Tags:
Erótica,
BDSM,
bondage,
Erotic,
mf,
pony play,
kink,
ds,
Role playing,
kink erotica,
tied,
blindfolded
BOUND IN LOVE
Yvette leaned back against the plush leather seat and
sighed deeply. "I don't know what to do, Doctor. I know he loves
me, and I trust him. I just feel kind of nervous about him tying me
up. How sad is that? I’ve been married almost four years to Brett,
but sometimes I still have flashbacks and nightmares. Yet, I admit,
the idea of being helpless, his to do with as he wills,” Yvette’s
voice trailed off as she struggled to put to words the feelings
that were welling up.
Ever since Brett’s latest tour started, each time he
got leave, things had slowly been evolving in the bedroom. He had
completely stopped pulling her down on top of him during sex;
instead he was the one in control. His grip on her hips was just a
little tighter, his touch a little rougher.
From across the room, her therapist met her gaze with
steady gray eyes. "Does it turn you on, thinking about it? Him
binding your hands, and being free to touch you however he
wants?"
Yvette gave a little jerky nod. She had to struggle
to resist the urge to squirm in her seat. Just the very thought of
Brett dominating her was enough to start her juices flowing in
preparation for his cock.
"Does he know you were raped?"
Her voice a soft whisper, Yvette answered, "No. It's
never come up. I don't know if I can tell him."
"What you're feeling is natural—the fear and the
excitement. After the trauma of your rape, it's normal for you to
feel hesitant with trying things that take away your control. But
you and I both know that you would be doing yourself a disadvantage
if you deny yourself something you find exciting, especially with
someone you trust."
"I know." Hearing the hesitancy in her own voice only
hardened Yvette's wavering resolve.
"How do I—" She paused, licking her suddenly dry
lips, trying to frame the question in her mind. "How do I let him
know to go slow without telling him what happened to me?"
"Would telling him be so bad?"
Yvette gave a shaky nod. She needed her therapist to
understand. "When he looks at me, he sees someone who's got it
together. He sees me as I was before the rape. And for the most
part I do too. But some things still make me flinch, my stomach
gets all tied up in knots, and I hate that my rapist still has that
power. I am not a victim. But if I tell him—"
She felt the sting as tears formed in her eyes.
Blinking rapidly to keep them from falling, she forced herself to
rush on. "If I tell him, he'll treat me different, like a bird with
a broken wing. I'm afraid he'll smother me, keeping me from having
the independence I've struggled to regain. I know he won't do it on
purpose; it'll be out of love." She took a breath to calm her
jagged nerves, "I can't tell him that while he was stationed
overseas, fighting to keep me and this country safe, someone
attacked me."
Looking into those gray eyes, Yvette felt a soothing
energy flow over her. That's what she liked about this therapist,
her third since the attack. She listened, didn't push or judge, and
she had the deepest gaze full of understanding. It allowed Yvette
the time to heal at her own pace.
"Since he returned, has sex been as it was before the
rape?"
"Sort of. He's only been back twice for a week's
leave. Things started changing in the bedroom about two years ago,
almost a year before the rape. He started getting a little more
intense. He touches me so gently, like he always has, yet now it’s
a little rougher. His hands hold me tighter. He's strong, and he
knows it, so he’s still careful with me. Plus, with him being over
a foot taller than me, and let's face it, I'm a 110-pound weakling,
he's always so aware of his strength."
Yvette curled her legs up and rested her chin on her
knees. "It makes me shiver just thinking about it, the ways things
had been changing. Looking at him across the table at dinner,
knowing the leashed animal magnetism, and the beast of lust that
lurks within him is enough to get me hot. Doctor, it's what
David Sherman & Dan Cragg
Frances and Richard Lockridge