I tugged Qing’s right foot over the the edge of the bed closest to the wall, and ran the rope twice around her ankle, then tied a knot. It wasn’t a Shibari knot, or anything even remotely elegant in one of the Japanese bondage styles.
It was an ugly but effective knot I’d learned while I worked on garbage trucks to earn some money for my first year at university. I don’t even know what it’s called, but anything I tied with it would stay on the truck.
Once I’d tied Qing’s foot she tugged at the ropes, experimentally at first, then trying harder to escape. As I said, it’s an effective knot. I tighted the rope at the end connected to the bed, so she soon had little room for movement any more. Her struggles when she understood what I’d done were more determined; I knelt beside her foot and watched the muscles in her ass and her upper thighs flex and un-flex.
Her cunt sometimes seemed to open a little with her effort. So it seemed from my perspective, looking up at her from between her ankles, admiring her buttocks and that sweet little slit. Her display was beautiful, and reminded me how much I wanted to fuck her again.
That’s the thing about writhing about. If your partner is any good with rope at all, it’s not going to get you loose. On the other hand, you will be turning him, or her, on. So it’s excellent for getting you fucked enthusiastically, but doesn’t have many other uses.
But she was passive and complaisant as I took her left foot and pulled it over to the left side of the bed. That made sense: she never tried to escape, only to to struggle against her bonds after I’d tied her.
Once her left ankle was secure, and I was confident the knot would stand up to anything Qing’s slender legs, now widely spread, would manage, I left her go.
She pulled against her new bonds, twisting her upper body while her legs and feel remained tightly held and immovable. She was experiencing and demonstrating, emphatically, her sexual helplessness. Because I am who I am, that made me hard and pitiless. I like helplessness, and I love female wriggling. Especially if it has urgency, as Qing’s did. I’d untie her if she asked, but it’d be boring. I hoped she wouldn’t. In my mood I wanted to believe that I could take what I wanted.
I came up the bed a little and smacked her bottom again, so she knew where I was. I tied her wrists and hands together, behind her back as I’d promised her. Her struggles inspired in me the affection with which a lion watches a lamb. She’d fall still and rest every thirty seconds or so. She didn’t have a lot of strength, or stamina.
I slipped two fingers into her slippery wet cunt, and Qing lifted her bottom in surprise and then pleasure, clear of the bed. She had little freedom of movement but I knew that control of her cunt, which I had, meant control of any movements she did make, and of her breathing.
My finger were making her breathe hard and fast, close to orgasm, when I rolled onto her back, my cock pushed against the feminine softness of her ass and my knees between hers. My toes and knees pressed into the bed, just like hers. I let her feel my weight on her. and smacked the side of her bottom. Qing’s skin was pale in the night air, but she was warm for my hands.
Her eyes widened when my hand landed, and she celebrated or complained about the pain with a little vocal noise that sounded a bit like a hiccough. I smacked her three more times. The spanks weren’t hard, but they meant Qing had experienced something new: she’d had an adventure. Then I kissed the back of her neck.
Qing smiled, and I remembered the lion-and-lamb metaphor again. I bit her neck, then kissed the spot better. My cock pressed against her, just above her cunt.
I growled in her ear: “Get your ass up” – another smack – “girl!”
“Wha’ you say? Jaime, it’s funny; I don’t seem to mind you spanking me… How weird is?”
“I’m going to fuck you now, Qing.” But since she’d mentioned it, I smacked her left flank, just below my own thigh.
While Qing dealt with the pain, small but enough to be worth paying attention to, I bit her ear and kissed it. I thought I might as well: it had worked for her neck.
“You’re going to get your ass up so I can fuck you. Now.”
“Ah… Why do you want..?” I missed the significance of her question. I thought I’d been clear enough, so this must be more Qing-delaying tactics. So I smacked her, and she dropped her question.
I smacked her again. “So I can fuck you, Qing. Why else? Now,” – I gave her a taste of my command voice – “get that ass UP.”
I waited.
“[Writhing about is] excellent for getting you fucked enthusiastically, but doesn’t have many other uses.”
Getting fucked enthusiastically sounds like an excellent effect. I can’t imagine why one would need any others.
Well, you can pretend to be trying to escape from your dreadful predicament. That’s always fun.
But I think I could watch writhing for quite a while, though eventually other enthusiastic desires would take precedence.