I sat reading in the living room. Emily had spent all day working in the wards, so she was intellectually tired and didn’t want to read. She sat on the couch opposite me, picking up a book and putting it down again, sighing loudly.
She watched and saw irritation on my face, because it’s hard to pull me out of a book, but then she saw a glint of amusement, too. That micro-expression was, in a sense, my consent.
A game had started, and Emily was no longer bored. I pretended to ignore her, but she knew I was now noticing where she was and what she was doing. I turned more pages, letting minutes pass. Finally, I said, “Emily.”
She stood in front of me. “Sir?” I was Jaime most of the time, but when there was something in the air I was “sir”.
“I want you to take your clothes off, now, Emily, and kneel.” I pointed at the carpet between my feet.
“Yes, sir.” Emily pulled off her shirt and bra, then her jeans and so on, making a point of how speedily she obeyed orders, if only someone could be bothered to give them.
She knelt, quivering naked, her hands reaching slightly behind her to touch her ankles.
“That’s very good. Good girl. Thank you.” The command style I’d evolved with Emily was excruciatingly polite. Emily, naked, was hard to ignore, but I pretended to, turning more pages more or less at reading speed. Her eyes were on me, alert for movement like a puppy watching a human with a tennis ball.
Eventually I got up and took, from a ledge, some cords that we’d bought at a fabric shop. I knelt beside Emily, taking her left hand and tying her wrist securely to her left shin, a little above her ankle. I did the same with her right wrist and right shin.
To Emily the symbolism and the sensation of having her movements restricted by bonds was important in itself. This particular tie, with her knees bent and her wrists secured to her shins, was simple but forced her to remain in a position that was unmistakably submissive, that could not have any meaning other than sexual servitude.
I pretended to read then, from time to time glancing at her. After a few more minutes had passed I tipped her forward, so that her face, shoulders, breasts and knees pressed down on the carpet, while her bottom was thrust up in the air. Emily’s ties forced her to shuffle her shoulders and knees, face pushed into the carpet, trying to find a comfortable resting place.
We’d found, in previous experiments, that when Emily was tied like that no comfortable place existed.
But her restless struggling was beautiful and sexual, and her face, as she watched me, open-mouthed, from the floor, was bright red. I knew that she was thoroughly roused. Time passed, while I pretended to read and really watched Emily shift and struggle.
Eventually I took a handful of Emily’s thick black hair and tugged her up, tilting her back up to her kneeling position. She shuffled forward, following my hand, which tugged her by her ear now, and lowered her mouth onto my lap.
I undid buttons, but precisely because Emily’s hands were tied, I left it to her to extract my cock from underpants and shirttails. She closed her teeth on my underpants and pulled.