Summers rope

It is the most beautiful summers day in that perfectly England kind of way and I am wearing a rope harness beneath by dress. There is lush greenness to the land, birds sing, the air is still, the warmth is perfect, not humid but gentle, clean, a warmth your body sinks happily into.

The course rope prickles against my skin. You have tied me before leaving the house. It was my idea, my request, so that I could take pictures. You took your time weaving the rope round my frame and secured it in place. You had me turn for you, slowly, as you pulled on various parts of your work before finally grasped at the knot across my back, using it to shove me away from you and then pull me close to your chest. Manoeuvring me like a rag doll before finally telling me to put my dress back on.

Once we get there you sit and watch patiently as I set up my tripod and take set about taking various images. You are silent but I can feel your eyes on me and I sense you are waiting but I don’t know exactly what for.

“Are you getting bored?”

“Not in the slightest” you respond

“I won’t be much longer” I say as I continue to work

“Take your time. I can wait”

“What are you waiting for?” I ask

“My turn”

“Your turn to take photos?” I ask looking at you with raised eye brows

“Nope. My turn to play…. with you.”

***

I did obviously go out wearing rope under my dress and take photos of myself however there was no watcher, but what if there was? Would I have found myself tied to the fence and beaten until I was raw and sore and then fucked from behind or maybe left there to twist and turn and try to get away whilst I worried that someone else would stumble across me here, vulnerable and at their mercy. Would he watch from afar? Would he take his turn? What happens to a plaything when she is tied up in the wilderness is for you to imagine and me to, maybe one day, find out.