The Red Ribbon – Continued

“You’ve had a busy afternoon, slave.”

I didn’t hear you as you made your way up the stairs. I had no idea you were there at your bedroom door until you had spoken. My heart did the oh-so-familiar slow back flip – love, trust and longing swelling inside me.

“Yes, master.” I tried to hide the small smile of satisfaction, but I’m sure it showed anyway.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see that you’d prepared so much.”

“I hoped you would be pleased, Master.” I kept my gaze on the ceiling, no matter how much I wanted to see your face, to see in your eyes the pleasure my actions had created. At least, I hoped you were pleased, and that my actions had not met with disapproval. I had never entered your apartment without permission before, and I was still unsure if this was a transgression of my role.

“Almost, slave. I am almost pleased.” I can hear you step further into the room, walking towards where I lay. The mattress shifts slightly with your weight as you move onto the bed. I swallow, my mind whirling with what could have displeased you. Was it that I danced and stripped without your permission? Danced and stripped in front of someone else? Or had I forgotten something else?

I can feel your body heat as you kneel over me, your hands on either side of my outstretched arms. I can see your eyes, and the look of approval, amusement and desire glinting within. Slowly you lower your head and capture my lips with a sweet kiss. “There’s just one little thing wrong.”

“I am sorry, master.” I drop my eyes from yours in shame. I hate displeasing you. If only I could remember what it was. Did I choose the wrong song? Did that song have another meaning for you and you never wanted your slave to perform to it? What could it be?

You chuckle, and caress my cheek. “Look at me.” I raise my eyes, and see that your amusement has increased. “You weren’t to know,” you say as you kiss me again and lower your body onto mine. I moan slightly at the feel of your jeans on my naked thighs, the heat from your body emanating through the denim. Your tongue delves into my mouth, claiming, as you run your hands up along my arms to undo the wrist cuffs.

Holding my hands in yours, you move my arms to my sides, before releasing my lips to enable your own to trail along my jaw and down my throat, burning the skin with desire and leaving an invisible brand. I arch my back as your tongue lays claim to first one nipple and then the other through the lace, your hands sliding beneath me to release the clasp. Slowly, tenderly, you slide the straps from my shoulders and down my arms, before tossing aside the garment. Your hands again caress, your thumbs moving just below my now taut nipples, teasing just enough to make me want to move, to make me want more, which of course was your intention.

You move your mouth along my stomach, your hands moving down as well. Your tongue traces circles and patterns across my abdomen, my stomach, on my hips, before you place your mouth onto the lace covering my cunt. I can feel your tongue stroking me through the cloth, and I raise my hips – wanting more as always. Again, your hands move beneath me, squeezing my ass, fingers kneading, pressing into my flesh, lifting me higher, and pressing me against your mouth.

Kneeling, you lower me back to the bed, running your hands along my outer thighs to my knees, when you moved your hands slightly, running the palms down along the back of my thighs, your fingers caressing me lightly. You reverse the motion, moving along the backs of my legs before running your hands up my outer thighs, and then beneath the lace of my panties and pulling them down slowly. I raise my hips again to assist you. You lean forward, gently probing your tongue between my lips to slowly lick against my clit once. Absently, I noticed that the black lace panties had joined the matching bra on the floor. I couldn’t remember you finally removing them; I wanted more of your mouth. Which, of course, you denied me.

Again, you position your body against mine. I can feel your erection pressing through your jeans, increasing my heat of longing. You kiss me deeply again, before raising your head and looking deep into my eyes.

“You weren’t to know, slave,” you say, your voice deep with arousal and more. “I prefer my presents gift-wrapped.”

Suddenly, my vision was filled with red as you placed the ribbon over my eyes. Before I am blindfolded, I can see that you have made two rolls with the ribbon. I had bought 50 metres, giving me more than enough to weave through your apartment, and obviously more than enough for whatever you had in mind. I feel your breath against my ear as you whisper “Especially with a big red bow.”

At your prompt, I raise my head as you wrap the ribbon behind my head, crossing it before bringing it back around, slowly moving the rolls to caress my shoulders and the top of my breasts. The lengths of ribbon cross at my breastbone, where you hold them with one hand, the other gently sliding under my back, lifting me. The ribbon runs beneath my breasts, the edge scraping my skin. You wrap the ribbon around my stomach and waist twice, both times holding the rolls against my skin as you slide your hand beneath me to guide.

I feel you place one roll in my hand, silently requesting me to hold it, as you take the other and start wrapping the fabric around my leg, starting at my hip and working your way down, your hands caressing my legs as you move to my foot. I feel you rub the roll against my instep, and I involuntarily pull my leg back a bit. You rarely resist tickling my feet, chuckling since you know that I cannot stop from moving when you do, no matter how hard I try. You cross the ribbon over itself as you move back up my leg, caressing my thigh as you move, and briefly running your hand over my cunt, a solitary finger slipping between the folds of flesh to quickly tease my clit.

Once done, you place the roll in my hand, before repeating the process with my other leg, stroking, caressing, tickling. Occasionally, I feel you tug at the ribbon, as if making sure the positioning was perfect. Eventually, both rolls of the ribbon are in my hands, and I feel you shift on the bed. I feel your fingers move along the top of my feet, lightly across skin and fabric up the length of my legs, your tongue following one leg and then the other. Softly, you touch my inner thighs. Your touch, constant and warm, increased my arousal. Just having you near was enough to arouse me; having you this close was pure torture.

Moving slowly, you knelt over me, your knees on either side of my thighs. You took the rolls of ribbon from my hands, and asked me to lift myself up a bit. Crossing the ribbon behind me, you brought the rolls over my shoulders, before wrapping my arms as you did my legs, licking and sucking my fingers as you worked, spending a few minutes to caress my palms with your tongue. Reaching my shoulders, you rubbed the rolls over my nipples again, before taking the rolls to my cunt. You move carefully, making sure the ribbon is positioned neatly over my lips, holding them apart slightly. You slide one hand again beneath my ass, lifting me up so you could position the ribbon between my ass cheeks.

By now, you had used a lot of the ribbon to decorate my body, but there was enough of the rolls left to press into my back as I laid on them. Working by touch, you slipped the rolls beneath the ribbon already wrapping my body, before again wrapping it around my waist. Your fingertips tickle lightly, and I gently squirm, making you chuckle. You have told me on a number of occasions how you like to tickle, and watch me to try get away from your fingers. It was one time, you said, that you didn’t mind me disobeying you. But now, the wrapping of ribbon constricted my movements slightly, the fabric tugging in unfamiliar ways.

Your hands
move across my stomach, moving. I can hear the fabric scrape against itself, and
I can guess that you’re tying a knot, and I can feel the slight pressure against me. I can hear the ribbon more, and can feel it tug as you work. Eventually, your weight shifts on the bed, and you get off, leaving me there, bound.

“Well, my slave. Don’t you look pretty all trussed up.” I can hear you smiling as you speak. “It’s a pity you can’t see it.”

Again, I feel your hands on my body, adjusting the ribbon slightly here and there. You trail your fingers across my nipples, teasing; stroking along my body to my wet cunt. I can feel your hands stroking the wet ribbon at my cunt.

“Don’t move.” With one final caress to my hot, wet and wanting cunt, I hear you leave the room.