Fit to be Tied

Sir tied me up recently. It has been a busy couple of months, with family obligations and work taking precedence. This has meant no time for tying.

*sad face*

For me, being restrained is a favourite. It makes Sir laugh as I drip moisture down my thighs even after the ropes have been removed. I love the marks on my skin that slowly fade.

Sir combined clothespins with the ropes this time. He had me place the pins, then he tied a torso harness, and my arms. He used a crop for the funishment, punctuated with the snapping off of the clothespins with the bat-end.

He saved the clip that I complained was the most painful for last. It was high on my right breast, almost directly over my nipple. When it snapped off my skin, I hissed. It was too painful for me to make a bigger noise.

Remembering to breathe. Remembering Sir’s instructions for counting. (To 30 by sevens! In French! In Italian!) Difficult, but worth the feel on his nails scraping over my newly-sensitised skin.


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