Red Hair, White Rope
My volunteer was an unusually pretty woman, wearing a fluttery summer dress. She came hopping over the chairs, in her eagerness to get up on the stage, where I stood with hanks of braided nylon rope dangling from my hands. I reached down for her hands, and hauled her up– and she came up fast, barrelling right into me so that I had to catch her to keep my balance. That was a sleek little body I held in my arms, her quick-heaving chest warm against my skin. I pulled back to a more professional distance and she smiled up at me with cinnamon eyes. Her name was Jessamine, and her boyfriend was back there in the seats, his arms folded over his chest. She wiggled her fingers at him. I made a nice face in his general direction and led his girlfriend to the center of the stage.
“I cut most of my ropes into two, three, and five-yard lengths, and I keep a ten-yard hank for anything specific.” I said to the audience, and my hand went running over the slightly chafing texture of her chiffon dress. “Keep a lighter in your kit, and melt the ends of each rope the second you cut it, unless you want lots of nylon floggers.” A chuckle from the audience. I grabbed a handful of the fabric at the small of her back, twisting it till the dress made a tight belt at her waist. Tugging it made her step back, against my side. That easy. Her sleek red cap of hair, barely touched with gold highlights, swung just a little with her movement. “Take off your bracelets,” I told her. Jess tugged the bright bangles, and handed them to me. I needed to let go of her dress, but my hand wouldn’t obey me. I told myself she wasn’t going anywhere. I grabbed them with the hand that held the rope, and I shoved them into my jeans pocket. “It’s a good idea,” I said into the mic, “to mark the center of each length of rope. And you can color code for length. I know this piece is five yards long, because I poked it with a blue marker.” I shook it, and the coil obediently unfolded for me. To double it and knot a loop at the center meant I had to let go of the girl for a moment.
“I’m going to make a little body harness first,” I told the audience. Centering the loop on her belly, I threw the ends one over each shoulder. I noted where her waist was, and made an overhand with both ends there, parted them, and sent one to each side of her waist. Jess turned to face me, so that I could hitch the ends into the front loop. She was a little thing, and my hanks would go further on her, I noted. The ends made a ‘V’ to her waist like a pinafore, crumpling the little blue dress under them. I ran the ropes up, hitched them back on themselves just under her breasts, ran them around her chest, and there was enough length to do it again, under her armpits. I adjusted the three wrappings for fit and tightened the knots down.
“You have handles,” I told her, and the audience, and demonstrated the way I could hold her firmly by those wrapped areas. One hand at her belt, and one between her shoulderblades, and I tipped her sideways, completely off-balance. Her arms flew out at the sudden movement, and I got ready to dodge some windmilling, but it didn’t happen. Jess relaxed almost instantly, and her arms returned to her sides. Oh, fuck. Beautifully trained, and I snuck a glance at the guy watching impassively from the fourth row.
“Don’t trust me?” I grinned for the audience’s sake, not hers, as I stood her back up once more. I nudged one arm, in illustration, making it move up and out before I let it down again. The girl trusted me. She was absolutely pliant in my hands. She was not mine. Her Master sat there, and if I fucked up, he’d be there to assert his ownership and take her back.
I knotted sleeves, wrapped at her armpits, elbows, wrists. Jess made a noise, a humming sound.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Just fine,” she said brightly. “This feels really good!”
“Glad to hear it,” I managed to say, and knelt in front of her to begin the lower half. Two loose loops around one thigh, which I then hitched to the side of her waist belt. The dress’s insubstantial skirt rucked up and pouffed out like a child’s sunsuit, and my heart stuttered as it revealed her un-clothed pussy, rosy, and furred in pale brown, to my eyes– and my nose. That bastard was sitting there… Stay professional, dammit, I told myself.
I tugged her dress between her thighs to render her acceptable to the general public, and she giggled. Smirking, I brought my rope down and gave her a wrap at the thigh, one over her knee, and one at her ankle. Then I did her right leg, and showed our audience the flexible cage that she wore. Her skin looked tanned and so very silky under the white rope. Moving quickly, I boxed off her arms behind her back. The ropes around her upper arms pulled in further than I expected. The twin wrappings over her forearms were beautifully symmetrical, I was pleased to see– good thing, with an audience and all. Her hands rested palms out, relaxed, elegant, with oval nails and tapered fingers. No wedding ring, but a cladagh adorned the right hand. I helped her to sit on the lecture podium, wrapped her legs together at the knees and ankles, and ta-dah. Our time together was up. My model was neatly secured, my audience was happy, my instincts were screaming at me. I stepped forward, put my hands to her thighs one last time, and hoisted her over my shoulder, treating the audience to the view of her pinioned arms, but I, facing away, could look at her chiffon-veiled ass and pussy, inhale her scent in one deep draught. And I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing my cheek against her shining skin, just a little. But that was all.
I set her on her feet once more, and knelt to un-hobble her legs. “Can I keep this stuff on for a while?” Jess asked me.
“Of course,” I replied, and released her arms. She took great delight in flexing her limbs, feeling the ways that the ropes shifted and strained with her movements.
“Thanks!” she said and flashed me one more brilliant smile as she stepped off the stage towards her Master. I collected my gear and went into the wings. I needed a moment of solitude, but Jess’s brown eyes refused to leave me alone.
