DISCLAIMER:
All and any Breath Play displayed in this story and all MY stories should NEVER be attempted without the proper education and caution and precautions and trustworthy partner.
EDUCATION IS KEY!
Author Note:
This chapter is dedicated to a particular correspondent I've had the recent pleasure sharing feedback with. She'll know who she is!
MUCH LOVE & ALWAYS PLAY SAFE!
*****
Around and around, wrap by snug wrap the red silk rope bound Rosangela's wrists.
It was the first time in her life she ever experienced the sensation of rope bondage and the experience was beyond her imagination or expectations. She was in awe, not only about being bound by the brilliant red rope but completely awed by the concentration and focus throughout Victor Hardway's expression.
She felt as if she were truly witnessing the development of true art as his hands worked the rope expertly. His eyes were focused and followed every motion of his hands and fingers. She could almost see the reflection of his actions within the nearly black depths of his brown eyes. She realized, she was taking part of his true artistic medium, an artist who worked with the softness of silken rope in a chosen brilliant red.
Her eyes and head followed each of his movements as his hands intricately coiled the rope around and around the length of her arms. She anticipated the moment the two ends of the rope would come together, curious to where they would meet on her body.
Every brush of his fingertips sent her anticipation higher and each twist and wrap of the rope raised the level even higher. She felt as if she were a blank human canvas being swirled by pure red that grew more and more vibrant against the paleness of her skin and the pure black of the vinyl corset.
Once her arms were snugly coiled by the rope they were guided raised above her head. The binding around her wrists was attached to a dangling hook which was linked by rope with a pulley rigging bolted to the high ceiling of the loft bedroom.
Her eyes peered forward as he stepped back then watched as he turned and moved towards a brick foundation beam. Her eyes remained wide, watched him unwrap a rope from the hook bolted to the brick. Her head slowly titled back as her eyes peered upward at the pulley.
The pulley moved, the rope linked to her wrists was guided. Bit by bit she felt the rope begin to tug as the pulley softly squeaked with its turns. Slowly, the rope tensing, she rose up on her knees while atop the bed. Her arms straightened at the elbows as the rope was guided tighter and higher. Soon she was on her knees, unable to lower by the firm tension.
Her head dropped and eyes looked to him as he snugly secured the rope wrapping it around the wall hook. Her heart quickly pounded as it raced within her chest which steadily heaved. The fleshy mounds of her tits were more exposed by the upward stretch of her arms, nipples half exposed.
Her eyes remained widely focused on him, watched him momentarily remove his fedora then remove the v-neck sweater.
Atop his head the fedora was returned then he returned before her.
Without skipping a beat, he returned to his masterful art of coiling and wrapping her body with the lengthy rope. Crisscrossed over her chest, the rope was twisted and snug between her vinyl encased tits. Around her torso the rope was wrapped then knotted as he worked down to the curve of her hips.
She was silent throughout it all, focused on him and his undoubted concentration of his expertise. Each little tightening tug of the rope jolted her excitement. Every twist and knot secured her further within his artistic vision. She felt every graze of his hands and fingers as the rope was brought into the crease of her thighs and hips. The silken rope rubbed against the outer sides of her anticipating pussy, stimulating the neatly trimmed hairs and silky against the cleanly shaven bikini line.
The roping of red throughout her body was finished. The rope secured in a harness form, it was given a final knotting at her hips.
He took a step back on bare feet and admired the bold red which played beautifully against her pale skin and the rich black of the corset. Yes, he thought, perfect.
He stepped further back, neared the tripod with the camera set atop. Behind the tripod and camera he stepped. His eye peered at her through the camera lens, perfectly he adjusted the angle and focus. His finger pressed a button.
Her eyes blinked upon the sound of the first camera click which was followed within seconds by another then another. She refocused on him, he had left the tripod, the camera left to automatically snap photos at a steady rate. She watched as he stepped to the open doorway of a what she assumed was a closet.
Her eyes frowned then she questioned, "What ya doing?" She continued to frown, he said nothing and entered the closet.
She took a deep breath, in a quite precarious situation she was in. She was basically bound helpless, only use was the lower half of her body. There was no choice but to sit there propped on her knees while the camera continuously snapped photos.
He stepped out the closet with another tripod and different camera then approached the bed.
She immediately recognized in his hand was a video camera and questioned, "Making a movie?"
He set up the tripod, glanced at her with a grin then explained, "Since you've come into my inspirational line of sight," he proceeded to set up the video camera, "Many things have changed." his eyes looked into hers and held them, "Isn't that what you suggested, a change in my process?"
A deceptively innocent smile crossed her lips then with a nod, she agreed, "Yeah, I did."
He focused on the video camera, checked the focus and stated, "Well, change achieved."
He stepped around the video camera.
Through the eye of the recording video camera Rosangela's brightly red entwined torso was in perfect view as he stepped up to her.
She slightly had to peer up at him, loved the focused expression within the detailed features of his handsome face, especially his eyes. His eyes were always the one direct feature she always admired within all those author images at the back of his many books. His eyes were the most expressive but became more so when every other distinct feature about his face came to life which she witnessed throughout those short few days.
His eyes shifted in the direction his hand lifted and aimed towards. His right hand index fingertip very lightly touched against the smooth labret pierced within the center of her full bottom lip. As if the tip of an artist's pencil, he feathery traced his fingertip over the very edge her mouth's lovely shape.
Eyes focused on his actions, he confessed, "I never considered videoing until now." his fingertip pressed along the crease of her lips, "I want to capture every little detail in any way imaginable at my disposal until I'm permitted to capture you on canvas."
She loved his voice, the manner he spoke and his tone. There was such a difference hearing the voice of the man who fed all her fantasies with the written word. She had always tried to imagine his voice but was so pleased that she was far from what it truly was, for his voice was much more than expected.
Her eyes studied him as his did her then they shifted as he stepped to the right.
He lifted his hand and gestured she had to wait with his finger.
His bare feet stepped silently over the sealed concrete floor, moved to an antique side table.
He lifted the lid of an intricately carved cigar box, removed a cigar then closed the lid. He tucked the cigar between his lips as he turned, dug his lighter from his pants pocket.
His eyes focused on her as he lit the cigar. He deeply inhaled as the cigar glowed cherry then returned the lighter into his pocket. His hand reached back to the brass handle of the side table drawer. Without deviating his eyes from her, the drawer was slid open then he reached inside fetching something particular which was quickly tucked into his pants pocket.
Drawer closed, he casually strolled her direction, drew back the cigar then exhaled and questioned with a puff of smoke, "Do you or have you ever smoked?" His hand reached and fetched the amber toned ashtray from the chair side table. He continued forward.
Her mind screamed, he was beyond sexy when he smoked those fragrant cigars and more so that he was shirtless wearing his signature fedora.
She answered with a confession, "I'm an opportunist smoker as in on occasions with friends."
He continued to step forward with slow casual steps, took another lengthy drag. Another stream of smoke, he asked, "Have you heard of forced smoking?"
Her eyes slightly frowned, she heard the term, and answered, "Yeah."
He grinned, stopped just near the corner of the bed. Curiously his head titled then he inquired, "How far have you gone into breath play?"
She thought for a moment, wondered what was with all the questions. Her eyes trailed a bit, felt somewhat awkward having a Q&A session in the midst of her being bound and stretched while propped on her knees. She was definitely ready to get the show on the road.
Back to his curious expression her eyes returned then she asked, "Why?"
