I jerked a handfull of hair backward. Her eyes opened wide then rolled back in her head as I took the picture.
“Look at me,” I ordered her softly. She opened her eyes and I took another picture.
“Good girl.”
This was definitely not the way I’d planned for the shoot to go. In fact, I really had no plan for the shoot. We’d only agreed to do it at all the day before. We were shopping at the local fetish/porn store — me for a flogger and wartenberg wheel, she for lingere and shoes for her SO’s birthday.
“If I were shooting you, I’d have you wear those,” I remarked, pointed to a pair of heels on display. They were just this side of ballet toes, which turn me on in spite of myself.
“I’ve been thinking about us shooting,” she replied. “When are you free?”
So i made the trip out to her house the next day and we started shooting. She was apprehensive at first — unsure of how to pose and very self-concsious of her body…Not something I’m used to dealing with of late. The images turned out well enough, but I could tell she wasn’t into it. We moved to the bedroom to try another idea. I figured rope might help, as she was very into being bound.
I was struggling with a strappado tie (my ropework sucks) when I noticed her breaths coming heavier as the rope rubbed against her skin. I tightened the makeshift tie and she sighed out loud.
“Mmm,” she murmured. My curiosity piqued, I leaned around to she her face — the blissed out, subby expression inspired me. I pulled the ropes tight and she gasped.
“Ah, you like?” I asked rhetorically. She just signed and tilted her head forward, her shiny straight hair making an invitation I couldn’t pass up. I took a handful of it in my free hand and pulled it hard. She gasped again and I felt her knees buckle.
“Bed?” I whispered into her ear. She nodded and I guided her to the mattress and our play begain in earnest.
It was surprising and a bit daunting at first, the feeling of control, the power to give pleasure, the very idea someone would want to feel this at my hands. The hardest part was remembering to be more than just an observer/voyeur — this time I was actually the driving force of the scene. I pulled hard on the rope and marveled at the way her face opened up, her eyes flashing, mouth agape and breathing heaving and harsh.
As we carried on, I remembered her telling me how pretty she felt the last time a partner bound and flogged her. Looking into her face as waves of pleasure and pain spread across it, I was inspired again. Taking both the rope and her hair in one hand, I reached over to the night table and picked up the camera. I set the exposure and focus to automatic and took a photo. It took a few moments to find a balance between my topping hand and my shooting hand, but once I did, I relished this sudden new split in my personality.
I pulled. She twitched and gasped, eyes rolling back, as I took a picture. “Good girl,” I whispered. “You’re so pretty. Not just pretty — beautiful.“ Her brow knitted and her dark pink lips turned up in a rueful smile. I pulled suddenly and her face spread open in surprise and sensation.
“Aren’t you beautiful?” I demanded with another sharp tug. “Yes,” she said, her voiced strained.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I’m beautiful.”
“Good girl.”
I got a better grip on her hair and twisted her face towards me. “Look at me,” I said. “Look at me.” Her eyes opened and her cheeks flushed as I took another picture. I pulled again and her back arched.
“Are you going to come for me?” I asked. “Are you?” She said nothing with words, her eyes and breathing spoke for her.
“Come for me. Come for my camera.”
It came from deep inside her, shaking her body from the spine outward. Her eyes narrowed and her lips trembled with the halting, ragged breaths that announced her pleasure. I kept taking photos until she sank back into the mattress. Putting my camera down, I caressed her face as she opened her eyes.
“Good girl,” I said, smiling.
She started to smile back at me…and I pulled the ropes tight all over again.
