She has on her new ankle boots, black leather, stiletto heels, stockings… she has them on, at home, in the house. His eyes are wide as he takes in the clingy black dress, the red lipstick. On the table, water crackers and various cheeses; brie, camembert, vintage cheddar, what looks like Edam. She is leaning back comfortably in the black leather swivel chair, legs crossed, a boot swinging hypnotically back and forth. She has a … Continue Reading
Bedtime story
We are on the phone. It is late. He is tired.
“Go and brush your teeth, get into bed, and I will read you a bedtime story…”
He thinks I am joking. I’m not. After a few minutes, he is still talking to me… I interrupt him.
“Teeth, bed! Go on!”
He laughs softly with surprise, “Yes Ma’am!” and scrambles off to do just that. I hear him shuffling and moving about.
Presently he returns, … Continue Reading
More pretty
Good morning
It is morning, he is still asleep, I am reading in the lounge room, the bedroom door in my peripheral vision. He is not allowed to come out of the room without permission.
I hear a sound and lift my gaze, the smirk already curling the corners of my mouth. The door opens slowly, his hand appears curled around the jamb, he peeks around the corner at me like a naughty child, blinking into the … Continue Reading
The pretty
The thing I am beginning to like about rope is that it can make a pretty boy even prettier. It whispers of acquiescence and helplessness in a way that hastily clipped together cuffs does not. It is concentration and patience and acceptance.
And plus… a boy’s tiny arse in boxer briefs accentuated by design… ?! Well, the appeal of that is just obvious…
… Continue ReadingRope play
He wears black boxer briefs, also a rope corselet in white, a rope pentagram harness in white and red, a collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, a ball gag, a blindfold, he is kneeling.
I clip his wrist cuffs to the rope at his belly, I examine the ties, the loops, the smoothness of the rope around him, reach between his legs to pull the ends forward, through his legs and up to attach it to … Continue Reading
Introduction…
I shall call him richie.
We have caught up three, maybe four times in the last few months. We eat, we drink, we talk. We have spent quite a few hours together, we get along well, but we are not a romantic relationship match.
He is a pretty boy, who thinks he is not. He doesn’t look in the mirror and see who he is, but who he is not.
He has no experience, … Continue Reading