Rose Submits

I like your list. The one you posted with all the "some day" fetish things. It seems to me that you think that these things should be singularly explored, slowly and carefully. That may be true. But what if they were strung together as a coherent narrative of exploration? They would read something like this ...

To have a scene written for you on literotica, to be guided to act out what you have read, with punishment for deviating. This is your scene and I am your guide. Together with my switch / playmate, I will be taking you on this journey. And as I've done you the favour of exploring it in writing first, I expect you to follow your instructions to the letter.

Arriving as instructed at my apartment building, wearing pretty and revealing clothes. Stockings, heels, skirt and corset. Sweating and trembling a little with anticipation and fear. You know where to wait for me, you've been instructed.

I could keep you waiting there, but I don't. Quite apart from anything else, I want to watch what happens next.

You've dreamt about it but the reality is more intense than you imagined. Grabbed from behind without warning. Knowing it's going to happen and that protests are futile but protesting anyway, so that you'll be gagged first and can whimper freely. My apartment is the only one with its own side entrance up a long garden path. Perhaps he'll bind your hands with bondage tape and blindfold you, then drag you up the path. Or immobilise you and use a trolley to wheel you, even more helpless and aroused.

Go on, struggle, I know you want to. He's quite strong, so you won't get away and I'm sure he'll enjoy your vulnerable squirming.

Onto my terrace, with the suspension hook and the play apparatus. I live here alone, so can suit myself, and do. You have your instructions so you know what happens next. At least in outline. Unwound from your temporary bondage, forced to kneel at my feet and promise obedience, in a shaking voice.

He will prepare you for play. Stripped of the clothes that decorate you, reduced to the play toy that you want to be. Hands on your head, legs apart. Remember your safe word. If you are gagged and need to say something, click your fingers or drop the item in your hand. Know that we are both watching you and checking on you all the time.

And know that we are both enjoying this. All of it. The start is always something you want to draw out a little.

A blindfold to disorient you but also make you free. A gag, to open your mouth and help you whimper and drool and make pretty little noises.

You can hear us talking and touching, hear rope coiling out on the floor. Then it begins.

A rope corset is always beautiful. On breasts like yours, it serves more than the purpose of beauty, it offers you up for play. Keeps your breathing constrained. Makes your breasts ache.

It's very pretty to watch. I'm torn between watching your face and his. You are sinking into subspace and delicious relaxation, knowing that you are in our hands. He is focused and intense, blue eyes glacial with concentration and body eager with pleasure. Rope winding around you, a living piece of art, where each growing bond frees you more. I lean back and watch, sip my drink and think of the evening ahead.

Japanese hemp rope, soft against your skin but hard in its intent. Standing in one place, his steadying hands moving you when required, shifting your body into place, patterns growing down your torso. Tight as a real corset or more so, breast harness then winding twisted skeins against your skin, all the way down.

Finally finished, both of you swaying a little, rope tied off and into the hook to keep you upright and in the one place.

It's enough bondage to send you deep into pleasure and submissiveness and we take our time to enjoy the view. The hook is there for suspension, if you are ready. But if not, it serves as a tether. Not that you are trying to get away. Not yet, at least.

A final touch is the double rope between your legs, knots diabolically placed to rub against your clit. You discover that if you stand just right, it's only a touch, nothing to truly discompose you. But then he ties the vibrator in place and your body jerks in protest and there is no way to ignore the buildup of desire it produces.

It's enough to tease you and torment you, but not enough to come. Not directly on your clit, just vibrating the rope knot. You can hear me walking around you, admiring the view, feel my hands on the rope as he goes to get himself a drink and freshens mine.

As you wiggle in the ropes, as your breath grows shorter, we relax ourselves. Curl up on the couch together, softly talking and touching each other. You feel ignored. You are ignored. Mostly.

We want you desperate and starting to plead for release. That is, of course, what will trigger the next items on your list.

And when you do start to beg?

I like hearing people beg, it's one of my favourite things. I will allow it to go on for a while. I might move the vibrator, bring you closer to orgasm, then take it away again. Over and over. Remember, teasing and denial is one of my things. You can feel my body against yours, playing with your skin, roughing your nipples in the rope, learning your curves so that I can enjoy them even more.

A soft flogger against your back and thighs, on exposed skin. Perhaps my crop, wielded softly to begin with. My hand in your hair, holding you where I want you, lips and teeth on soft skin. And all the while, that damn vibrator buzzing away, keeping you on the edge. Still blindfolded, the gag comes out so I can hear you beg with words, properly.

But to keep you on edge and off balance, a pair of heavy headphones go over your ears. First silence, then faint noise, then louder. Pants and groans. The wail of orgasm, gasps and thuds of pain and pleasure. The sounds of sex and fetish are all you can hear, nothing else. You can't even hear yourself beg, although you can feel your mouth form the words and hear them in your head.

"please Miss, I'll do anything, please let me come, please make me come, please, please Miss"

I wait until the tears come and then pull the headphones off, press the vibrator on your clit and say "Come" and you do, hard, gasping and pulling at the ropes, then slackly leaning back against them.

A kind Mistress would let you rest now. But I am not kind, at least not in that way.

"Anything, little fucktoy?"

"yes Miss, yes", weakly now, knowing that it will start a whole new round of delightful torment.

You are released from your ropes, despite weak protests. I need more access to you for the next stage and there is such a thing as being constrained for too long. Besides, it's my turn to watch the two of you play now and so you need more movement.

Time for him to switch for me, to go from his natural Rope top self to the switchy slut that I adore. Time for me to instruct you both.

For him to be instructed to bring you inside, to fetch items from the toy chest and to use them on you.

And for you to have your own turn, to touch him, soft skin, hard muscle, dripping cock. He is not allowed to come and pulls away when he gets close, but there is no such restriction on you. Both on the floor, each toy he uses on you gives you the chance to try it out on him. Any impact play, showing up on the pale skin you both have. Knowing his cock is somewhat off limits, but that his arse is very much available.

And knowing that I am watching you both, giving instructions, enjoying his humiliation, lying back and enjoying the view.

In the process, you discover how you both respond to spanking on bare skin, getting redder all the time. How you both like a little breath play when I tell you to do it. Asking for permission to come as he edges you with fingers and toys and tongue and coming when I tell you to. Learning what he likes and how to prepare him for fucking. By me. Lubing his arse, exploring it with your fingers, feeling the warmth of it close around them, watching his cock drip and his back bow with arousal.

Until you are both breathy and squirming and all too relaxed and it's time for me to take a much more active hand. Or cock.

That's what strapons are for, after all. Still in my thigh high boots, but stripping off my own corset and underwear, grinding onto his face to prepare me for the feeldoe cock, as you suck the end that will go inside me. And then buckling it in, to make sure you both get ridden hard and sent home wet.

I like the thought of moving between you, fucking your pussy, then his arse, back to your pussy. Maybe I'll let you strap one on yourself, so we can spit roast him between us, just for a little while, so you can feel what it's like to gag a man with your cock or to fuck him from behind and watch that gorgeous view, hear the noises he makes as you do.

Or perhaps I'll fuck you hard, while he shoves his cock down your throat, my hands on your breasts, on the back of your head keeping you in place, telling you what to do.

Making you come over and over, vibrator torturing your clit as well, over sensitized, exhausted, begging and pleading for your Mistress to be pleased and satisfied. Begging for the final release of being good and being done.

Being ridden hard while he comes down your throat or on your breasts, or sucking his cock to completion while I fuck him, or fucking him hard under instruction as he begs for mercy and licks my pussy over and over again and you wish that it was you pleasing me.