Like some strange tree, I rise from the ground. I am neither ash nor oak,
but I am slender limbed, my branches reaching for the ceiling, my trunk a
gentle curve rooted by face and breasts to the polished floor beneath me.
And all the while my lover circles me. I can hear his footsteps on the tile.
I can feel his gentle touch as his fingers brush my skin.
Without a word, he stops. I groan. My limbs are bound and pulled towards the
ceiling, my wrists together behind my back, and my ankles tethered and
spread wide, while endless lines of coarse rope run and stretch and pull
along my skin, holding me in place. My shoulders ache while he watches me.
My legs tremble. My body shivers. And still he waits.
Finally, My lover kneels beside me. And reaching between breast and floor,
he grasps my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, he gently squeezes
them, caresses them, and then carefully tightens a metal clip to each one. I
suck in a breath. I close my eyes as the two pinpoints of heat radiate a
mild warmth within me. But that is not enough. Soon, I feel him pull on the
chain fastened to each clip as he attaches it to something I can’t see,
something that stretches them forward.
I try to move what little I can, and I feel the clips tighten. I pull
against them until they pinch. Shivering at the sensation, I pull them again
and again until his gentle touch stops me. I open my eyes, embarrassed for a
moment at having forgotten he was there. And now my breasts ache like my
shoulders and like the back of my neck.
But my lover is not finished, for he begins to trace the swell of a breast
with his fingers while his other hand slides up along my side. His tongue
joins in and travels in circles around my navel before pushing its tip into
the shallow well. Meanwhile, both hands continue up along my body. They
caress and pinch. They slide and circle. His body slowly rises as mine is
held down by gravity. He can taste and kiss, while I can only moan.
Soon, he is at the juncture. Rubbing my hipbones with the pads of his
thumbs, he lets his mouth wander over skin kept smooth and clean. And as his
lips reach the summit and lift from my skin, his chin follows, making a
scratchy trail over the curve and between my parted thighs, where his lips
return to greet my own.
I pull at the ropes. I struggle to close my thighs the few centimeters that
would allow me to hold his head. But I can’t. So instead I try to swing my
hips and bend my legs, anything to encourage him to burrow his tongue into
my heat and wetness. But he controls the pace, and he teases me with kisses.
Only I am not so patient as the tree he would have me be.
I let out a muffled scream. His hands have moved, quickly finding new areas
to explore. Soon, they are on my bottom. Then they slip up the backs of my
thighs and fall down the outsides before repeating the circle. My screams
have dropped back into moans. I can feel the pressure building inside me.
The tightness around my wrists and ankles has now become a tightness
spreading throughout my whole body. I strain against the ropes, knowing I
won’t go anywhere.
Suddenly, it is not enough. The tightness and the pressure flows into the
pain, sending me deeper within myself. My limbs pull and relax. My nipples
burn, and the pressure rises a little higher. My sense of helplessness in
this moment of building need saturates every nerve, every pore, and my love
for my lover swells within me. But I can go no farther on my own. All I need
is one last thing.
His tongue. With his mouth pressed against me, he burrows it into my folds,
licks across my nerves, and slides through my heat until he finds that
little hidden bundle of fire and sets me ablaze.
