Rope

I stand still as Z wraps the coiled white rope around my body, across my arms and between my breasts. I stand obediently as he wraps white cord around each breast, pulling the coils tight as he makes a yoke of rope for my throat, a halter that holds my breasts up, apart, bound. I watch in the mirror as he threads the rope, as he ties the intricate knots, as I transform into a naked, bound slut he could let anyone use if he wished.
Soon, I am covered in rope and lying on the bed, posed obligingly , complacent and trusting --and totally at home.
The rope turns me on, it excites me, and I surrender myself to Z and his passions, a bound vessel to be treasured--and used.