Sun Showers

By RopeBinder and Angie

Part I...By Angie

It was such a beautiful Monday that she took the day off and worked in her tiny yard. Yard work finished, she thought about a show but decided to wash her car, as long as the sun was out. The recent rains had kept her from washing it all month. Dressed in cut-at-the-thigh cutoffs and a tiny, cropped T-shirt she scrubbed away not noticing the man who had pulled his car up across the street.

He sat in his car and watched the small blonde girl and was sure she was the one. When she stooped low to scrub her car, her shirt rode up her torso, and he could see her round firm breasts and the smooth skin of her back and sides. When she finished, she unplugged the hose and walked to the rear of the house. He got out of his car and followed. When he arrived in the backyard, she was gone. He saw the screen door to the back of the house and entered quietly. She saw him standing confidently in the hallway. She stared at him for a long time. He looked towards the bedroom, and she slowly walked to it, never taking her eyes from his.

She stood facing him, against the wall. He gently took her wrists and held them over her head. He then pulled the crop-top up and off of her and threw it behind him on the floor. She reached up with both hands and held onto the cleats embedded into the wall. He unzipped her jeans as far as they would unzip. He grabbed two handfuls of her soft belly and sides and squeezed until her flesh oozed from his fingers and tore on his fingernails. Over and over and over again he took handfuls of her anywhere her skin was loose enough to pinch. She shook, and her eyes filled with tears, but her gaze never left his. At times, her feet left the ground, as he held her by her soft underbelly in his strong fingertips. His hands became slippery, as the marks he was causing began to run with the oils that her skin was leaking. Pinching both nipples with four fingers and a thumb, he lifted and pulled away at her nipples with such force that his hands shook from the effort. She moaned, as tears rolled down her face, but did not kick or turn loose of the cleats. He let her go only to pinch her just below her armpits with all his strength. This time she wailed loudly, and each time she ran out of air he jerked his pincers again. Finally, she let go of the cleats, and he let her fall in a heap on the floor of her room. He turned and walked away.

"Jeffrey," he heard her say, as he left her back porch.

They had finally met.

Part II...By Angie

He got halfway to his car and noticed the bum throwing a shopper throwaway paper on her wet driveway. Bending and picking up the paper, he turned again towards the backyard and went back into the small house. He found her where he had left her, curled in a ball on the floor of her room, still sniffling and whimpering. He grabbed her by her short blonde hair and pulled her to her feet. She looked at him through teary eyes and sniffed her nose once. He dragged her to a wooden chair, sat down and draped her on her back over his lap. Her chest was a messy field of finger marks. He took the newspaper from his back pocket and slipped off the rubberband throwing the paper aside. Taking the rubber band in one hand and stretching it between his thumb and forefinger he pulled the length back with his other hand, like an archer's bow, and snapped it on her nipple. The force of the tiny impact made her scream through her tears and her legs and stomach muscles tensed with the intensely directed pain. Her nipple turned an even deeper red. He found another, less abused, spot on the aureole and snapped the band again. Then he worked the other nipple. Eventually, the force of the snapping lost its impact on her tortured tits. He looked down at her tender tummy and snapped her several times on her soft underbelly below her navel. Despite her pleas for him to stop, he continued snapping unmarked spots of her most subtle flesh until the rubberband finally broke.

He could smell her now. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Her tiny denim cut-offs were barely covering her, when he pulled them completely off. Next, he turned her naked body over his knee and spanked her as hard as he could with his bare hand. Forty or fifty times his hand came down on her crimson cheeks. When he could no longer lift his hand, he turned her around and began to spank her again using the other hand. Holding her tightly by the hair with his tired right hand, he redoubled his efforts with his fresh left hand. Eventually, his hand was as warm as her bottom. She had stopped jerking so much with each stroke. He could smell her stronger now. When he could raise his arm no more, he stood. She tumbled, naked, onto the hard wood floor. Her body was in a state of near exhaustion as she lie there too weak to move. He stood and went to the kitchen and filled a large bowl with ice and returned. He laid the bowl on the bed, sat next to it and let the cool ice comfort his aching hands as he watched her lie there and breathe, whimper, sniff and moan. There was no air in this back room, and the unseasonably warm day made it stifling. He took a piece of ice and sucked on it. After forty minutes or so, the warmth of his hands turned the bowl of ice into ice water.

She finally found enough strength to raise her head, but she didn't see him on the bed. Slowly she pushed herself to her hands and knees. She was sweating from head to toe, and the welts on her chest and tummy felt like clamps still attached. She could feel the swelling in both cheeks of her butt, as she rocked back and forth on her hands and knees. Feeling enough strength to stand, she was shocked at the sudden splash of ice water across her back and head. The cold water on her hot sweaty skin forced her to scream, as her breath left her...like she'd been slugged in the stomach. She fell like a ton of bricks, not fully comprehending what had hit her.

He walked to her and pulled her, by her hair, to her feet. Taking her back to the wall, he raised her arms again to the cleat. This time, he tied her wrists with a leather strap. He stepped back and spoke the first words between them all afternoon. "And now we begin," he told her. She saw him through blurry eyes. Her body shook. She was ready.

Part III...By RopeBinder

He left the room for a moment and returned with a small, straight-backed wooden chair from the kitchen. He placed it several paces in front of her and slung his leg over the seat. He folded his arms on the back of the seat, as he faced her. He seemed contemplating and sprung out of the seat before he even had time to get comfortable. He'd forgotten something...unlike him.

He left the room, and she heard drawers and cabinets throughout the house opening and closing. Ten minutes later, he appeared with hands full of hardware, nails, rope, hooks, eyebolts and a hammer. Dropping to his knees, beneath her, he tapped the wall at her feet. He could smell her. Her sex was running down her inner thighs. He sensed her cautiously parting her legs. Perhaps she did need him, but not now...much to do. Tap...tap...tap until he found the studs in the wall. Then the loud pounding of nails echoed in her head. Why did her head hurt? Why was she so exhausted?

Two nails, each one pace outside her feet, and he was done. With two strands of nylon cord, he tightly wrapped her ankles, around and around, then stretched them to the nail posts. Her weight was fully on her shoulders and wrists now. Her feet dangled precariously inches from the floor. Now he could relax a bit. Again, he climbed over the chair, sitting backwards and watched her fidget.

She needed this time, alone but not alone, tied helplessly, exposed and aching. Both of them needed to think. Although spontaneous, they'd put much thought into this day.

An hour later, he rose from the chair and approached her. He had stared at her the entire time, his mind sometimes on her, sometimes elsewhere. She was beautiful, especially now. Tears streaked her cheeks, moisture filled her nostrils, whimpers escaped her lips. He dabbed her face with his handkerchief, and she pressed her cheek into the back of his hand. He kissed her on both cheeks, then briefly on her lips. She'd been crying for so long that her face and lips were on fire. His hands traced a line from her cheekbones to her neck and across her shoulders. Rounding her shoulders, he tightened his grip on the tender flesh of her armpits. She flinched, then grimaced, as he pressed his fingers together tightly, moving from one spot to the next, but always on her sensitive underarms. After some time, his vise grip turned to brushing with his fingernails. Then he traveled further to her nipples and started over. This time, the pinching was followed by pulling and twisting. In his excitement, he found himself biting her cheeks and neck. She tried to kiss him, but he pushed her away with his chin and bit harder into her neck. Her nipples were turning purple and white. He'd been torturing them for almost twenty minutes. She was ready for the nipple clamps.

Normally, he was very careful with the tweezer-style clamps. When tightened fully, they can pierce the skin. But, she was special. He grabbed one nipple, then the other and placed the pincers around her knotted tips. He slid the rings farther and farther toward her nipples until the clamps were firmly attached. Then, he slid them another eighth of an inch, for good measure. She bit her lower lip, but remained silent. He left the room once more, this time for his car.

He returned carrying a small gym bag. He pulled out a much smaller bag, full of alligator clips, miniature clothespins and paper binders. He dumped the clips onto the floor at her feet and grabbed a handful before rising to his feet. He looked deeply into her eyes. Her body glistened with sweat. He brushed her hair from her eyes and traced his hand down her face to her belly. Then, one by one, he fastened the clips. He started with her tender underarms and continued down her sides and across her belly. Then, he worked back to her breasts and covered them fully with a dozen clips. Finally, he decorated the insides of her thighs, from her knees to her crotch with a litter of the tiny-teethed monsters. He decorated her like a tree. She shook in pain, but the pain soon dulled. They both knew the true pain would come later. He sat down on the bed and searched his bag, taking inventory. He pulled out the crop and climbed onto the wooden chair again.

This time he stared more curiously, just long enough to let the clamps do their work. After a time, they would choke off enough blood, from dozens of points on her body, that their removal would mimic tiny piercings. Her whimpers and gyrations fascinated him. Her outer shell was a proud, almost disinterested captive, as if her suffering were familiar to her, but her body said otherwise. Glistening, contorted skin and a heaving chest made her look wanton...on fire. Each time he touched her, her skin burned his fingers. Further down, the betrayal of moisture trickling down her inner thighs, with droplets on the floor beneath her, said she was nothing without sex. Her body pulsed in unison with her throbbing clitoris, as she hung from the cleat. She was desperate for human touch, any touch, whether it be the bite of a clamp, the sting of a whip or the friction of his cock impaling her.

He rose, moving the chair aside. He traced the insides of her legs, from ankle to crotch, with the flimsy leather at the crop's tip. Each time he stoked her sex, the leather gathered more of her wetness. Ultimately, the crop shined, and he drew it to within an inch of his nose, inhaling her. The mix of leather and moisture made him dizzy. He dropped the crop to the floor and moved closer. Their eyes were inches apart, their bodies fractions. She gathered her strength and gazed at him. He returned her stare with one not of comfort, but of understanding, and he reached behind her tiny waist and pulled her to him. He reeled her in the few inches that her bonds allowed and clenched her tightly. She bit her lower lip, as the clamps and clips bent and twisted between them. He manipulated the clips with his torso, pulling her closer and swaying gingerly from side to side. The friction gave the clamps new life. She moaned, but neither heard it. Then he kissed her, as he had wanted to from the moment he saw her.

He couldn't remember the last time he desired like he did now. Their kiss lasted forever. With each gyration of their bodies, new flames sparked beneath the clamps. Had she not been tied, she would have dropped in a heap on the floor when he backed away. Had he not concentrated on balance, he might have done the same. Instead, he bent down and picked up the crop and, with a rapidly flicking wrist, tested each of the clamps with the crop. The blows came harder and harder until, one by one, he whipped the clamps from her body. With each clamp that flew from her tortured flesh, there was a new flow of blood that burned beneath her skin. Several times he stopped to stroke her with his fingertips. It was amazing how hard and crisp he could swing the crop to knock off the clamps without touching her skin.

Finally, the majority of her torso was visible. A half dozen clamps remained, one on each nipple and several more on the tender folds between her legs. Small blotches of redness decorated her skin. He wanted to caress her sides and stomach, but there wasn't time for that right now. Her journey was far from over. Her head sagged against her weary shoulders. Her arms and sides burned from hanging. It had been over two hours now. He turned his attention to her nipples.

He removed the first clamp with his fingers. She jerked her head backward and hissed, sucking in as much air as possible. He covered her burning nipple with his mouth and sucked fervently. He rolled his tongue around the tip and bathed the front part of her breast with his mouth. Her nipple was so hot that it seemed to explode onto his tongue. He grabbed it between his teeth and sucked it further into his mouth before clamping down tightly. His tongue danced lightly along the front of her nipple as he chewed it harder and harder. He could have bitten it off, but her cries told him it was time to move on. He reluctantly released his grip and focused on her left nipple. He removed this clamp with his teeth. Although pain seared though her nerve endings, she greatly anticipated his tongue swabbing her swollen bud. She thrashed in anger as he stood back just watching her in her disappointment. Instead, he grabbed both her nipples between his fingers and pressed. He pulled her to him and spoke for the first time in over two hours, "You're doing very well. Shall we raise the ante?"

Part IV...By RopeBinder

Her nipples were a mixture of red-hot and ice cold. Visually, they were an abstraction of pink, red, purple and white. He twisted them forcefully and playfully between his strong, lean fingers. Then, he cupped her breasts and leaned down to tantalize them with his lips, teeth and tongue. She strained wildly, bucking against the wall, propelling her midsection towards his touch. Sliding his hands behind her back, he begin a slow decent with his mouth, tracing a line from her chest to her stomach, with his hands exploring her back. Her muscles tensed and pulsed, pushing gasps of air from her lungs. She was too exciting. He was loosing his composure. He had to slow down. Breathe...breathe...

He lingered near her belly button. Such a fascinating part of the anatomy, he thought, one of the only bits of flesh impossible to get one's teeth around. He tried anyway, making a game of it. His cock was rigid, pressing against his jeans. Her pussy intoxicated the room. Tiny blond curls matted against her vulva, slick from hours of secretion. Her pussy lips pulsed between the clips that trapped them. Most violently, her blood engorged clit fought to expand the cruel metal teeth clamping it. With one last dart of his tongue into her belly button, he headed south, straight between her legs, then detoured to her left knee.

For the next few minutes, he cleaned her legs, which were covered with body oil and sweat. He lapped caringly. He'd not imagined this sweetness. He didn't know what to expect. He cleaned her thoroughly, from knee to crotch and took a deep breath before he touched her sex for the first time. His tongue dodged from clip to clip, then flicked each one in succession. She hissed again, but he ignored her. He removed the clips from back to front with his teeth. Only the clamp on her clit remained. He addressed her bare lips more vigorously, lapping, sucking and nibbling. She tensed her thighs, squeezing out a steady flow of liquid. He took the tensing as a signal and stopped. She grunted her first recognizable cry, "No...pleeease!!!" He waited, before starting again. Each time she tensed, he stopped. Each time he brought her closer to the edge. Soon, her pleading turned to a steady moan. She slumped wearily, hanging from the cleat. Her shoulders burned and her body throbbed in pain, but, more than anything else, she wanted to cum…desperately.

He rose to his feet. The sexual tension was killing him. She looked so distraught. She sobbed silently. This time, he saw something very different in her eyes that he had not seen before. Perplexing, interesting, she had changed in some way. Pulling his T-shirt from his belted waist, he pulled it over his head and removed it. He kissed her again, longer and more passionately than before. Body heat melded their chests and stomachs together. There was no tentativeness between their tongues. He wanted to help her cum.

He dropped to his knees and released her ankles. With her legs straight down, she barely reached the floor. He relieved her burden by picking up both legs and resting them on his shoulders. His attention was captivated by the clip extending from her clit. He toyed with it, flicking his tongue over it and grabbing it with his lips. He slid it between his lips and let it recoil from his grip by pulling his head backward. Finally, he removed the clip with his teeth and spit it on the floor. She recoiled violently, her head and buttocks banging against the wall. Pain shot through her most tender nerve endings. He chased her, wrapping his lips and teeth around her painfully swollen clit. He licked and sucked until she began kicking her legs, then he sucked harder. She exploded into his mouth and against his dancing tongue. He hung on, despite her bucking. She thought she couldn't take anymore. The whole area felt too sensitive now, but she couldn't escape. The friction on her raw insides made her ravenous. The scene made him delirious. She came again.

He dropped her, letting her hang against the wall. He feet should have touched ground, but they didn't. She tried to curl herself into a ball, but in his haste to lower his pants he didn't notice. Kicking the denim from his ankles, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and pulled them up, spreading her legs. Piercing her with a quick stroke, they collaborated a rhythm and bucked slowly, savoring the moment. He had never felt anything so good as he felt at that moment. She was so exhausted that had her pussy not been on fire she could have fallen asleep. Her sexual embers would not extinguish. She clenched his swollen cock with each stroke, trying to suck life from it. Although animalistic, their lovemaking was steady and deliberate. The tightening in his balls came suddenly, and then he splashed inside her with a groan.

He stood, leaning against her, with his limp cock inside her, before gathering enough strength to move. Then, he pressed his body against hers and untied the leather strip that had melded with the skin on her wrists. He held her up with his weight against hers and massaged her tender wrists. Then, he swept her legs and shoulders into a threshold carry and carried her to bed. He lay her on top of the comforter and crawled next to her. He pulled her closely, trying to touch her with each and every part of his body and closed his eyes.

Part V...By Angie

They lay on her bed for nearly an hour. He stroked her as she slept, near exhaustion. He quietly slipped from the bed and gathered the tools he had been using and put them back into their respective bags. Leaving three lengths of rope, he went to her sleeping form and rolled her onto her belly. Tying each ankle, with separate pieces of rope, he secured the other ends to the bottom legs of the bed. Coaxing her off her belly to a kneeling position, he took the third length of rope and tied her wrists behind her back. She began to regain consciousness and moaned in resistance. Spreading her knees as far as he could, he pulled the rope binding her wrists, from behind her back, through her legs, pulling her bound wrists down towards her buttocks. Her shoulders slumped backwards, as her arms were pulled down toward the mattress. He stood in front of her with both hands pulling the rope connected to her wrists farther and farther though her legs. Her torso responded to the strain of her arms being pulled down through the back of her open thighs by leaning backward onto the bed. He aided her motion by raising one foot and pressing it into her chest, effectively pressing her back down on top of her arms and the white comforter. She was now on her back laying on top of her folded knees, her legs forced open, completely exposed, her hands beneath her, her body drawn tight, totally bound, submission complete.

He ran his fingertips over her bruised sides, ribcage, waist, belly, open cunt, ears, throat, breasts and tender, tortured nipples. She began to respond by taking deep measured breaths. He opened a drawer beside her bed and found a black scarf. Under the scarf he found a long, thin, battery operated clitoral vibrator. He took both from the drawer. He tied the scarf around her head and made a thin tight gag. Next he jammed a small wooden spool of sewing thread, he'd found on top of the nightstand, into her mouth, propping it open. Turning on the small vibrator, he used it on all the erogenous spots of her exposed body. Even her tiny, boyish, tortured nipples responded as they stiffened so much their tips turned milky white. He bent and flicked each nipple tenderly with his tongue. Moving upward he gently kissed her throat. Working downward, he lingered just under her navel and finally stuck his tongue to the bottom of her belly button. The tiny crater was stretched to an oval. With all the abuse she had taken that day, his tongue still tickled her. His tongue flicked and licked at her belly button, and she jerked and what sounded like a distorted giggle came out of her gagged, but propped open, mouth. His attention returned to the clitoral stimulator, and he expertly applied it to her, once again, moistening cunt. Each breath she took exhaled in a louder and louder moan thanks to the wooden spool in her mouth. Bound as she was, he could see her hips rising and grinding slightly, trying to hasten her next orgasm, giving him plenty of clues as to when she would explode. He abruptly stopped all stimulation leaving her growling in frustration.

He left the bed, momentarily, and got something out of one of the cloth bags. When he returned to the bed, he massaged her belly button with both hands. Using his two middle fingers, he pushed the little hole of her navel open and closed and carefully inspected it from all angles. Finally, with his thumb and forefinger, he stretched open the cavity of the girl's navel as wide as he could. The tender skin at the bottom of her navel rose, as the skin grew taut. With surgical precision, he attached a steel needle-nosed hemostat to the knotted nerve endings of her belly. As the pincers closed, the pain went through her belly to her spine. The pain seemed to come from everywhere. She was barely aware that the deafening sound in her ears was her own scream. He carefully moved the scissors end of the hemostat back and forth, round and round like a joystick directing the total pain in her body like he was playing a diabolical computer game. With his other hand, he went back to work with the clitoral stimulator. He worked both hands carefully until he could hear the effects of each in her wails, screams and moans. He was playing her now. He had absolute control over her, physically, mentally and sexually. How long could he make her last? How long could he listen to her scream? How long would he?

Part VI...By RopeBinder

Tired of amusing himself with her bellybutton, he unclasped the hemostat and tossed it to the floor. She was too far gone to notice its absence. Her chest heaved up and down as if each breath were her last. She gyrated her sweaty torso back and forth, blindly searching for the buzzing vibrator. She wanted to cum. She needed to cum. Her thoughts were too blurred to comprehend her helplessness at that moment.

His voice brought her a moment of reality. With a steady tone, he asked, "Angie, would you like to cum now?" She shook her head vigorously, gurgling though the makeshift gag. He continued, "You realize, there will be a cost." It was not a question. It was a confirmation of their agreement, he dominant, she submissive. She hesitated. A tear swept along the corner of her eye, and she shook her head again.

He tossed the vibrator to the floor, not bothering to extinguish the buzzing, and placed his head between her bound, spread and contorted legs. He started slowly licking only the outsides of her silky lips. Her matted, blonde pubic hair framed her slick opening with an aroma of sex that filled the room. He licked carefully, first outside, then inside, with unpredictable stokes. Long curls of his tongue contrasted short jabs. Intermittently, he grabbed her engorged clit between his lips and flicked it gently with his tongue. She pressed forward, despite her discomfort. Her bent legs seared with a tired ache, but she didn't care. She was closing in on an explosive orgasm. She couldn't tell if her heartbeat had stopped or was racing. Her panting drowned out all other sound. All she could feel was his tongue on her clit. She was dizzy, and he was drowning.

Then he stopped.

She moaned as loud and she had all day. This was torture. He had agreed it was time for her to cum! "This won't do," he muttered. "Your hair is in the way," he continued, pulling several wet blond curls from his tongue, then several from her cunt merely to surprise her. "Hold on," he said and hopped off the bed, staggering to the bathroom. He returned with scissors, a razor, shaving cream, a towel and a large bowl filled with hot water. Amidst her protests, he tugged at her curls, snipping them at the base. Then, he smothered her pubic crew cut with shaving cream. She craved any sort of contact between her legs and thrust her lips at his fingers. "I'd be careful, if I were you, Angie. I've only done this once, and I'm not that confident with a razor in my hand." He shaved her, developing a rhythm dipping the razor into the hot water and gliding it along her skin. When he was satisfied with her smoothness, he relathered her and did it again. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she was trying to get herself off on the razor...very strange…very erotic. Finally, he cleaned her with a warm, wet towel. She sparkled.

He began again. Licking gently at the edges of her protective hood, then tracing the edges of her swollen pink and white lips, occasionally dipping the tip of his tongue inside her. Her juices flowed more freely without her hair getting in the way. He knew it was probably an illusion. Her bareness hid nothing. Her stubble invigorated his tongue. The freedom with which he could attack her nakedness shocked his weary senses. He sucked on her lips and lapped up her juices. There was no hurry. She pressed her bottom up and down and groaned from the back of her throat. He bit at her lips and clit, tugging and releasing them. Her body stiffened. He grabbed her clit with his lips and worked over the nerve endings. She stiffened again. Her groans became higher pitched. He sucked gently, but continuously, on her clit and hood, gathering the added rush of fluid spilling from her opening. She was cumming, but he didn't release her until she slumped on the bed. She could now feel the ache in her arms and legs, but she basked in her glorious state.

Part VII...By RopeBinder

"Shall we try that again?" She had momentarily forgotten he was there. Perhaps she had dozed off for a second. She froze, remembering his earlier words..."There will be a cost." She said nothing. He stooped over his clothing, heaped in a pile on the floor, and retrieved his belt. He thought about how lucky he was to have found this belt. Its leather wove diagonally from edge to center along its entire length. The body was one and a quarter inches wide and tapered to three-quarters of an inch at the tongue. It was a sturdy quarter inch thick down the middle. He knew he would never find a better whip.

"I'd like to see you climax again, but this time...only the whip." She groaned. Was it possible to cum from whipping? Neither knew. Her body was a collection of slick, shiny flesh, red and purple bruises and red welts. It was attractive now, but probably wouldn't be tomorrow. He wanted to leave her with something more decorative. He began striping her breasts, crisscrossing the marks as one would decorate a piecrust. Each lash left a stinging trail of redness. He worked his way down her belly and sides. She squirmed left, right, up and down, but there was no escape. The belt rained on her already tender flesh. He spent extra time on her bellybutton. Then, he bypassed her cunt and marked the front of her thighs with stripes an inch apart. She was crying again. "Why does she like this? Why does the pain turn her on?" he thought. "Are these questions she can answer? Maybe...maybe not..."

Satisfied that he'd covered her frontside, he shortened the belt, dangling the last eight inches from his fingertips. He concentrated on her inner thighs. She jumped with each blow, as he whipped her most sensitive flesh. Despite her cries, her juices flowed, pooling on the mattress beneath her. By the time he reached her lips, she was rising to meet each blow. He sat on her chest, whipping her clit, pussy lips and tiny pink asshole. He found himself playing a game to see if he could make the tip of the belt briefly disappear between her lips. She shivered below him. She was cumming again. Unbelievable to both of them, she was cumming. He continued to shower her with leather, and eventually she came again.

Part VIII...By RopeBinder

He'd witnessed a lot of things, but never climax by whipping. The thought excited him so much that his cock bobbed painfully, swollen against the heat of the bedroom. He threw his belt to the floor and hastily untied her. She remained still. She hadn't the strength to straighten her cramped legs or pull her arms out from under her. He did it for her and removed her gag.

He lay on top of her for a moment, staring at her face. She had nothing left. Her eyes were closed. Her body was limp. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, lifted himself to his elbows, and quietly slid inside her. He fucked her slowly and steadily, caressing her hair and cheeks with tired hands. She was unresponsive. He thought of Sleeping Beauty and stretched his neck to kiss her throat. He gently sucked her neck, then her chin and then her lips. She creased her eyes, blinded by the daylight sneaking through the window blinds. She opened them fully and returned his gaze. Their eyes never left each other's as he slid in and out of her. Her wetness clung to him, and he thrust harder and deeper, trying to pierce her. When he came inside her, it was more relief than climax. They'd been through so much in one day. He gasped as he came and collapsed onto her chest and stomach, out of breath, heart racing.

He rolled onto his side and clutched her to him. They held each other for a long time, fading in and out, half asleep, half awake. Finally, he crawled from her bed, tucked her in and went to the kitchen. Quietly fumbling through her cabinets, he found some pots, pans, noodles, olive oil, garlic, clams and Italian bread. He cracked the seal on a bottle of Chianti and went to work on a large batch of linguini and clams. She was tired and would sleep for a while, but when she woke, she would be famished. She would need him to take care of her.

He basked in the aroma of the garlic, clams and warm bread and thought about how lucky he was to have found her.

Copyright © 1995 by RopeBinder. All rights reserved.

Do not reprint or post without permission.

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