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She takes each one, and her eyes snap to the hemp when I hand it over.
“You like the hemp. I thought you might.” I smirk.
“I like the texture.” She smiles sweetly, but there’s heat in her eyes.
“It’s my favorite as well,” Bex says.
“Okay.” I take the ropes from Naomi and toss the nylon on the chair in the corner. “I’m going to tie you in a simple pair of cuffs. Don’t move. Don’t try to help. Just relax while I tie you. Understood?”
“Yes,” she replies, and I hold back the urge to call her a good girl.
Unbundling the length, I straighten it out and find the bight of the rope in its center.
“Hands out before you, make a fist.” Naomi complies as Bex moves behind her and unclasps her bra.
“I think we should remove this before we get too far, don’t you think?” Bex croons, slipping the bra off.
Bex lets the garment fall to the floor, and I marvel at the volume of Naomi’s breasts as they fall from its confines.
“Fists out before you,” I remind her as Bex takes the weight of Naomi’s breasts into her hands and starts to knead them.
Naomi responds immediately, and I smile at her eagerness.
Slowly, I place the rope across her wrists so the center sits between her fists before wrapping each end twice, so it will circle her whole wrists. I take my time with each movement, letting my fingers trail over her skin and causing her to shiver under my touch and the texture of the rope.
When I’m done, the rope lies loose and flat, carefully aligned in their five lines atop her wrists with the tails falling to the floor.
“When you tie with rope, you layer things to distribute pressure evenly. That way, you’re not straining any muscles or nerves. You don’t want to put undue stress on any particular part of the body,” I explain, crossing the tails of the rope under her fists and bringing them up and around the opposite sides from where they started. “You want everything to lie flat. Things should only twist when you want them to.”
I exchange the ropes between my hands and drape them, and they fall perpendicular to the five rows that hold her wrists. Then, carefully, I wrap the end of each around, moving toward her wrists until there’s a small gap between the rope and her skin.
“There. They feel secure?” She nods, and I take hold of the center column of wrapped rope. “Good. If they’re too loose, there’s less”—I pull forward on the cuffs—“control.”
Her eyes widen as she’s forced to step into my space, and her breath quickens.
“Are you ready for my wife to make you scream, bunny?” I smirk, glancing over her shoulder at where Bex stands with a smile on her face.
“Yes,” Naomi whispers.
“Good. Listen to her well, and if you need to pause or stop, just say the word. Stop means stop,” I tell her.
“Get on the bed and lie down on your back,” Bex commands, and Naomi jumps to follow the instructions. “I hope you like overstimulation.”
Naomi gets on her back on the bed, and Bex has her spread her legs wide before crawling between them. I go up to sit by Naomi’s head and admire how her eyes flutter closed as Bex drags her nails up Naomi’s thighs.
Watching them together is intoxicating. Bex finishes undressing Naomi and, as promised, buries her face into her pussy.
I keep my eyes trained on Naomi’s face as Bex plays her body like an instrument. I drink down each furrow of her brow, parting of her lips, and arch of her neck that Bex draws out.
Though her wrists are bound, Naomi’s hands are free, and when she reaches for Bex’s head, I snatch her by the rope cuffs and force her hands above her head.
“No touching, bunny. Just feel,” I whisper into her ear. She whines in response.
I lose track of how many orgasms Bex wrings from Naomi’s body, but the begging she does is like music to my ears.
“Please no more,” she pants out. “Please.”
“One more,” Bex says, coming up for a breath of air. “Give me one more.”
