The first length of soft-cotton rope binds my wrists together, and secures them to the headboard of our new brass bed. The second, draws my right ankle to the far corner of the footboard. The last, draws my left ankle to the near corner. A neatly folded silk scarf robs me of my sight. I am on my back: naked, and open. Completely at Aaron's mercy . . .
How did I get into this delicious predicament? Well, let's just say, that when properly stroked, my ego can easily land me in some very interesting situations.
This one began in early December, when our local volunteer fire company announced plans to put-on a lingerie fashion show to raise the last five thousand dollars needed for the purchase of a new pumper truck. Their chief – one of Aaron's good buds – was chairman of the event, and convinced (took all of two minutes) my dear husband to help in the search for hard-bodies (as Aaron called us) to model the teddies, negligees, etc that Victoria's Secret was donating for the event. Now I admit that I have never been shy about wearing sexy (and often revealing) outfits in public, but the idea of walking down that runway alongside my fellow supermodels was a bit intimidating. Nonetheless, after a bit of cajoling, negotiating (and a promise to let me live-out a scene from a romance novel I'd been reading), I agreed to join the cast.
The show was scheduled for Saturday February the 8th. The idea was, that with Valentines Day being so close at hand, that the all-male audience would be more than willing to part with their hard earned money as they envisioned their wives and girlfriends all hot and bothered (and putting-out) in their sexy new outfits on that most romantic of days. It was genius. The turnout was unbelievable, and our new truck should be arriving sometime this summer.
As for the rush I got from modeling my first outfit ( bright red camisole; white sheer panties; white lace stockings and electric blue spike-heels), it was incredible!
A week and a day has gone by since that fantasy-come-true, and less than twelve hours since my venture into the world of Marianna Halston, the waitress-turned-supermodel, that is the heroine of the latest bit of mind candy I've been reading.
Marianna comes from humble beginnings. Her father is manager of the local hardware store, where he's worked since highschool. Her mother, is a secretary for an insurance agent who pays her minimum wage, since he is just starting out . She has three older sisters – all of whom are hugely successful – that consider their baby sis to be their inferior. Her whole life, she has had to make do. Although she is your quintessential girl-next-door, she is oblivious to her own beauty. She has long, dark hair that hangs loosely about her shoulders. Her deep green eyes sparkle with the excitement of youth. Her long, lean legs just won't quit; and her full, well-rounded breasts are the envy of every woman she meets. She has just turned twenty-one, and begun working as a server at a popular sports bar to pay her way through engineering school. One fateful day, she is discovered by this high-powered agent who whisks her off to London to work the most coveted photo shoot of the season. She cannot believe her luck! The show is a make-or-break for the designer. Can she pull-it-off? Of course! Marianna is a smash hit and helps land a multi-million dollar order. In the process, she falls hard for the designer, and willingly gives herself over to his wild sexual desires.
"Strip for me, and lie on the bed." he says, "I want to tie you there and fuck you like you've never been fucked before . . ."
Aaron's lips lightly brush mine. The kiss is far to brief.
"You're mine." he whispers.
His warm breath caresses my cheek. The tip of his tongue traces the contour of my ear.
"Your body is mine to do with as I please."
His fingertips glide across my breast. He squeezes; kneads my swelling boobs.
"You have no say. All you can do is lay there and enjoy. Take it."
His lips mold to my armpit. His tongue: tickling. Panic begins to wash over me. I struggle to escape his tortuous tongue. I'm trapped. I giggle uncontrollably. "Please. No!" I beg. The assault continues. My giggles turn to full-blown laughter. "Aaron!" I fight to catch my breath. "Pleaseeeee . . . Nooooo . . ." My heart is pounding. The tickling persists. I'm laughing so hard that my ribs ache. "Pleeeeease!" The tickling escalates. I'm gasping for air. "You bastard!" I laugh. Never has my love so cruelly exploited my weakness. "Please . . . Aaron . . . Stop!" His tongue flutters faster. "I . . . I . . . Please!" My pussy begins to tingle. My god. I'm cumming!
Finally; his tongue flattens against me: a rough lick ends the siege.
