A note on the use of the terms RED, YELLOW and GREEN in this story: They are a gage. Red is not the Sub's safe word, it does mean stop, but it can go back to green. It is also at the Dom's discretion to not stop if only the colors are used and the sub already knows this. The sub does have a safe word and is expected to use it if she needs to.
Throat Pt. 02
The elevator stops on your floor. My stomach does a little lurch as the doors open. Suddenly you are all smiles again in the open hallway. Your arm is around my waist and you are carrying my bag as we head to your room. There is no one else here but your public face is back on. I feel like I'm getting whiplashed. I'm having trouble keeping up with you. I'm too emotional, too excited, too scared. I can feel myself trembling slightly and hope against hope that you don't feel it too. I swallow hard as you walk into the room.
One last steadying breath and I follow you in. I look up and you are facing me. Watching me. I remember you said to strip. I strip. I'm too jumpy and nervous to do anything like a sexy slow striptease. I just sort of fumble my way out of my clothes. As I reach out to toss them to the side I notice my hand is shaking. It's probably both from fear and excitement but I can't really tell. I wonder what you are thinking. Are you planning how you are going to tie me up? Are you judging me, my clothes, my body... my ridiculous jumpiness. Do you like me off balance like this? Are you immersed in the moment? I can't read you, you are just standing there watching and waiting.
"Confirm your safeword, say it. I need to hear you say it before we begin."
"Mercy Sir..."
You turn away leaving me standing naked by the door. I want to follow, to ask what I should do. This night is for you. I want to ask you a million questions about how to make it better for you. But you said no talking. So I take another long deep breath and wait. And wait...
Your back is to me, I can't see what you are doing. I see some sort of rope and hear some clinking. I've never been hogtied. I've had my wrists and ankles restrained in the past. I've had my knees tied apart. But I've never been hogtied. I have an old injury (right shoulder and elbow). You know about it. I wonder if I will be able to bear the stress of the restraints. I'm worried about aggravating the injury, getting hurt, disappointing you... I don't want that. I want you to enjoy tonight. I just don't know what to do for you. So I just stand there, trembling.
You call me over, you are quiet, firm, sure of yourself. You don't explain anything. You push me face down on the bed. It's uncomfortable. My breasts get in the way. I never lay face down because of them. Even during sex. If I'm getting taken from behind I'm always up on my knees or standing. Flat on my stomach just doesn't work. You ignore my discomfort. You notice it but choose to ignore it.
You start tying me up and to my relief you somehow secure my right arm to my side without pulling it back behind me. Then you wrench my left arm back and tie my left wrist and pull it as close to my right elbow as it will go. I'm not used to this. It hurts. You keep going. Tying me up. It takes longer than I expected. I'm getting a little worried. Normally when restrained I still have some range of motion. Here with you I have none. I can't move anything but my head. My breasts are getting very sore, squashed under me. And you've been leaning on me as you bind me making the pain harder to endure.
You start gathering my hair back... it's long, it hangs almost to my waist. I don't know how you are using it with the binding but it's the first thing you've done that registers as pleasant. I like the feel of your fingers in my hair. Even the slight pulling you are doing as you work on it is pleasurable. I hear a quiet moan. It takes me a second to realize it's my own. You stop working on my hair.
I'm lying crosswise on the bed and my face is buried in some old towels. They're not mine. You must have brought some too. I struggle just a little to see if there is any give in the bindings, there isn't. A sharp stinging pain followed by a bloom of warmth spreads on the side of one of my ass cheeks.
"Don't struggle, not yet, we haven't even started." your voice is hard, warning me to behave. I shudder. I love that. Being warned and given an immediate corrective stroke to help your words sink into every fiber of my being.