You are so lovely…
…Standing in the water before the ocean in fading daylight. Backlit by sunset – silhouetted yet shining; wrapped in shadow, but radiant. A powerful figure. You are delirium incarnate. You are a tangible, animate hallucination of subconscious desire. The appeal of you is elusive, but at the same time quite obvious. The thought of you, the substance of you, everything is fascinating.
Yours is an unearthly beauty unbecoming a mundane human. Your draw is like siren’s song – different to the eyes and ears of all who experience them. You are so lovely, so soft. Dark, curled hair flows past your shoulders like serpents attempting to return to the water. You are beautiful, naked, and happy. Something about this place turns you on. Casual nudity mixed with the smell of saltwater and smoke takes you back to a certain time in your life.
Gulls and other seabirds call out and complete the scene. The sun is setting though, and the tide is coming. You know you should get out of the water. While you move through the picturesque, blue ocean, your swimwear becomes increasingly frustrating. It bunches, it twists. Soon you are quite tired of adjusting your top just so you don’t fall out of it. Your annoyance reaches a critical mass, and you simply undo the knots which hold it up, and let it fall off your beautiful body, and drag it through the water on your way back to the beach, naked…
You are tantalizing…
And you are irresistible. You are wanted, desired, and needed. Everything about you is enticing. You are alluring in the extreme. The blazing sunset turns the drops of water that cling to your skin into beads of amber.
Your scent on the wind is intoxicating – a powerful drug which induces virulent desire. It mixes with the aromas of spilled wine, the ocean, and the salty smoke of burning driftwood. This is the smell of a party gone right.
The sun hovers lazily above the horizon as it approaches sleep. As it relaxes, it sets the sky ablaze and dangles its reflection into the water, playfully splashing you in the eyes with its light. The reflection flickers with the movement of the waves, lending it a beauty not unlike candlelight. The juxtaposition of imagery makes you smile. Your smile is just spectacular. Even when you just curl the corners of your mouth, its beautiful. When you really smile, everything lights up. Without a doubt…
You are a tease.
Wanting you is a normal thing to do. The most intuitive thing to do, even. You know that, though. You like to show off, and you like to flirt. It’s one of a long, long list of things that make you so enchanting. You are incredible… At everything. At kissing, at fucking. You feel incredible. The surface of you, the depth of you. The warmth of you, and your wetness. Your tongue is a wonder and so are the magnificent things you do with it.
Your skin, your touch, your voice… All of you is truly amazing. It’s like you know everything. A master of disguise, a master of seduction, and a master of sex. Seeing you move is a vacation from the world’s gracelessness, and watching you perform is paradise.
Tonight is going so well. This is what you’ve been waiting for. This is what you need, and what you want. You deserve it. You are amazing at sucking, fucking and talking. You are very sexy, and so fucking smart. You are surprising and impressive in all the best ways, at all the right times. You could bend anything you wanted to your will, and you should use that. You have power here.
You are attainable, but just this once – just for tonight. You’re surrounded, but in control. The sunset is blocked. You see what you want to, and it stares right back at you. It looks at you from all angles as though it is scrutinizing you, examining you…
You are the object of desire.
You are wanted, passionately. Lusted after by all the world around you. Your very presence evokes the anticipation of satisfaction, and the sight of you reroutes the flow of blood. The image of you burns naturally into the mind, and fires the imagination.
The scent of flame mixing with the nautical breeze catches your attention. The waxy smell of burning wick quickly gives way to a tart, tangy smell which plays at stinging the nostrils, but leaves them unharmed. Citronella and salt are all that can be smelled now.
The whole beach wants to be with you. The whole world wants you. You are the center of attention, and the object of obsession. You are confusing. Alluring. A sexy mess of overwhelming stimuli which provoke unexpected reactions, and erotic, passionate, romantic desires… It is impossible to not want you, and you are so easy to fall for.
You are stunned, when it begins. Not confused of course, just stunned. Despite what you thought, you are unprepared, but you recover your wits quickly enough. You don’t struggle, and you don’t fight. You aren’t looking for escape. This is what you came for.
There is a flurry of movement. It is not possible to see everything that’s happening right now. There are many textures, too. You can identify them all – silk cord, nylon, manila, climbing rope. Next time you should bring your own. Some of these aren’t very nice, but they definitely work. An intelligence capable of tying knots such as these would not have come with what it has unintentionally. You are distracted for a moment, as another knot cinches around your core, and before you even really notice it…
You are restrained.
Tied up. You can’t move more than a few inches. You’ve never been immobilized like this before. Wrapped in rope from fists to shoulder. Your arms are lashed together wrist to wrist behind your back, your fingers tightly interlaced. The knot binding your ankles ties back to them, holding you precariously in place – your back locked rigidly upright and your perfect ass cradled in the arches of your feet.
You knees hurt from kneeling. You’ve been here for so long… Been waiting for so long, yet moving your body is a dangerous proposition right now. When you move more than what feels like a centimeter you can feel knots tighten the lines across your chest. Cords tighten around your breasts, and you gasp, starting feel yourself start to lose your balance.
Pause. Something steadies you, but you’re not sure what. Hair whips you in the face as you quickly turn your head to see what was behind you. It’s gone now. The music and bonfires are just down the beach. Very distracting. Holding position is of paramount importance. You must behave if you want to stay upright. Be good…
You are growing impatient.
Tick, tock. This is taking a while, and you are developing an itch. Metaphorically, of course. You’ve waited patiently long enough. You are biting your lip a little, and your eyes are darting about your surroundings. The beach is bathed in the hellish red glow of sunset mixing with firelight. The entire atmosphere is burning in the glare.
You feel so good, but you want it so bad. You’re starting to develop an actual, physical itch, though. Irritating, obnoxious frustration is creeping in, and beginning to set. Now there’s another. You can’t scratch them no matter how much you might want to. If you try to reach you would only compromise your balance.
Deep breaths. ‘Take deep, slow breaths.’ You remind yourself over and over. The shaking inside you returns to a soft quivering as you slowly regain yourself. Ignoring the discomfort is a challenge, but one you are eager to accept. All you need is the slightest distraction, when suddenly…
You are being touched…
Everywhere. You feel the warmth and grip of flesh not your own. It is working its way over you. All over your body. You don’t even know how many there are, at this point. You are such a turn on. This is such a turn on. The light sensation of feathers on your breasts contrasts with a sharp slap of your ass, and a grasping of your throat.
Pressure closes in around your neck from both sides, leaving only the narrow front of your throat free. Breathing is not yet inhibited. It could be soon though, and you know it, so you take the opportunity to calmly breathe, brightening your erythrocytes as much as is possible. With hyperoxygenated blood and brain, you ready yourself for what comes next.
You like this, but you are nervous. Nervous about not knowing exactly what is coming, and about what it means for you. In a subtle way, you are confused by the paradox of taking control by giving up control, but you are doing your best to ignore it, as part of your effort to enjoy more and analyze less. Learning about the other side is… compelling. You are fascinated by everything that’s happening. Fascinated arousal is an interesting experience, and one which you have missed. In a moment, the sensation changes…
You are in pain.
Something is hurting you. Beyond the strain of the ropes there is another sort of pain. This is not normal pain, though. This is fun. You were wet before, but now you are dripping. You are being scratched by something sharp… Nails, claws… tools? Who can say? They rake across your back hard. You feel no warmth from this touch except the warmth of your blood rising to the skin in their wake.
You want this, but you are scared. The slow, steady increase in pain translates immediately into escalating fear. There is a bit of you that is not quite sure what will happen or when it will stop, and, quite predictably, that bit suddenly turns on the rest of you.
Anxiety is getting the best of you. The sounds of anticipation and enjoyment coming from all around you are alarming, even disturbing for a moment. What you see surrounding you is alluringly intimidating. What you see approaching you is threateningly beautiful. Before you learn any more, the sharp sensation rakes back across your back, asking you to enjoy it. With practice though, reprocessing pain as pleasure is becoming second nature.
The surprise knocks you off balance, and you collapse to one side. As you fall, the ropes tighten and twist against your naked skin. Dry sand splashes against the side of you as it puffs up into the air. For a moment, you stay there, waiting for help. The second you think you might be left there, you are roughly helped back to your knees, and your bindings adjusted.
There is a lot of night left, and you have a lot left to do. Tasks to complete, and debts to pay. Slowly, you are regaining your confidence, and with it your composure. Fading light gives way to thickening darkness as you return to work on the task at hand. Cloaked in darkness, the last of your reservations slip away. Night has fallen…
