SUBTLE
by
copyright 2011, Andrea Dale
Published by Soul’s Road Press
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SUBTLE
by
Katrina and I have never been into hard-core bondage. The idea of thick straps of leather everywhere, of crosses and horses and all-out full-on immobility just doesn’t do it for us.
No, we’re much more subtle than that. Believe me, the results are just as, if not more, devastating.
It started one night when we were playing with nipple clamps. We were using light, teasing ones, because let’s face it, your hands can’t be everywhere, and what’s wrong with a little help?
Katrina got a deliciously evil look on her face. At that point, I hadn’t quite learned just what that look meant. I shivered nonetheless; I instinctively knew that it was a good thing.
We were in the front hall next to the stairs. We’d been romping in the living room and had decided to head for the bedroom.
We never made it.
Katrina got that wicked gleam in her eyes. She slid one of the padded tweezer clips off my pouting nipple, threaded the attached chain through a railing on the banister, and reattached the clamp.
“Stay there,” she said, and bounded up the stairs.
There was no danger, obviously. My hands and feet were free. I could have popped off one of the clips and gone on my merry way.
But I didn’t. I don’t think I could have. Even though logically I knew there was nothing physical truly holding me there, mentally it was clear: I was stuck. She’d told me to stay. Stay I would.
The realization made me squirm. My nipples swelled, throbbing in the clips. As I shifted, I could tell my pussy lips were slick, pouting. How long would she leave me like this?