Page 109 of Gideon
One eyebrow lifted as he looked at me. My mouth hung open at the sight of him before I realized what he was waiting for. I fixed my stance, standing with feet shoulder width apart, my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes lowered.
“Beautiful,” he praised. I could feel his gaze on my naked flesh, looking me up and down, though I could not see it. “Are you ready?” he asked me firmly. I did not speak, choosing to only nod my head.
“Good. Follow me.” His words were crisp, not curt or cruel. I followed him back to the bedroom, noting immediately that the lighting was dim. He had turned on the bedside lamps, which painted the room in a golden glow versus the harshness of the overhead lighting.
There was a gentleness here, a safety in the room that I felt I was only now truly picking up on. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I left myself at the door. I left all the trauma. Left all the heartache. The uncertainty and the longing for a new life were all left on the other side of our bedroom door. I entered this room fresh and clean, wearing no hats of the women I was expected to be. I came forward with this man I called Sir as only his submissive, the woman he chose and the woman who chose him.
He walked around me in silence, taking a few hanks of rope from his bag and bringing them over to me.
“Tonight I want you to feel… well, everything. In particular, I want you to feel the different sensations rope can give,” he began, his voice low and sultry. There was a sort of inaudible thrum that filled the room, a sexual tension that was rising slowly and sensually between us. It filled every part of the room, growing with every inhale, enhanced with every exhale.
“I own three different kinds of ropes. Nylon, which you have felt,” he began, running the vibrant blue threads against my skin.
“It’s so smooth,” I breathed out as I shivered, throwing him a smile.
“It is. This one is jute.” He ran the uncolored fibers against the other arm, the rough, twisted material almost scratching against my skin.
“And the final one is hemp. It’s my personal favorite,” he explained, dropping the other two hanks on the bed before moving the material over my stomach slowly, sensually, as he leaned in for a slow kiss.
“Oh, that feels good,” I whispered in a shattered, stuttered breath. The material was almost directly between the other two sensations. It was a more natural fiber, like the jute, but it was soft and supple, closer to the nylon, but not the same at all.
“How do you like them?” Gideon whispered against my lips.
“They all feel so different, but so good,” I murmured softly.
“Which is your favorite?” he asked. I could feel the way his lips turned up in a smirk, his lips still hovering just above my own so that our lips touched with every word.
“I couldn’t possibly answer that,” I scoffed, feeling the tingling of the playful banter we so often shared rising up to the surface.
“And why is that, my vixen?”
“Because you have yet to tie me with all three. Something I wouldloveto have rectified. And soon,” I breathed, hearing the way my own voice had lowered, becoming sultry and near sinful.
“I will demonstrate the jute and the hemp this evening, though I will be officially tying you with the hemp. The nylon you have felt before,” he clarified, reaching back over to the bed to pick up the jute. His lips claimed mine once again as I heard the sound of heavy rope thudding to the floor as he unwound the fastened hank.
“The jute is strong and has a firm bite. Much more firm than the nylon,” he explained, his voice sending shivers down my spine as he wrapped the rope around my back, threading the double strand through a loop just under my breasts.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded gently, the rope moving and twisting as he tied a quick tie of some sort and then pulled it tight with an abrupt yank.
“Oh!” I gasped, feeling my pulse race.
“Feel the bite? The way it feels strong and more secure than the nylon?” he asked. I nodded my head, my eyes locked onto his dark brown ones. “Nylon is just as secure and perfectly safe, but there is just something about that near painful bite of jute that is just exquisite.”
Just as quickly as the rope had been tied around me, it fell to the floor with a thuddy thump.
“Step out,” he instructed, helping me to step away from the rope pooled at my feet. “Jute is my favorite to suspend with. It’s just the right combination of painful and strong and can cause quite a beautiful reaction in a suspended submissive.”
“Why would someone want pain?” I asked calmly.
“Painful bondage is an experience all its own. Just as predicament bondage, floor bondage, and suspension bondage are all completely different,” he began to explain as he unwound the dark green hemp rope from its hank.
“Tonight I want to show you some more advanced bondage,” he continued, his tone firm and serious. It made butterflies erupt in my stomach, all nerves and excitement.
“I would like that very much,” I replied docilely. He threw me a look, one eyebrow arched pointedly. “Sir. I would like that very much, Sir,” I corrected quickly with only the slightest blush.
“Good girl,” he teased, kissing my forehead. He pulled the chair from the corner, standing on it quickly as I looked on in pure confusion.
I looked up to where he reached towards the ceiling. There was a small metal piece there that I hadn’t noticed before. I looked around, suddenly noticing several of them placed on the ceiling and even a few at the top of the wall above our bed. What on Earth could those be?
