Be careful what you wish for. Another of her mother’s
old sayings drifted through her head. Andrew seemed to have
a knack for picking just the things that somehow touched a nerve.
Still there was no place she’d rather be.
Thank heavens he had decided to trust her again and more importantly
himself. Something had been opened in Ashley, released somehow,
and she didn’t ever want to go back to the “old
Ashley”.
It wasn’t just that she was more sexual, more sensual
and just plain horny all the time! That was strange enough in
itself, given that she had decided long ago that all men were
insensitive pigs and she herself was sexually frigid except
in the privacy of her own bedroom late at night. Even then,
when she had masturbated alone it wasn’t particularly
erotic but really more of a sleep aid.
Even more than the constant sexual tension she felt now was
the overlay of submissive feeling and desire. When Andrew walked
into the room, she had to control herself not to immediately
kneel down and touch her head to the floor. She knew this made
him uncomfortable. He was still grappling with his own issues
and also with his fears about her past.
Happily, he wasn’t so constrained by his fears to keep
from domming her several times a week. Tonight however, she
was afraid he had bitten off more than she could chew! She’d
enjoyed the couple of times he’d tied her up, tying her
hands over her head and securing them to the bed posts. It was
thrilling to be fucked while held down like that and she’d
come hard and long, screaming her pleasure.
Tonight was different. Though she was slowly coming to accept
her body as beautiful, even down there, at this precise moment
she longed to close her legs.
For Andrew had remembered her remarks about the scene in Story
of O, when O was tied on a dais and forced to remain so for
hours after the other slave girls had whipped her inner thighs.
For O the humiliation had been in the exposure of her sex. She
was obviously a masochist, as Ashley realized herself to be,
but she shared the same apparent aversion to others looking
at her down there.
Intellectually she understood Andrew was “pushing her
envelope” as he called it—taking her just a little
farther than she thought she could go.
If she were honest, even though she felt nervous right now,
she was also deeply aroused. Andrew had built his own little
dais for her, using a desk and pulleys he’d installed
in the ceiling. Chains hung from the pulleys with cuffs to hold
her prisoner.
She was secured by her ankles, her body lying exposed on the
desk, legs spread wide to reveal her shaved pussy. Andrew had
thoughtfully padded the desk with soft quilts before ordering
his slave girl to lie down. He had tied rope around her chest
just above and below her breasts, knotting it under the desk.
Her wrists, wrapped in soft leather cuffs, were clipped to the
silver loop on her collar. Her legs were extended high and she
felt vulnerable. She fancied she could even feel a breeze against
her labia.
She shivered a little and tried to move, testing the cuffs on
her ankles. She couldn’t close her legs—she couldn’t
even shift her body a little to get more comfortable. And where
was Andrew?
He had tied her, and then walked out of the room after kissing
her lightly on the forehead. As she lay alone, Ashley considered
calling out to him. Andrew, I’m scared. Come back! Untie
me. She practiced the words in her head but she didn’t
speak them aloud.
She realized they weren’t entirely true. She was scared,
yes, but she also wanted this.
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