March 11, 2010

Rope Story

Posted in stories tagged at 12:50 am by littlesubmissions

It was the black leather gloves that gave her away. His body stiffened as he saw them, quickly hitting save on the PC and trying to watch her from the corner of his eye. He could feel her standing behind him, daring him to move or say something. Soft panting breaths and a ghost reflection in the monitor.

A length of rope, dirty nylon without any stretch left pulled tight and horizontal moved slowly down, a few inches in front of his face. Trembling strands woven together and pulled tight, sliding down until they got to his neck then back, into his throat, wrapping around his neck, pulled against his skin until his breath pushed the meat of his neck hard against it.

Weight shifted behind him, a fist wrapped around the rope and turned into a knot in the back of his neck, twisting until he couldn’t breathe.

A paper bag dropped in his lap crinkled as he quickly unfolded it, and the hand relaxed enough for him to suck in one breath of air. The hand crushed down hard then, choking him, the rope burning into his skin. As he sank down and his arms came up, the rope began to loosen, the grip giving him more air as he pulled the bag further towards his head, then letting the rope go slack as he lowered the bag over his head.

He felt the rope sawing lazy friction against his skin as he breathed hard, moist air bouncing off the inside of the bag and hitting his skin.

The rope tugged and tightened, then loosened as he stood up and followed it, marched through the room until his knees hit the bed and he fell forward. The rope tightened and his cheek smashed flat against the paper, the bed beneath him as a gentle tug on his pants seeped into his consciousness.

Fingers fumbled with his belt, pulling it open and shoving his pants down. Guttural croaks as the hand just shoved down against him, cutting off his air until he shoved down his underpants, feeling them hit his knees then slide down his sweating, clammy skin.

Cool air poured into the bag as his lungs filled and emptied, sucking in oxygen as fast he could.

Feet behind him, an eager shifting of her weight that didn’t bother with coercion, just kicked his legs apart with hard boots until he stepped out of his pants and spread under her, shoving his legs wider until the muscles in his thighs trembled and burned.

Hard, slimy plastic sliding up and down his ass, the rope tightening as he started, then relaxing as he sand back down. The tip stopping at his asshole, catching slightly, pausing.

The rope tightening until he started to shift backwards, whimpers strangled deep inside him, impaling himself.

Sliding forward, the rope tightening until he couldn’t stand it any more, and pushed himself back, fucking himself into her.

Over and over, each breath a rape.

Or was it each a rape a breath?

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


  1. Mike said,

    Oh, wow. Hot, wet, jucy…..great foggy dreams…love it.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thanks 🙂

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