Grace

"I am just so happy that we've finally made up," Nicole sighs, her breathing getting heavier.

She is inches away from me, sitting opposite me on the white comforter, out legs intertwined.

"I'm just you're helping me pack" I breathe into her ear, eliciting a small gasp from her. We have, of course, abandoned packing to the depths of my floor, open boxes teaming with clothes and linens are scattered across the room and we sit messily together among the chaos.

She tilts her head to the side and I graze my lips across her ear, taking her head gently into my hands, her soft, blond hair curling around my fingertips. She seems delicate, a treasure to hold.

I kiss the outer slope of her eat, nibbling slightly, following her heavy signs. I plant small kissed across her jawline, creating a path towards her pink lips, swollen and ever-pouting. She looks delicious. I grasp her bottom lip ever so gently between my teeth and tug a bit. She grunts in response and the sound of her, so primal, makes me wet.

I lace both hands into the waves of her hair and use my newly found control to move her head around slightly, remembering how Richard had done something similar to me when I was over his knee. She moans at the sensation, enjoying it just as much as I did and I smile in response, pleased to see her responding to my touch to beautifully.

I release her bottom lip and pull her head towards me. Our lips collide and she parts hers, instinctively, responding to each greedy kiss of mine with eager acceptance.

I let loose her hair and run my hands down her body, under her tank top, and pull it over her shoulders. Then, I lay her down, my delicate doll and startle her waist.

"I missed you," she pants, excited and filled with sexual tension.

I run the back of my hand across her face, "I missed you, too, beautiful".

A dark blush graces her tanned skin.

I move her arms above her head and trace my fingertips down them, to her underarms. Once I reach my destination, she giggles loudly and jerks her hands down to defend herself.

Patiently, I place her arms back where they were and repeat the same action, this time grasping her underarms and digging in my fingers so that she can't jerk me away.

Nicole shrieks. "Oh my god, no, that tickles!"

"Oh, does it?" I tease, "really?"

I dig my fingers in again and she curls up around me, thrashing and squirming desperately.

"If you hate it so much, then why are you so-" in a swift, fluid motion I glide one hand down under her leggings and panties, right on top of her pussy, already so "wet?"

She relaxes deeply and moans at my touch.

"I don't hate it," she confesses in a breathless whisper.

"Then you best sit still, or I'll have to tie you up" I tease, bravely testing the water. I wonder if Nicole is kinky. If she's ever tried BDSM the way that Richard and Catherine and now, I guess I have.

She laughs in return, "Oh no," she says with mock sarcasm, "anything but that."

It is a surprisingly willing response. You know, actually, I say, I could.. My voice goes quiet and we are caught stating in each other eyes.

You could? She asks just as quietly, It's just I've always thought about...I mean, it's always been a fantasy of mine to be tied up and, you know. She laughs.

"I know how to do it safely," I assure her. I reach over to the night stand and grab my purse, taking out the length of red hemp rope that Richard gave me to practice with

"Wow," she admires, that beautiful. Where did you get that?

It was a gift, I say, technically not a lie.

Do you want me to show you the tie that I know how to do.

She nods enthusiastically, and I instruct her to hold out her wrists, palm up.

She does, so I double the ropes and wrap them around her wrist one way, then back the other way, going through the original nite. She astates, impressed with my work.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"the same friends who gave me the rope taught me,

I coil the rope between her wrists and tie it off, leaving a long lease of hemp and a handle between her wrists. I grasp the handle and move he handle around gently.

That feels great, she smiles.

"Thanks," and I find myself blushing.

"Oh, "I remember. I have to tell you about safe words, if you're tied up.

"Okay"

"Okay, so if you want me to stop and untie you, you say, red."

"Okay"

"And if want me to slow down and, you know, ticking you less, but not totally untie you, you just say yellow."

"Like a traffic light."

I laugh, "I guess so."

"That's an awesome system."

"Yeah, I like it"

"No, seriously, Cause, whenever I've played this kind of way before people always stop when I say stop but I don't really mean stop you know? Ugh, it's so hard to explain. I just wish there was a way to difference between just pretend stop and for real stop."

"Red means for real stop."

"Yeah, Okay, that sounds good. I think...I think let's do it."

I lay her back once again, setting her beautifully bound wrists above her head. She squirms playfully, pretending to try and escape. I wonder how she feels, but then I think back to when I was kneeling before Richard, my chest tied in a rope harness, and how wonderfully exposed yet free I felt. How blissful it was to begin to be dressed in ropes, beginning to surrender control. I wonder if Nicole can taste a little bit of that feeling now.

Her soft sighs send heat rushing between my legs and I sit on top of her, straddling her hips. Then I begin tracing my fingers across her arms again. She jerks her tied wrists down.

"Well, that's a problem," I tease.

She laughs and sticks out her tongue at me.

"Oh, now you're in for it."

I take the long length of rope falling from her wrists and lead it up to the black metal bars of the headboard, securing it there. Nicole lays, arms extended upward, squirming and helpless and a brief flash of something crosses her face as it starts to sink in just how helpless she really is in this position.

I resume my position and wiggle my fingers teasingly just above her underarms.

She begins to giggle, even before I touch her, and I laugh along with her.

"Well, you're fucked, aren't you?"

Nicole bites her lip and nods innocently. I take that as my cue to lower my fingers and attack her sensitive, defenseless skin. Her mouth opens into a shriek.

"Stop it. No. Please. Aaah, God!" She says in quick, jolted burst of sound

"Sorry," I reply, "But none of those are your safeword, so..."

I tickle her even faster and harder and she trashes her head from side to side, screaming and pleading, but never saying 'red' or even 'yellow'. So, I keep going, wiggling my fingers down her sides and up again. By far, the best reaction, though, comes when I am merciless on her underarms. She kicks and cries out and laughs with an intensity I've never heard in her voice before, even when coaching. It's as if this is Nicole's way of letting go and finding freedom.

And the most delicious part is that, each time Nicole laughs, it fills me with a bubbling sense of happiness and laughter too. I can feel her enthusiastic energy transmitting. Her moans and struggles and pleading on the other hand, have quite the opposite effect on me. They strike something deep and primal in me, that taste for a little more power and control than most people every get to experience. Because, while Nicole is delightfully helpless, I am engorged on enough power and control for the both of us and it is almost enough to make me feel slightly high.

I run my fingers up Nicole's neck, even her face seems to be ticklish and she giggles sweetly under the brushes of my finger tips. I trace her lips, a perfect little heart, and lean down to press my lips to hers again. She lifts her head, craning towards me, wanting me and the feeling, to be desired, feeds my hunger for her power. I kiss her as if I am sucking it from her, until she is limp and submissive under my touch.

I lift my leg over Nicole's body, sitting next to her.

"Now," I say, lifting edging her gray shorts lower just an inch, "Let's see how wet that made you this time."

My hand crosses the border of her shorts and she gasps, tugging at the ropes, feeling her own helplessness. I tickle lightly on the smooth mound of skin I find there, and she rocks her hips towards the sensation. Then I continue my path downward onto slick skin; this is the most turned on I've seen Nicole. She blushes hard, knowing exactly what I am feeling.

I press the heel of my palm against her clit and rub deep small circles for her before sliding two fingers into her. I am rocking my hand, fucking Nicole gently, watching her struggle mildly with the rope. I know exactly what she is doing. She is enjoying the feeling of being restrained. She is pulling against the rope to make the rope more obvious in her mind. It is turning her on.

She moans softly with each inward tilt of my hand and I pick up the pace. Her volume increases, and it is sweet music to my ears. I love making her respond under my touch this way. I follow her sounds, getting faster and fast until I am thrusting my fingers hard into her as she tugs as the rope and arches her back at the feeling, gasping in short and rhythmic pants.

"I'm...going...can...I?" the need in her voice and the fact that she would ask instead of just surrendering to the sensation; it is delicious.

"Come," I breathe.

She does, shaking and writing against her bounds. It is glorious to watch, to feel her respond so exquisitely around to me. I rest my hand on top of her, waiting for her breathing to slow down. Then, I slowly untie her and massage her arms as I lower them, then cuddle up beside her, laying her head in the crook of my arm.

"That was the best almost make-up sex I've ever had," she laughs.

"Almost?" I ask, genuinely confused, but laughing for the sake of comradery.

"Well, yeah, silly, 'cause you're a girl and I'm straight so this doesn't count."

"Um, Nicole," I laugh genuinely this time, "I don't think you're straight."

Suddenly she's sitting up, defensive, "Grace, you don't get to tell me who I am. I don't tell you who you are."

"Okay," I hold my hands up, "I'm sorry, I was just...I'm just saying you seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Yes," she agrees, "as two girls, fooling around and that's it. I couldn't, like, date you, Grace; you're my best friend. Besides, I'm dating Brad."

She covers her mouth as if she wasn't supposed to tell me that piece of information.

"It's okay," I assure her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I said you could."

"You promise you're not mad?" She pouts and it is adorable.

"No, stupid," I grab a pillow and thwack her in the head with it, "now come on and actually help me pack."