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Authors: Vina Jackson
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kit appeared; a length of thick black rope attached at the top end to sturdy iron hoops. The trap door and rig was not part of my design, and I had been over each inch of the plans for the dungeon, and signed off on every last whip and paddle. Aurelia must have planned all this.
The rope dropped down and Vincent caught it easily in his palm.
His robe was now untied, revealing the centre length of his torso, his inner thighs and calves and the dangling spectacle of his ball sack. His cock was fully erect and swung as he moved. Aurelia was circling around us, still toying with the flogger she held, waiting for her chance to smack the leather hide against my skin.
Music began to play. The lush tones of Lana del Rey rose up around us. It was a record that Dominik had often listened to, one that I knew he favoured when he was writing a bittersweet scene, something that required a deep layer of melancholy. Sadness began to well up inside me as I remembered the games that we had played together, the elaborate lengths to which Dominik had gone to tease my senses and bring my body, heart, soul and mind right to the edge of reason. Anything else would never be the same, I realised then. Vincent only had access to my body, and perhaps a portion of my mind. Whatever pain or pleasure he and Aurelia could inflict on me would only ever be surface level. To reach the depths, I needed more. I needed love. And that was not something that I could ever get from the Ball, these manifestations of sexuality that crossed and even celebrated every boundary and taboo in existence and yet could not bind people together. Few of the Ball’s guests knew each other outside of these annual or bi-annual festivals. They barely spoke during the events themselves, they just fucked.
I was growing tired of it all.
I wanted something different, something more than sex.
My body was getting by well enough, but without music, and without Dominik, I had nothing and no one to nourish my soul.
The rope pressed against my skin. Soft, at first, but as Vincent expanded his web the bonds became tighter. My breasts had been bound into a corset that squeezed them until they were unnaturally prominent, jutting out from my chest, my nipples hard, pink and proud. My waist and thighs were circled in a harness and my arms pulled behind me, my wrists tied behind my back. He methodically bound my calves to my thighs, with my knees bent and my heels pressed against my buttocks. By the time that he had finished I was tied like a spider’s fly, ready for eating. My mind floated in a state of deep relaxation so it took me a few moments to notice that I was slowly moving, winched up inch by inch on the rig. Several points held me steady; a network of ropes linked to the bonds at my hips, shoulders, and each ankle, splaying my bent legs apart. I was flying, belly down.
I felt the whip, then. Not lashing against my limbs but rather softly caressing the parts of my skin that remained uncovered, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my nipples and down again to my bare cunt. When the rope stopped, fingers took its place. Two sets of hands. Aurelia and Vincent; squeezing, probing. I had begun responding bodily to their ministrations long ago and my pussy was soaking wet. Was she using the whip’s handle to penetrate me? My breath rasped. My throat was dry and I longed for a glass of water. I licked my lips. Something wet was pushed against my mouth and I sucked, greedily. Fingers coated with wine. Then another pair of lips pressed against mine. They were full and firm, the kiss too rough to be Aurelia’s. It was Vincent. I kissed him back.
Another rope was looped over my head and rested around my throat. It began to tighten. I shifted my shoulders, instinctively trying to bring my hands up to protect my neck but I couldn’t, my wrists were secured firmly behind my back. Dominik’s image and voice appeared again in my head. My lingering ghost. He had always teased me about
The rope dropped down and Vincent caught it easily in his palm.
His robe was now untied, revealing the centre length of his torso, his inner thighs and calves and the dangling spectacle of his ball sack. His cock was fully erect and swung as he moved. Aurelia was circling around us, still toying with the flogger she held, waiting for her chance to smack the leather hide against my skin.
Music began to play. The lush tones of Lana del Rey rose up around us. It was a record that Dominik had often listened to, one that I knew he favoured when he was writing a bittersweet scene, something that required a deep layer of melancholy. Sadness began to well up inside me as I remembered the games that we had played together, the elaborate lengths to which Dominik had gone to tease my senses and bring my body, heart, soul and mind right to the edge of reason. Anything else would never be the same, I realised then. Vincent only had access to my body, and perhaps a portion of my mind. Whatever pain or pleasure he and Aurelia could inflict on me would only ever be surface level. To reach the depths, I needed more. I needed love. And that was not something that I could ever get from the Ball, these manifestations of sexuality that crossed and even celebrated every boundary and taboo in existence and yet could not bind people together. Few of the Ball’s guests knew each other outside of these annual or bi-annual festivals. They barely spoke during the events themselves, they just fucked.
I was growing tired of it all.
I wanted something different, something more than sex.
My body was getting by well enough, but without music, and without Dominik, I had nothing and no one to nourish my soul.
The rope pressed against my skin. Soft, at first, but as Vincent expanded his web the bonds became tighter. My breasts had been bound into a corset that squeezed them until they were unnaturally prominent, jutting out from my chest, my nipples hard, pink and proud. My waist and thighs were circled in a harness and my arms pulled behind me, my wrists tied behind my back. He methodically bound my calves to my thighs, with my knees bent and my heels pressed against my buttocks. By the time that he had finished I was tied like a spider’s fly, ready for eating. My mind floated in a state of deep relaxation so it took me a few moments to notice that I was slowly moving, winched up inch by inch on the rig. Several points held me steady; a network of ropes linked to the bonds at my hips, shoulders, and each ankle, splaying my bent legs apart. I was flying, belly down.
I felt the whip, then. Not lashing against my limbs but rather softly caressing the parts of my skin that remained uncovered, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my nipples and down again to my bare cunt. When the rope stopped, fingers took its place. Two sets of hands. Aurelia and Vincent; squeezing, probing. I had begun responding bodily to their ministrations long ago and my pussy was soaking wet. Was she using the whip’s handle to penetrate me? My breath rasped. My throat was dry and I longed for a glass of water. I licked my lips. Something wet was pushed against my mouth and I sucked, greedily. Fingers coated with wine. Then another pair of lips pressed against mine. They were full and firm, the kiss too rough to be Aurelia’s. It was Vincent. I kissed him back.
Another rope was looped over my head and rested around my throat. It began to tighten. I shifted my shoulders, instinctively trying to bring my hands up to protect my neck but I couldn’t, my wrists were secured firmly behind my back. Dominik’s image and voice appeared again in my head. My lingering ghost. He had always teased me about
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