Familiar Black Rope

They are on a weekend away in the English midlands. Its pouring with rain. They arrive at the country house after dark and, as the lights from their car cast beams across the imposing entrance, a light goes on above the door. She looks through the rain-specked window at the house; three storeys tall in the Victorian style, its brick walls glistening in the wet night.

The door opens and she sees a young man standing in the entrance holding an umbrella. Her husband leans past her to put his glasses in the glovebox and touches her cheek, “Ready?” 
 She nods in reply, her smile etched in the darkness. 
 The man runs over to the car huddled under the umbrella and opens her door. “This way please,” he says and makes room for her to climb out of the car and under the umbrella. 
 They walk back to the small roofed area by the front door when he says, “Wait here please,” before heading back out into the rain to collect her husband and their bags. 
 When they return he gestures that they should enter before him and he follows.

The entrance hall of the house is voluminous and silent. The young man folds the umbrella and deposits it into a holder by the door before presenting his hand, “Mr and Mrs Stratton; welcome to Houghton Manor, my name is Rhys.” 
 She takes his hand and smiles, “Hello.”
 “May I show you to your room?” he suggests.
 “Thank you,” her husband replies as Rhys turns to lead them up the staircase to their right.
 They walk down a wood-panelled passageway when Rhys says, “You’re the first guests of the weekend to arrive. Our other guests are all only arriving in the morning so you’ll have the run of the place tonight.” 
 They stop in front of an oak door, he opens it and again gestures for them to enter ahead of him.

As she walks into the sumptuously appointed room lit in the glow of dimmed lights she notices the familiar lengths of black cotton rope laid out on the bed. She stops to look at the ropes and then hears Rhys say, “I’ll be back with your luggage,” before closing the door on his way out. She turns to her husband.
 “You can go ahead and get undressed,” he says.
 All she can do is to nod and smile.
 She takes off her shoes and places them neatly by the door to the bathroom, gets undressed and folds her blouse, skirt and underwear before laying them down on an armchair standing in the corner. Her husband walks up to her, puts his hand in the small of her back and guides her back to the bed where he positions her next to it and facing the door. Her skin, slightly chilled from the rain and surprised by the ropes raises up in goosebumps. Her husband is standing behind her and says, “I’ll be back,” before turning and walking to the bathroom. She hears the bathroom door close and is left standing naked and motionless facing the oak door. She knows to not move from her spot.

After a minute of listening to the shower running in the bathroom she hears a knock on the door and her pulse suddenly races as her brain releases a jolt of adrenaline. 
 The door opens and Rhys walks in holding their luggage. He looks at her and smiles before placing the suitcases next to the fireplace and turning to close the door again. And then they find themselves together in silence, the young man standing by the closed door and she facing him; her breasts slowly rising an falling with each breath, hiding the fact that blood is now rushing through her veins. They both remain motionless.

Then she hears the bathroom door open and bare feet pad up to her from behind. Her husband stops behind her and gently holds her right shoulder with one hand and her left arm with the other as if to present her to Rhys.
 “Are you warm enough?” he asks and she nods without turning her head towards him. Her focus is on restraining her breath and on not trembling.
 “Good, let’s start over here,” he says and guides her to a grey chaise lounge where he turns her around and guides her to sit down on it. Behind him Rhys walks over to the bed, collects together the two lengths of rope and then comes and stands beside her husband. His face is calm and open.

Her husband crouches down in front of her. “This way,” he says as he gently takes her hips and turns her lengthwise onto the chaise lounge, its firm velvet fabric brushes against her thighs. He guides her to lie down on her back and then pulls her by her thighs so that her buttocks are resting on the very edge of the seat. She finds herself staring into Rhys’s smiling but silent eyes as he hands a length of rope to her husband. The first length will be used to tie her legs, the second to tie her hands.

Her husband raises her legs up so that her calves are pressed up against the back of her thighs and then opens her legs so that her pussy is fully exposed to Rhys who is now standing facing her at the end of the chaise lounge. Her husband uses the rope to firmly tie her calves to her thighs so that she cannot lower them and then ties each thigh to a leg of the chaise lounge so that she is restrained from the waist down. There is nothing for her to do but to focus on keeping her breath under control as she feels the blood gathering in her vulva. Then her husband puts her wrists above her head, ties them together and then stretches her arms up and onto the back of the chaise lounge so that he can tie them down as well. Now she is completely immobile except for her head which she can turn so as to look into her husband or Rhys’s eyes. Her husband crouches down next to her and tenderly brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes before kissing her forehead, “From now until we are done I expect you to treat both Rhys and I with deference. We will take care of you as long as you remember that this is no longer about what you want.” 
 She nods and then sees Rhys walk up to her and reach out to brush his fingers against the skin of her right knee. As soon as the tips of his fingers touch her she gasps. He runs his hand down her leg and then drops down between her splayed legs. She feels his stubble brush against her thighs before his tongue finds her clitoris.
 There is no point in straining against the ropes and she knows to remain silent for now. Rhys explores her body patiently while her husband perches on the chaise lounge next to her to make sure that the ropes are secure and that she complies.


An hour later she finds herself lying face down on the rumpled bed. She can still find traces of Rhys’s semen on her lips. The welts on her buttocks from the riding crop that now lies motionless on the bed beside her have started subsiding. She watches Rhys get dressed and feels the gentle caress of her husband’s hand on her arm.


The next morning she is seated in the breakfast room where Rhys brings her a plate of scrambled egg with toast and roasted baby tomatoes. “Did you sleep well?” he asks. 
 “Yes, thank you. I did. Thank you.”
 “I’m glad that you got to enjoy the house before more guests arrived. There’s sure to be a bit of a hubbub this morning.”

And with that he turns and walks back towards the kitchen.

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