We’re 8 and a half hours into #Smutathon2017 and I promised when we hit £700 that at £750, I’d share an extract from the story I’ve been working on in between blog posts. We were stuck at £745 for a couple of hours but our latest generous donor has given £100. Therefore, here is an extract from my work in progress. This takes place at a rope workshop on the first morning of ‘FetCon,’ a fictional BDSM/fetish conference.
Meet Allie and Libby…
‘God, I want to fuck you when I’ve got you like this,’ Allie growled into Libby’s ear. She twisted the rope in her fingers, eliciting a squeal of pleasurable pain. Libby was now nude except for her knickers, hog-tied on her front, arms in a reverse-prayer position behind her back and totally immobilised. Allie felt her cock twitch beneath her yoga pants. She could smell that Libby’s cunt was already starting to drip.
Libby let her face sink into the mat, relaxing into the rope as her body accepted the strain of the position and the tightness and slight scratch of the hemp against her skin. She breathed in the scent; a combination of natural fibres, sweat and lust that was found in – and only in – every rope room she’d ever been in. When she was in Allie’s ropes, everything else faded away. Nothing but the moment mattered.
Allie dared to trail her fingers across Libby’s arse and between her legs. Libby gasped and trembled, fighting in vain against the rope to push back onto Allie’s teasing, feather-light touch.
‘Oh, you want more?’ Allie murmured into her girlfriend’s ear. ‘You’re a little slut, aren’t you? Trying to hump my hand in a room full of people?’ Libby whimpered as the teasing hand was withdrawn. ‘Well, you’ll have to wait. We’ve got hours and hours left before I’m going to fuck you. If you’re lucky.’
Libby’s soaking cunt protested as Allie pulled her hand away. She writhed against the rope to no avail. Damn, but this woman knew how to get her into subspace in two minutes flat. Her whimper was rewarded with another twist of the rope, making it cut into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
‘Okay, everyone!’ The presenter – Mark, she thought his name was, Allie had quietly called him a ‘Domly Dom’ – called to the room. ‘Time to start untying your partners, and we’ll talk about how that went and move on to the next tie.’
As Allie slowly untied the ropes, she dragged them across Libby’s skin, allowing her to feel every inch of the fibre. Just when she’d untied a rope, she would wrap it around a different body part again suddenly and pull it tight, making Libby gasp. When the last length was tangled on the floor beside them, Libby relaxed into Allie’s arms and marveled at the way this woman could reduce her to a puddle with nothing but her ropes, hands and voice.