I watch you both from afar. I am sat in a large leather armchair. You clearly have a strong unspoken bond with her; the electricity generated as I watch, as you truss and tailor the restraints, to the legs of the solid wooden polished table or bench. Her legs bent at the knee which dangle down; soft ropes lash around her ankles and wrists, her breasts bound too; as her body is held static, tight to the table.
Your strong hands work quickly whipping the rope around her limbs and you stand back admiring your work; checking she's ok; no undue discomfort.
I watch as you reach for clips and toys; a leather flogger; a pinwheel - just in case they might be needed. No compulsion.
I'm mesmerised; she's beautiful. Soft, voluptuous, sensual, open now, yearning.
I look to you. "May I...?" You nod silently. And you move to sit in the seat I vacate.
You watch as I cross the room; wearing black satin underwear, nothing else.
I approach her. Drinking in the sight of her. "You're beautiful" I whisper.
I love every part of her real raw body. I walk around the table. Her dry heels from a summer in flip flops; the blemish on the second toenail; scuffed but not noticeable until close; hairs just behind her knees were the razor missed. The mole on her thigh, the modest stripes of stretch-marks from motherhood; her pelvis proud, her tummy button, deep, alluring. Her breasts fall gentle and heavy; nipples large dark pronounced.
Collar bone; and jaw; pierced soft ears. Her lips full, kissable, pink and soft. Above her head, her arms stretched; wrists taute; the veins run through her elbows tracing a dark purple green line to her hands, neat shorted painted nails, papery skin aged but not old.
