The rope bit into her soft flesh. It gnawed and rubbed reminding her always of its presence. Her legs were singing in distress -made to remain in the same position for several hours, her muscles burned.
The gentle licks of pain reminded her of the inferno in her belly. Fueled by an overwhelming need to be shown her worth in bruises, marks and bondage, she revelled in the ache of her submission.
She loved the look in His eyes when He was waiting for her rope in hand ready to bed her down for the night. It was a look of warm amusement with a little glint of playfulness.He was never harsh, never wrapped the rope around her too tightly. He did it with care and concern for His possession.
She sat on the bed with her wrists and ankles together waiting for the caress of the rope. It always made her beam with happiness and her heart quickened.
The last piece of her bedtime ensemble was her leash. As He grabbed the end ready to attach it to her collar, she always tilted her head to the left and bowed her neck. She knew it would make it no easier for Him to attach her leash but her body did it of its own accord. It was a ritual that was part of her body and soul.
Once her breathing leveled out and she had her excitement at being ‘trussed up’ for the night under control, sleep came quickly.She always slept fitfully wrapped in her bonds.The links of the chain were cool against her cheek and after a few little tugs to test the security of her bonds, she drifted off. She would sometimes wake when He came to bed, comforted by His presence. And as she felt his hands check hers for warmth and circulation she smiled to herself.He could but wouldn’t hurt her.
To sleep perchance to dream….