When the rope seduces me...

As we sit there talking I can feel myself becoming more and more focused on that length of rope I have been absentmindedly let slide through my fingers. Each fiber of the rope feels as if it is more pronounced than it as a moment ago, there is a sensation of warming where the rope caresses my skin, sliding, rough and smooth, gently abrasive, leaving my hand tingling.
I turn to face FHB, as he is talking, and I have this moment of disorientation, as I am looking at his sexy frame as a rigger, imagining what I could do with this rope, did he let me-and that image is for a moment superimposed my vision of him... I smile wryly, amused, because while he often lets me practice on him he is NOT a bottom, nor does he get any glee from rope, in his hands or on his person.
BL says something, and what little focus I have left shifts to him, the rope still sliding, fibers catching on my skin, yet sliding ever so soft and wicked... hmm?? What did he say??
I put the rope down beside me and concentrate a little... follow the conversation, participate.. And I am doing good... Right?? But when bk says something and I make eye contact I am suddenly very aware that I have picked the rope back up and continued my tactile junky fix-and suddenly I very clearly see what this rope should be doing.
This very pretty pink hemp rope that is stroking my hand, sliding across my forearm and pooling sinfully at my feet should be winding itself over her skin instead... wrapping around her waist, cinching just on this side of good... Then down and through her legs, creating a cradle to lift her buttocks just so... tightening just a bit here, more there... And one wrist fastened here, elbow there....
And maybe.. yes that purple rope... it just wants to slide up her abdomen, wrap itself over her rib cage, asymmetrically binding one breast, this knot right there... this one just off kilter... now cinch it tight... I can hear that amazing soft squeak she makes when you startle her in a good way... Yes, this rope can now bring that foot up... just so.. bind bind... and the leg.. bind bind... more rope....back to pink, this arm now... it needs to be like this... secure it.. double column tie... and that foot like this... with purple... secure it, double column tie...
I can see it, the whole time they are talking.. I can feel my heart beat slow down, the feel of the rope sliding through my fingers, the tension, the warmth of her skin... I can hear her sounds, the rasp of the rope...
I can see it... the finished picture, arm and leg fully suspended, body partially, the position looking so impossibly uncomfortable but made peaceful by the rigging... Her form swaying slightly on the ropes, that glazed look a rope bunny gets that makes me feel... so... damn. just so damned good.
I stand up abruptly, obviously not in time with conversation, judging by the startled looks everyone gives me... I shrug.. Socially awkward?? Me?? yup...
I put aside that vision a wee bit, and show BL and FHB the tie we are here for... I demonstrate on bk, trying not to yank the rope too tight just to hear that sound, ignoring the seductive song the rope is singing I do what I am supposed to do, grinning to myself, even as I am picturing what else this rope can do.
And so we learn the tie we came to learn. We practice the tie we came to learn. BL ties on bk, FHB ties it on me, the tightening of the rope on my own skin just adds to the song in my head. The whole time I am just dancing inside to a different song-being seduced by the rope.

Slave Girl

I am woken rudely by a hand twined in my hair, lifting me, causing me to gasp in pain and struggle to get on my feet.

"Wha-?" I begin to speak, but my mouth is slapped firmly, halting my words.  The message is clear.  I am to be quiet.  The hand, tight in my hair, so incredibly tight, steers me and I stumble in what I hope is the right direction.

My bare feet pad loudly on the cold floor, and I wonder where I am.  Surely this is a prank, people just do not get kidnapped like this in the real world... right?

I am shoved forward and I raise my bound hands to catch myself only to feel other hands catch me and steady me, lifting me and swinging me about, then standing me up again.  Once I am steady, they drop away, leaving me standing there, tired and scared.

I strain to hear... Footsteps fade away.  I can hear breathing. One person? More? I flinch when hands are unexpectedly on my wrists, raising them high.  I hear a "clink" and my hands are fastened, above my head.  I flinch again as hands pull the cloth from my eyes.  I blink in the bright light at the man in front of me.  WTF... I don't know this person.  I whimper in fear as he leans forward my eyes glued to the knife he holds.

He smiles evilly at me, then, when I flinch away, he barks, "hold still".  I freeze, eyes squeezed shut.  I feel a tug, but no pain.  I peek.

Ahhh... he is cutting away my clothes... oh my..

I stand there, trembling, as he cuts away every last scrap of clothing, my eyes closed in shame, I tug on my wrists, helpless to cover myself. Eventually I open my eyes, and see that I am chained to a hook in the ceiling, standing beside a floor drain.  I turn my head and see a hose, a table with towels and bottles upon it. 

I hear footsteps and turn my head to see a woman walking towards me.  I don't recognize her, either.  She doesn't make eye contact with me at all, but rolls up her sleaves and grabs the hose and a bucket, then turns back to me.

"Who?" I begin, only to flinch as she smacks my mouth.  Got it.. no talking...

She goes about the process of scrubbing me, from head to toe, using sweet smelling soaps and vigorous scrubbing with a loofah that leaves my skin tinging and near abraded.  The water is slightly cold.  The whole situation seems so surreal, I scarce know what to do with myself besides shiver miserable, small whimpers escaping with the occasional tear.

She leaves me standing there, miserable and wet, only to return quickly with the man, who walks in, moves the bucket so it is upside down and beside me, then lifts me off the hook.  He sets a foot on the upturned bucket, then tosses me face down over his bent leg, so that I dangle there, fingertips barely touching the floor. I struggle a bit at the feel of fingers upon my now very exposed genitals, but the firm shake I get is enough to have me settle down.

I feel fingers probing me, then something very cold and metal is pushed inside me.  There is a warm rushing sensation and I realize it is a douche, water filling me.  I whimper again, shamed beyond belief as the water trickles, nearly dieing of shame when he turns me, and by pressing on my abdomen forces me to eject the water.  ewwwwww...

This is repeated a few times, then suddenly fingers are pressing something wet and cold against my ass.  I go rigid, then fight to relax, knowing that resisting won't help me.. I would give anything to be able to hide my face as I feel the nozzle enter, and the pressure of water filling my bowels.  As the pressure increases I make sounds of distress, trying to not shame myself..   Just when I think I am beyond hope, I am turned over and pressed over the bucket.. (oh gawd... nooo....)  I feel the liquid expel and am horrified, my eyes squinched shut.  

more cold water is sluiced over me, and I stood and toweled off, my hands once again hooked above me.  Oil is rubbed into my now dry skin, warming me slightly.  A collar is placed around my neck, with a strap that runs from it to the middle of my back.  My hands are released, wrists rubbed for a bit, then refastened to the end of the strap.  I am then nudged to follow the man, with the woman walking behind me.

I am taken to a room.  The room is all dark reds and browns, with only a few furnishings.  There is a small table and one armless chair, a narrow padded bench, and a couch.

I am led to the center of the room and the woman poses me, spreading my legs, tilting my head slightly before she leaves the room.

The man stands just inside the door, smirking at me as I stand there.

Then there is a knock, the man goes out.  He comes back in with a strip of cloth, which he binds over my eyes.  I stand there for a few minutes, then there are hands on me, making me flinch.

Hands explore my skin, touching every inch, pressing, pinching, patting, smoothing.  Every toe is touched, my belly ring tugged, my nipples pinched and rolled.  Hands are on my face, fingers in my mouth, touching my teeth, my tongue as I tremble.  a finger is shoved inside me, and I gasp.  The finger is removed, and I am tugged and pushed until I am face down on what I think is the bench.  My hands are untied from behind me and refastened elsewhere.

Then I feel something, I know not what, being pressed inside me.  It fills me, as I struggle and whimper, unable to do shit about it. 

Then something is pressed elsewhere...
To be con't