moved to caress her, to reassure her. Running his hands over her bound arms and chest, he felt himself ' and her ' shiver.
The first rays of light were beginning to slip over the horizon. He quickly pulled another rope from the rucksack, and wound it round and round her ankles till there was a fat cuff of rope holding her legs tightly together. He tied her legs above and beneath her knees, too, noticing the liquid that seeped between her thighs, and gently kissed her very warm lips. Her muscles immediately tensed.
She was completely bound now; totally helpless. He stood up from his kneeling position and sought her mouth for a kiss. She barely responded at first, but eventually kissed him back, rather vaguely. He guessed her mind was too busy coping with the new sensations. He wanted to finish before the sun was up, but spent several minutes caressing her, kissing her, whispering in her ear till he was confident that she was OK.
Then he pulled on the rope and lifted her from her ground.
She let out a gasp, and began to struggle, though not in panic. As she swung gently, she felt the heat between her legs build even more. Her muscles were protesting, but not in pain. He was close to her, touching her, reassuring her.
"Please," she mouthed eventually, catching his gaze and imploring him for release, though not from the ropes. He hesitated a moment, then slowly slipped his index finger up inside her, between her pressed-together thighs, sliding easily through the hot, wet, open lips. With his finger, he pressed her g spot; with his thumb, he circled her clitoris, all the while holding her gaze. Her eyes widened; her breath grew shallower. It would only take a few seconds. As he felt her tense for orgasm, he swiftly pulled his hand away, and she whimpered in frustration.
"Sorry, my darling," he whispered. "Later."
Tears of frustration slid down her face, and he kissed them away. She gazed at him in anger, but the emotion soon faded. She was in his control ' completely, utterly in his control, and it felt ' right"
He knelt once more, this time to attach long ropes to the bindings round her legs and ankles. Each one he looped over the beam in the roof, using the same system that enabled him to pull on them to shorten them. Very slowly, watching her reactions, he began to raise her legs, pulling them up behind her, and adjusted the ropes till her ankles were bent over her thighs, suspended in a near hogtie. When her body was almost horizontal to the ground, he stopped. Her back was slightly bent backwards, her toes pointing over her head to the sky.
There she floated, gazing at the ground, drifting away with the sensations.
He moved to her head and raised it so that she was looking at him. He kissed her forehead, tenderly, and she moaned. Pulling a length of cotton from the pocket of his shorts, he gagged her with it, winding it round and round behind her head till the gathered cotton filled her mouth. Her eyes were closed now.
Pushing the last vestige of sympathy away, he looped a piece of rope over the top of the cotton gag and used it to pull her head slightly backwards, so that she was looking forward instead of down. He secured the rope to her ankles; and it was complete.
Sunshine was just now beginning to warm the balcony where she swung, and he stood. He pulled on the ropes to raise her higher, six feet from the ground. Her spine was gently curved backwards, stomach parallel to the ground, her knees bent so that her toes pointed upwards and forwards. Her arms were crossed, inverted, behind her back, pressing her breasts downwards into the ropes that held them tight. The rope round her gagged mouth pulled her head up so she was looking out at the forest, and the sunrise.
* * *
Sweat trickled down her sun-heated skin. She'd lost all track of time, long ago. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the forest laid out beneath her. Her position obscured any view of the balcony. The sun had risen, bathing her in an at first welcome warmth. But now it shone on her with its full strength, making the ropes tighten in the heat, making her head swim. Every now and then, she flexed her muscles, and the sensation of finding her body restrained so securely, so non-negotiably, sent her back down the track of orgasm, but she could never quite make it. Instead, a pre-orgasmic glow has suffused her body, running like fire through her veins.
The morning sun had burnt away the mist and now she could look down on the deep green sea of leaves beneath. The cries of monkeys and the screech of birds occasionally ascended, distorted by echoes. Sometimes, far too rarely, the air stirred and a breeze danced deliciously over her bound body.
Sometimes, she was aware of his presence, watching her. She never saw him, never felt his touch. She wanted him so badly to come and release her, to hold her, to enter her" but he was the one in control. Her life was entirely at his command. A certain peace descended on her mind, making the strain in her body, the heat of the sun, somehow bearable. How could it be that one intelligent, loving person could do this to another? How could it be that an intelligent, loving and independent woman could accept it? These weren't questions she could answer with her intellect. She just knew.
Had the sun started to go down? She thought perhaps that it had, but to be honest, not much of her conscious mind was available for the task of thinking. She was operating purely on instinct, on sensation, on emotion now.
Why had he chosen now to do this? Why hadn't he just talked to her? She understood that this was what had made him so quiet, so distant over the past weeks. Perhaps he had to show her what he needed, to share his desires with her, before the wedding. It wouldn't have been fair on either of them to keep it secret as they committed their lives to each other. But what would he do if she rejected him now? It was a big risk to take.
But these weren't conscious thoughts.
She shivered as the heat from the sun dropped by a degree or two. Sweat began to dry on her body, rather than run continually. The thick afternoon air started to give way to the cooler evening air. Her body had given up long ago; she lay unresisting in her bonds, swinging ever so slightly in the breeze. Her heartbeat; the rhythm of her breathing; this was the only reality now.
How long before he released her"?
* * *
He watched the beads of sweat form on her hot skin, and roll slowly down her limbs, hanging in drops from her breasts and stomach; pooling in the small of her back. Loose tendrils of hair were plastered to her forehead. Every so often, her muscles would ripple, and she would moan quietly into her gag.
It was amazing. She was amazing. He hadn't thought it was possible, but his love for her expanded beyond all boundaries. She was a work of art; an erotic goddess; his soulmate. Oh god, please, please let her still love me"
He wandered inside the hut, bemused by the normalcy of the rooms, his mind full of her image, hanging alone outside over the trees far below. He picked up a book, nonchalantly, and felt his feverish desire rise even higher. To be here, acting so normal, while she surrendered to his whims outside, only heightened the potency of the situation. She was, to every last nanometre, to the very depths of her existence, completely and utterly his. The power was intoxicating.
Whether she felt the same, he could only guess at. How on earth could such a vivid, independent woman feel comfortable submitting to his bizarre tastes, even for one day? He couldn't get his head around it. He knew how he felt. He knew that there were people out there who felt the same way. He just couldn't comprehend how the woman he loved, not for this, but for herself, could possibly join him.
Outside once more, he followed the shadows cast by her body as the sun slipped lower in the sky. She shivered once, and he nearly rushed to comfort her, but no ' it was not time yet.
He needed this so much. He was almost prepared to marry her without letting go of his secret, but realised it wasn't fair to keep it locked inside when he was supposed to be sharing everything with her. If he lost her, well, it didn't bear thinking about. But he'd had to try.
The sun was no more than a red glow on the horizon. He stepped towards her.
* * *
His hand touched her face, and she jumped, dragged back to the present. He was releasing the rope that held her head up, and as it went slack he supported her head with his hands, releasing it slowly to let her muscles readjust. Strong fingers massaged her shoulders, her neck.
He then returned her to vertical, releasing her legs so she hung once more like a pendulum. She was groaning with the pain of stiff limbs unbending. His hands dug deep into her knotted muscles, massaging the pain away. He untied her legs, and let her feet rest once again on the balcony floor. It felt so strangely normal against her skin, to be standing on the wooden floor again. Unreality was finally fading.
He held a glass of water to her lips, and she sipped a little, knowing she was dehydrated. Her arms were then quickly freed, and massaged back to life. The ropes binding her chest were rapidly unwound, and she was free. She sank gratefully to the ground.
He was beside her, holding her, kissing her, and her body reminded her urgently of her needs. She opened her legs, and he slid inside her. Gripping each other tight enough to leave fingermarks, twined together on the wooden floor of the balcony, she felt his immense erection push inside and after several urgent thrusts they both came, her orgasm screamed out to the night air, his groaned softly into the crook of her neck. Gasping for breath, stunned at the power of the climax, they lay silently for several minutes.
"Do you still want to marry me?" he whispered, hoarsely, holding her gaze but dreading what he might see in her eyes.
She swallowed, and took a deep breath. "More than ever," she replied, before tears began to slide down her face and her body began to quaver. "Oh god, what have you done to me?"
He gathered her quickly to him, held her tightly as her tears wet his chest and her arms clung to him as if she were drowning. He murmured gentle words in her ear, stroked her hair, tried to hold back tears himself. "Shh, darling, shh. It's alright. Everything's alright."
Slowly, her sobs subsided and she sat up, still holding on to him. He brushed damp hair from her face, and gratefully kissed the small smile that eventually emerged. She sniffed, and nuzzled against his bare shoulder, kissing his cool skin. For a long time, no one spoke.
"So... she began, hesitantly, "do you think that maybe when we get home, you could, you know" I wouldn't mind."
He looked down at her, and saw the gleam in her eye. "Of course," he replied, feeling his heart swell, "of course."
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