Sun Showers, Part 2 of 2, By RopeBinder (BDSM, Mf)
Sun Showers, Parts V-VIII


Part V..
They lay on her bed for nearly an hour.  He stroked her as she slept, near
exhaustion.  He quietly slipped from the bed and gathered the tools he had
been using and put them back into their respective bags.  Leaving three
lengths of rope, he went to her sleeping form and rolled her onto her belly.
Tying each ankle, with separate pieces of rope, he secured the other ends to
the bottom legs of the bed.  Coaxing her off her belly to a kneeling position,
he took the third length of rope and tied her wrists behind her back.  She
began to regain consciousness and moaned in resistance.  Spreading her knees
as far as he could, he pulled the rope binding her wrists, from behind her
back, through her legs, pulling her bound wrists down towards her buttocks.
Her shoulders slumped, as her arms were pulled downward.  He stood in front of
her with both hands pulling the rope connected to her wrists farther and
farther though her legs.  Her torso responded to the strain of her arms being
pulled down through the back of her open thighs by leaning backward onto the
bed.  He aided her motion by raising one foot and pressing it into her chest,
effectively pressing her back down on top of her arms and the white comforter.
She was now on her back laying on top of her bent knees, her legs forced open,
completely exposed, her hands underneath her, her body drawn tight, totally
bound, submission complete.

He ran his fingertips over her bruised torso, sides, ribcage, waist, belly,
open cunt, ears, throat, breasts and tender, tortured nipples.  She began to
respond by taking deep measured breaths.  He opened a drawer beside her bed
and found a black scarf.  Under the scarf he found a long, thin, battery
operated clitoral vibrator.  He took both from the drawer.  He tied the scarf
around her head and made a thin tight gag.  Next he jammed a small wooden
spool of sewing thread, he'd found on top of the nightstand, into her mouth,
propping it open.  Turning on the small vibrator, he used it on all the
erogenous spots of her exposed body.  Even her tiny, boyish, tortured nipples
responded as they stiffened so much their tips turned milky white.  He bent
and flicked each nipple tenderly with his tongue.  Moving upwards he gently
kissed her throat.  Working downward, he lingered just under her navel and
finally stuck his tongue to the bottom of her belly button.  The tiny crater
was stretched to an oval.  With all the abuse she had taken that day, his
tongue still tickled her.  His tongue flicked and licked at her belly button,
and she jerked and what sounded like a distorted giggle came out of her
gagged, but propped open, mouth.  His attention returned to the clitoral
stimulator, and he expertly applied it to her, once again, moistening cunt.
Each breath she took exhaled in a louder and louder moan thanks to the wooden
spool in her mouth.  Bound as she was, he could see her hips rising and
grinding slightly, trying to hasten her next orgasm, giving him plenty of
clues as to when she would explode.  He abruptly stopped all stimulation
leaving her growling in frustration.

He left the bed, momentarily, and got something out of one of the cloth bags.
When he returned to the bed, he massaged her belly button with both hands.
Using his two middle fingers, he pushed the little hole of her navel open and
closed and carefully inspected it from all angles.  Finally, with his thumb
and forefinger, he stretched open the cavity of the girl's navel as wide as he
could.  The tender skin at the bottom of her navel rose, as the skin grew
taut.  With surgical precision, he attached a steel needle-nosed hemostat to
the knotted nerve endings of her belly.  As the pincers closed, the pain went
through her belly to her spine.  The pain seemed to come from everywhere.  She
was barely aware that the deafening sound in her ears was her own scream.  He
carefully moved the scissors end of the hemostat back and forth, round and
round like a joystick directing the total pain in her body like he was playing
a diabolical computer game.  With his other hand, he went back to work with
the clitoral stimulator.  He worked both hands carefully until he could hear
the effects of each in her wails, screams and moans.  He was playing her now.
He had absolute control over her, physically, mentally and sexually.  How long
could he make her last?  How long could he listen to her scream?  How long
would he?


Part VI...By RopeBinder

Tired of amusing himself with her bellybutton, he unclasped the hemostat and
tossed it to the floor.  She was too far gone to notice its absence.  Her
chest heaved up and down as if each breath were her last.  She gyrated her
sweaty torso back and forth, blindly searching for the buzzing vibrator.  She
wanted to cum.  She needed to cum.  Her thoughts were too blurred to
comprehend her helplessness at that moment.

His voice brought her a moment of reality.  With a steady tone, he asked,
"Angie, would you like to cum now?"  She shook her head vigorously, gurgling
though the makeshift gag.  He continued, "You realize, there will be a cost."
It was not a question.  It was a confirmation of their agreement, he dominant,
she submissive.  She hesitated.  A tear swept along the corner of her eye, and
she shook her head again.

He tossed the vibrator to the floor, not bothering to extinguish the buzzing,
and placed his head between her bound, spread and contorted legs.  He started
slowly licking only the outsides of her silky lips.  Her matted, blonde pubic
hair framed her slick opening with an aroma of sex that filled the room.  He
licked carefully, first outside, then inside, with unpredictable stokes.  Long
curls of his tongue contrasted short jabs.  Intermittently, he grabbed her
engorged clit between his lips and flicked it gently with his tongue.  She
pressed forward, despite her discomfort.  Her bent legs seared with a tired
ache, but she didn't care.  She was closing in on an explosive orgasm.  She
couldn't tell if her heartbeat had stopped or was racing.  Her panting drowned
out all other sound.  All she could feel was his tongue on her clit.  She was
dizzy, and he was drowning.  Then he stopped.

She moaned as loud and she had all day.  This was torture.  He had agreed it
was time for her to cum!  "This won't do," he muttered.  "Your hair is in the
way," he continued, pulling several wet blond curls from his tongue, then
several from her pussy merely to surprise her.  "Hold on," he said and hopped
off the bed, staggering to the bathroom.  He returned with scissors, a razor,
shaving cream, a towel and a large bowl filled with hot water.  Amidst her
protests, he tugged at her curls, snipping them at the base.  Then, he
smothered her pubic crew cut with shaving cream.  She craved any sort of
contact between her legs and thrust her lips at his fingers.  "I'd be careful,
if I were you, Angie.  I've only done this once and I'm not that confident
with a razor in my hand."  He shaved her, developing a rhythm dipping the
razor into the hot water and gliding it along her cunt.  When he was satisfied
with her smoothness, he relathered her and did it again.  He couldn't be sure,
but he thought she was trying to get herself off on the razor...very
strange…very erotic.  Finally, he cleaned her with a warm, wet towel.  She
sparkled.

He began again.  Licking gently at the edges of her protective hood, then
tracing the edges of her swollen pink and white lips, occasionally dipping the
tip of his tongue inside her.  Her juices flowed more freely without her hair
getting in the way.  He knew it was probably an illusion.  Her bareness hid
nothing.  Her stubble livened his tongue.  The freedom with which he could
attack her nakedness invigorated his weary senses.  He sucked on her lips and
lapped up her juices.  There was no hurry.  She pressed her ass up and down
and groaned from the back of her throat.  He bit at her lips and clit, tugging
and releasing them.  Her body stiffened.  He grabbed her clit with his lips
and worked over the nerve endings.  She stiffened again.  Her groans became
higher pitched.  He sucked gently, but continuously, on her clit and hood,
gathering the added rush of fluid spilling from her opening.  She was cumming,
but he didn't release her until she slumped on the bed.  She could now feel
the ache in her arms and legs, but she basked in her glorious state.


Part VII...By RopeBinder

"Shall we try that again?"  She had momentarily forgotten he was there.
Perhaps she had dozed off for a second.  She froze, remember his earlier
words..."There will be a cost."  She said nothing.  He stooped over his
clothing, heaped in a pile on the floor, and retrieved his belt.  He thought
about how lucky he was to have found this belt.  Its leather wove diagonally
from edge to center along its entire length.  The body was one and a quarter
inches wide and tapered to three-quarters of an inch at the tongue.  It was a
sturdy quarter inch thick down the middle.  He knew he would never find a
better whip.

"I'd like to see you climax again, but this time...only the whip."  She
groaned.  Was it possible to cum from whipping?  Neither knew.  Her body was a
collection of slick, shiny flesh, red and purple bruises and red welts.  It
was attractive now, but probably wouldn't be tomorrow.  He wanted to leave her
with something more decorative.  He began striping her breasts, crisscrossing
the marks as one would decorate a piecrust.  Each lash left a stinging trail
of redness.  He worked his way down her belly and sides.  She squirmed left,
right, up and down, but there was no escape.  The belt rained on her already
tender flesh.  He spent extra time on her bellybutton, then he bypassed her
pussy and marked the front of her thighs with stripes an inch apart.  She was
crying again.  "Why did she like this?  Why does the pain turn her on?" he
thought.  "Were these questions she could answer?  Maybe...maybe not..."

Satisfied that he'd covered her front side, he shortened the belt, dangling
the last eight inches from his fingertips.  He concentrated on her inner
thighs.  She jumped with each blow, as he whipped her most sensitive flesh.
Despite her cries, her juices flowed, pooling on the mattress beneath her.  By
the time he reached her lips, she was rising to meet each blow.  He sat on her
chest, whipping her clit, pussy lips and tiny pink asshole.  He found himself
playing a game to see if he could make the tip of the belt briefly disappear
between her lips.  She shivered below him.  She was cumming again.
Unbelievable to both of them, she was cumming.  He continued to shower her
with leather, and, eventually, she came again.


Part VIII...By RopeBinder

He'd witnessed a lot of things, but never climax by whipping.  The thought
excited him so much that his cock bobbed painfully, swollen against the heat
of the bedroom.  He threw his belt to the floor and hastily untied her.  She
remained still.  She hadn't the strength to straighten her cramped legs or
pull her arms out from under her.  He did it for her and removed her gag.

He lay on top of her for a moment, staring at her face.  She had nothing left.
Her eyes were closed.  Her body was limp.  He wrapped his arms around her
shoulders, lifted himself to his elbows, and quietly slid inside her.  He
fucked her slowly and steadily, caressing her hair and cheeks with tired
hands.  She was unresponsive.  He thought of Sleeping Beauty and stretched his
neck to kiss her throat.  He gently sucked her neck, then her chin and then
her lips.  She creased her eyes, blinded by the daylight sneaking through the
window blinds.  She opened them fully and returned his gaze.  Their eyes never
left each other's as he slid in and out of her.  Her wetness clung to him, and
he thrust harder and deeper, trying to pierce her.  When he came inside her,
it was more relief than climax.  They'd been through so much in one day.  He
gasped as he came and collapsed onto her chest and stomach, out of breath,
heart racing.

He rolled onto his side and clutched her to him.  They held each other for a
long time, fading in and out, half asleep, half awake.  Finally, he crawled
from her bed, tucked her in and went to the kitchen.  Quietly fumbling through
her cabinets, he found some pots, pans, noodles, olive oil, garlic, clams and
Italian bread.  He cracked the seal on a bottle of Chianti and went to work on
a large batch of linguini and clams.  She was tired and would sleep for a
while, but when she woke, she would be famished.  She would need him to take
care of her.

He basked in the aroma of the garlic, clams and warm bread and thought about
how lucky he was to have found her.