Rope had been something of a disappointing experience to Helen.
Rex had, as usual when she expressed a desire to do something, spent hours learning how to do it well. Some people took years learning how to master
shibari
, and of course Rex hadn't had years and in any case the only thing he wanted to master was Helen. But nonetheless he wanted to be at least competent.
So it wasn't lack of skill that made rope a disappointing experience. Rex had been a boy scout once and he picked up the basics fast. He could stop her from walking by tying her calves to her thighs in something called a 'futomomo.' He could bind her wrists to the bed posts, or tie them behind her and then wrap rope around her arms and chest in something that had a zillion names but which Rex usually called a 'TK' which was short for something Japanese.
No, Rex could tie her and tie her well.
And she liked being helpless. When she was tied up, she knew she was at his mercy. That was lovely. She could pretend that he might do all sorts of evil things. He didn't need to ask her first because she couldn't resist. She loved that part.
What she didn't love was that Rex didn't love it. There was a physical manifestation to that. It did not, in general, make him hard, the way he got when she slowly stripped for him, for instance. Apparently, to tie the knots that held her fast, Rex had to be thinking with his head, and not his dick, and while that was generally the way she wanted men to be, it was not the way she wanted Rex to be when she was naked and helpless, her breasts pointing toward him, compressed between strands of rope - four on top, four below.
He sometimes took pictures; they posted them on Fetlife. That was fun. But it was after he'd taken the rope off, lovingly maintaining tension until the last possible moment, sensuously moving the fibers across her skin, that his desire came to the fore. Then, he'd order her, untied, to suck his cock, or to slide him between her breasts. After, with her hands and legs free, would he press her down and fuck her hard.
Today, the ropes were off, and he held her wrists down when he entered her. She loved that. She drifted away, pretending for a moment that he wasn't her darling loving husband, but perhaps some fierce Viking invader, and she a helpless Saxon princess.
She fantasized about him forcing her, knowing he wouldn't, really; knowing he couldn't, with her happy to give him whatever he wanted. But at that moment, imagining something she'd never want to have actually happen, her fantasies and the sensation of being filled by his hard cock and the bouncing of his body against his shaking her clit and even the fact that she couldn't rub her clit the way she wanted because he had her hands held - all of that made her cum.
And that made him grin and fuck her harder. He tightened his grip around her wrists. Which started another orgasm, which made him growl, which made her cum again.
"You dirty little slut!" he yelled at her.
"Yes! Your dirty little slut!" she yelled back.
"Take this!" he yelled, pounding into her, banging her cervix with the head of his cock.
"Anything!"
"You're my fucktoy!"
"Show me! Cum in me!"
And then they both went off simultaneously, panting, moaning, not sure where one of them left off and the other one started. They were, in that moment, one soul and one flesh.
Of course, eventually, he had to roll off. He opened his mouth, and she feared he was about to apologize for calling her the names that had turned her on. So she spoke, quickly. "Thank you for tying me up."
"You're welcome."
She kissed him.
He didn't apologize, but just grinned. He looked smug, and in that moment she loved that.
"You don't love tying me, do you?" she asked.
"It makes some beautiful pictures," he said. "It's fine."
"Fine," she repeated.
"Good," he amended.
"You need to find a way to make it yours, rather than something you do to, well, amuse me. Or... otherwise, you need to just grab me and hold me down and fuck me without all the accoutrements, because that was fucking amazing."
"You've got a bit of a potty mouth," he noted.
"You could punish me for that," she suggested, hopefully.
He laughed. "That would end up being a reward, not a punishment."
"Well, a spanking would, sure. But you could come up with something else."
"Why would I want to punish my perfect wife?"
"Because she has a potty mouth?"
"I wasn't objecting, I was just noting that you'd used fuck twice in one sentence."
"Consider it entered into the record. You know, you could tie me up at the club. The way you flogged me. I think you like some of these things better with an audience."
He propped his head up on one arm and looked thoughtful.
"Well, why not?" Helen prompted.
"They've seen rope there. I think some of them are bored by rope, actually. But in any case, there's guys there doing suspensions and all sorts of crazy shit. You want to be suspended, Helen?"
"It'd be fun, I guess, to do once. I don't know that it's sexy. Or that it would make me feel, you know, the thing I want to feel."
"Owned."
"Yes. That. Owned. By you." She kissed him again. "The way I feel when I imagine you are doing exactly what you want and using me for your entertainment."
"Yeah. Anyway, I liked making you the center of attention. That turned me on. But I don't think I can do that with rope, or at least, not just rope. There are too many people there who can do it better. And while maybe I can get to the point where I have you tied upside down by one leg -"
"I'm not sure
I
could get to that point," Helen said. "I'm not as young as I once was."
"As far as I can tell, you're three years younger than me, just like you were when I met you. Hasn't changed a bit. Still a cute young thing, relative to me. Anyway, while I could get to that point, it doesn't look sexy to me. I mean, a little bit, because people do it naked and some of the ties draw attention to tits and ass and all - but mostly, it's more like a circus act."
"I remember you getting quite turned on by that trapeze artist, once."
"That was the costume and her, not the fact that she was flying through the air. The flying through the air part was awe inspiring and frightening, and if anything happened to those legs it would be a loss to humanity."
"I don't know. Less competition for those of us with normal legs."
He stared at her.
"Kidding. I don't mind in the least that you looked and enjoyed. Especially as I still catch you checking me out, now and then, after all these years."
He grinned. "Guilty as charged."
"Too bad I don't have the least desire to lock
you
up."
