“I like this view,” she commented.
I was beginning to feel exposed, my butt in the air and legs spread wide. The position was incredibly vulnerable.
Selene retrieved rope from the chest and returned to the side of the bed, where I could see her. She reached out and took hold of my wrists, quickly and expertly tying them.
“This is a secure double column tie—a fundamental. It will not constrict your wrist. Move your hands for me, twist your wrists,” she explained after she had tied my wrists together.
I did as she asked, and she seemed pleased.
“So, it won’t get tighter if I pull?” I asked as she took the ends of the rope, dragging me forward with the rope until my arms were stretched out in front of me and reached down, retrieving a metal ring from below the mattress.
“No, it will not get tighter, pet. You will be free to pull and struggle as much as you desire,” she answered while tying the rope around the ring.
“How long has that been there? Did you put it there?” I asked incredulously. Before Selene, I would never have imagined that beds had secret attachments for tying people up.
She laughed. “I attached it myself, yes,” she replied.
“When?” I asked. How did she have the time?
“Earlier this morning,” she answered.
“This is the type of thing you get up to when we’re not together, and here I thought you were working, but no, you’re really putting together sneaky devices to help you tie me up.”
“What else is there to do with my free time?” she questioned in return.
“Anything else,” I deadpanned.
She laughed. “And then you would miss out on all the fun,” she said and patted my butt as she walked back to the end of the bed, and I wasn’t sure if it was playful or condescending; so much could be communicated through a butt pat.
Now with my arms outstretched, it was a struggle to lift my head from the bed, and I could only see a little over my arms and directly in front of me to the ‘o’-shaped ring.
“What fun did you have in mind?” I questioned and wriggled in my restraints. I had never been so fully tied down before, and I was a little anxious.
“I would like to introduce toys to our playtime,” she answered, and I heard items being moved about inside the chest.
“Toys?” I questioned and swallowed, giving my wrists a tug to test how much give there was in the rope. There was none.
“Vibrators, plugs, dildos, clamps, pinwheels, paddles, floggers, whips, crops—"
“Whips? Crops?” I interrupted and tried—and failed—to lift my head from the bed enough to see what she was doing.
Selene laughed. “Are you just now remembering that this is a lesson?” she asked.
I began to pull harder at the restraints.
“I don’t—Selene, whips!” I said, struggling to put forward a coherent thought, panic rising within me.
“Shh,” she soothed and ran her hand down my spine, softly, “there will be no instruments of pain tonight, I promise, pet,” she told me, and I sagged in relief.
“Oh,” I said, exhaling.
Selene’s hand continued from my back to buttocks. Her hand left me and returned with a sharp, stinging slap.
I cried out at the sting.
“Sorry, dear, I couldn’t resist. With you on display like this, it’s too tempting,” she apologised and rubbed where she had struck me.
“You said no instruments of pain,” I complained.
