He called to tell me he’d bought some silk rope so he could tie me up. No other reason.
No “hi, how are you?”
No “The weather is fabulous today, let’s fuck under a tree in the park after work.”
Nothing like that.
I picked up the phone and before i could utter even a sound he’d starting whispering debauched nothings in my ear.
“I want you secured and pliant. Submissive and aroused. My good girl. My slut.”
I shivered in delicious anticipation. Then he began to describe the rope.
How silky and smooth it felt to the touch. How long and luxuriant it was. What a wonderfully inviting and slutworthy red color it was.
How he envisioned using it on me. How he would first tie my wrists together, and then bend me into a horseshoe-shape as he bound my secured wrists to my ankles.
How he planned to slide the tail end of the cord inside me and then tease my lips with it. Trail it over my face and leave stardust trails of arousal across my cheeks.
How he would pause to slide the end over my tongue and allow me to lick my own abundant juices off it.
I listened in silence, frightened to open my mouth for fear of groaning aloud with suppressed desire. The descriptions he articulated formed images in my mind so precise that I could almost touch them. The desire these images awakened in me was almost feral, so immediate and tangible was my arousal.
In my sub rosa state, unwilling to betray the maelstrom behind my passive expression, I enjoyed the feeling of my cunt moistening.
I imagined how the smoothly shaven labia majora would glisten invitingly to him. Easily visible with my legs bent up and away from my torso. Wet and awash with feeling I sat there.
Speechless. Thrown and overblown with bliss.
It’s amazing how a phone call can change your whole day.
Elegant Smut 