It took me a few days to recover from the Halloween Party. While I was recuperating, I exchanged some messages with Denise, hoping to get together for another lunch so I could find out about all the written and unwritten rules that kept getting me into trouble. We did hook up a couple of days later and she wound up telling me most rules are arbitrary; it was a way for the Brothers to change circumstances at any time so they could have their fun. She suggested that whenever I was in doubt about what to do, to act in such a way that the Brothers would get sexual satisfaction or amusement. We also talked about the upcoming Holiday Party and her tales of past parties had me looking forward to my first one.
Around the house Jonathan and I fell into a fairly boring routine. Some days he had Gabrielle lay out a shirt for me to wear; some days nothing at all. In any event, I was bare assed and barefoot all the time. Most days we had breakfast together, spent time apart in the middle of the day, and then watched a movie together in the afternoon or evening. I often used a portion of my free time to do yoga or work out on his elliptical. Jonathan noticed this and wound up coming by to watch me for a few minutes every so often.
We had sex frequently, but even that seemed boring; it was just vanilla sex. Although, he did surprise me once during our TV time by having me give him a blowjob in the middle of the movie. By this time, I knew I was supposed to swallow whenever I gave him oral. It seemed I was his one-girl harem.
During this period, he only had a couple of photo shoots, and I was not involved in either of them. In fact, I only met one of the models briefly and she was quite surprised by my partial nudity. She was pretty but she was typical of the fetish model type; fake blonde with big boobs and several visible tattoos. I have no idea what the two shoots were like as I never saw any of the resulting photos.
In fact, things got so monotonous around the house I toyed with the idea of breaking a rule just so Jonathan would punish me. But there is truth in the adage that you should be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. Rather than a punishment, Jonathan surprised me one day at breakfast by announcing he had an idea for some photographs, and he wanted me to model. I supposed it would be some sort of bondage shoot and when I asked him what we would be doing, he did not get specific but would only say his idea was to capture some 'post-session images.' After breakfast, he had me go up to my room and do my hair, make-up, and nails. I was to put on red lipstick and red nail polish.
After getting made-up, I joined him in the studio and was surprised to see he was preparing a nice set which included an antique sofa on an old-fashioned rug. He also had a vase full of beautiful red roses sitting on a small table in front of the sofa. I started to think this would be a photo session for tasteful nudes, but I was wrong.
Jonathan approved of my hair, make-up and nails. I was already completely nude, so I assumed we would start shooting after he finished adjusting the lights. Instead, he had me walk with him to a metal worktable on which he had several bundles of rope laid out.
"What we're going for in these photos are close-ups of rope impressions on your skin," Jonathan informed me. "I want to produce some harsh marks on your wrists and ankles and juxtapose those with the softness of the roses and the couch."
It seemed like an interesting idea to me, but I knew it would involve Jonathan binding my wrists and ankles in order to get rope marks to appear. He slid my gold ankle chain up and out of the way and tied each of my ankles first while I sat on the table, which was uncomfortable because the metal was cold against my butt. Then he tied my wrists. I noticed as he went about tying my extremities, he wound the rope around in very neat rows. He explained he needed to make the bindings tight so the rope would push into my skin. He wrapped the ropes around me very tightly, leaving two loose ends on each bind.
As I looked at my hands and feet starting to turn pink, I asked Jonathan how long he thought it would take for the ropes to achieve the effect he sought. "I thought we could reduce the time by increasing the pressure on the ropes," he informed me.
He then had me lay on the table on my stomach, which was really cold. I could feel goose bumps form all over me. As I laid over the table, he grasped my ankles and pulled them up, bending my legs at the knees. Then he tied my ankles together. After that, he tied my wrists together behind my back and before I knew it, he had me tightly hog-tied. Between the stress on my joints and the cold metal against my tits and stomach, I was grimacing and grunting.
This was bad enough, but things were about to get worse. Jonathan walked over the wall, where a rope leading up in the air had been wound around a cleat. He unwound the rope from the cleat and as he walked back over to where I was on the table, he fed the rope up. I could hear some squeaking above me but could not see what was causing it. Jonathan then explained he was going to hoist me up so that the table would not leave marks on my skin and so the ropes would really 'bite.'
There must have been a pully or a hook over me because after I felt some tugging on my bindings. He stepped back and began pulling on the rope, which slowly lifted me up and off the table. The pain in my wrists, ankles, shoulders and back instantly intensified. As soon as he raised me off the surface of the table, Jonathan went back over and secured the rope to the cleat on the wall, suspending me in mid-air. Then he dragged the table out from under me.
Putting his hand on the inside of my left thigh, he said, "There. This should do the trick nicely." Then he gave a gentle push, which started me slowly spinning in the air. "Now, we just have to wait."
As I slowly spun, Jonathan repeatedly came into and left my field of vision. I saw him pull up a chair next to the table I had been laying on. He also retrieved an ashtray and sat it on the table. Then, as he sat down, he pulled a cigar from his pants pocket. Before I had spun back around to see him again, he put his hand on my leg again to stop me from spinning. Not being able to see him and having no idea what he was doing, it surprised me when he stuck a finger in my pussy.
"Hhmm," he mused as he felt me. "I wondered if this was making you wet. Lucky for me it is."
He then pulled his finger out and almost immediately after that, I felt something else inserted. After he removed the object from my pussy, he spun me around to face him and held up his cigar. "Thank you. You perfectly moistened my cigar."
After he sat back down, he clipped the end of the cigar off and lit it up. I was no longer spinning so we were facing one another. As he took his first few puffs, I was conscious of the increasing pain from being suspended and found myself groaning. After a few minutes, Jonathan stood up. I had hoped he was about to let me down. Instead, Jonathan reached up behind me. I could feel him squeeze one of my hands and then one of my feet. "You're still okay. But it's working," he calmly stated as he sat back down, pulled out his phone, and started looking at news.
By now, the pain was excruciating, and I could not contain my discomfort. This seemed to annoy Jonathan, who got up, pulled one of the long-stemmed roses from the vase and brought it to my mouth. "Here. Hold this in your teeth. Maybe that will quiet you down."
