I’m trying something new this week. There’s something started bumbling around in my brain and I’m going to see how well it looks once it comes out. For the first time ever, may I present a bit of erotic fiction:
Elizabeth had been practicing the knots for months. She wanted them to be just right, because she knew somehow that getting them wrong would make Phillip angry. He was terrible when he was angry, always yelling and throwing things but he never touched her, Oh, he’d come close enough. He would smack the wall next to her face, or kick at chair while she was sitting in it, but he never once struck her while he was angry. She could tell he wanted to, though. Phillip’s eyes always glowed when he was angry, like one of those weird possessed zombie people in the cheap horror movies that used to show late on Saturday nights when she was kid. Her parents never knew about those nights. They were always out somewhere. They told her it was parties, but momma always wore itty bitty dresses, even in the winter, so the parties must have been inside warm places. They never said, just left around sunset and came home just before sunrise. The babysitter — his name had been Phillip too, she just adored that name — had let her stay up and would let her watch whatever she wanted, just as long as she didn’t bother him while he read his books. He never said much, just read. Not like her Phillip now. Elizabeth never saw Phillip read anything, not even the directions on how to set up the pretty big television in the living room. He just knew how to do stuff. She wished she could do that. These knots had been hard to learn, and took lots of practice.
She got the idea watching that writer lady from England talking about how she just wanted to write about a young girls dream to find somebody rich who could show her a world she’d never know. Something about being tied down and forced to do things. Elizabeth had never been tied down, and Phillip never really forced her to do anything. Not really. He’d just shout and glare at her, his eyes all glowy — how did they do that anyway? — and she’d suddenly do whatever he wanted just to make him happy. Even if she was sure he was wrong and she was right, it didn’t matter anymore. She just wanted him happy.
So she’d looked up the laptop Phillip had bought her — he was always buying her things and encouraging her to just stay at home and relax and let him do all the work because he really was just that sweet — how to tie knots and this Boy Scout site had all these explanations of knots and what they were for and had pictures and videos and everything to learn how to tie them. She had no idea Boy Scouts learned these kinds of things. Momma and Daddy hadn’t let her meet any boys when she was growing up. They’d kept her at home with Momma teaching her to read and write and Daddy teaching her math and history and science so she could know all about how the rest of the world had gone crazy back in the 1960’s when the hippies discovered pot. The pot had made everybody start talking about love and sharing and shutting down the government and that the craziness had spread until it was okay for boys to love boys and girls to love girls and it just wasn’t safe outside the house anymore, so she had to stay inside. Daddy had been really wise; he was the one who brought her Phillip over and Elizabeth took one look into his eyes and just fell in love completely. Daddy gave his permission for them to marry just a few weeks later, and she’d been with Phillip for the 5 years since.
Looking around that Boy Scout site, though, Elizabeth found this one knot that wouldn’t move much in one direction but could be used to get a rope real tight around something if you pulled. That sounded like what she needed, so she took some of the rope that was in the washroom and she cut some pieces of it. She practiced and practiced until she could tie the knots with her eyes closed, and once she got them right she was so proud of herself. She could tie the rope around her leg all nice and loose, but if she held the other end and pulled with her leg the loop would tighten until it rubbed against her skin all the way around. Those Boy Scouts sure were smart to come up with something like that. Now she just had to get everything set up. She hoped this would make Phillip happy. He’d been mad when he’d found out his rope had been cut, and his eyes had gone all glowy again, but she’d promised him that she was working on a present for him and that he would see, it would be okay, and she’d let him do anything he wanted if he’d just let her have the rope. He stared at her for a really long time then, looking down at her, his face all serious and shadows and his eyes shining in the dark, and she sat still for so long her back and her shoulders and her legs started to hurt, but he finally smiled and his face went back to normal and he told her she could have the rope. She was so happy! She really didn’t like making him angry.
Elizabeth was busy tying ends of the ropes to the feet under the bed when Phillip called to say he was on his way home. He always called as he was leaving work, always around sunset every day, and she always got this nervous little ball in the pit of her stomach every time he said he was coming home to His Little Pet. It was a cute name, and she was sure it was normal, but it still sounded a little scary sometimes. She shook it off. She had work to do.
She stripped — she was sure it would be better to be naked for him — and her breasts bounced free when she pulled off her shirt. Her tight little bottom sprung free as she pulled down her shorts. Phillip didn’t like it when she wore bras or panties and she never ever wanted to make him angry. She folder her colothes and put them on the chair on the corner to be tidy before she lay face down on the bed. She looked down on one foot and slipped it through the loop she’d made in the rope and kicked her leg up hard. The rope tightened hard, making this little zipping sound kinda like when you unzip a jacket too fast, and pinched her leg. Oops. Too hard. She twisted and sat up and tried to work her fingers under the rope, but it wouldn’t move. She rolled it — ouch that hurt! — just a little down her leg, closer to her ankle. There. That was better.
Elizabeth lay back down and slipped her other foot through the other loop at the end of the bed. She raised her leg slowly this time and the rope tightened just right until both her legs were trapped. Her legs were spread really wide — she forgot just how big the bed was until now — and it almost hurt a little but she remembered that pain was supposed to be part of the fun of being tied down. She couldn’t remember who had said that, or if she’d read it, but it seemed right so she tried to ignore it.
She pushed herself up on the bed just a little and reached out with both arms. She slipped her hands through the loops in the ropes at the top of the bed — barely making it — and curled both hands into fist and pulled back on the ropes. They locked around her wrists, just loose enough to that she could wiggle a little. Not too much, though. If she wiggled too much the knots would get tighter and she didn’t want her hands or feet to fall asleep. That would be bad, she knew it. She just knew it.
Eliabeth lay there, watching the sunlight fade in the room, wondering if Phillip would be happy with his present. She hoped he would be. She’d never tried anything like this before, had always let him tell her what to do. He was older, he was smarter, and all she had to do was look into his eyes and she knew that everything would be alright. She didn’t know how, she just knew, and that was enough. But laying on the bed, naked and tied up, waiting for him to get home, waiting for him to see her, she wondered. She doubted. She started to get afraid that he would be angry. She wondered what he would do if he saw her helpless there and lost control and hurt her. She wiggled her hips against the bed, whimpering a little as her mind started chasing doubts, and then she realized she had gotten wet in her lady parts and had been rubbing them against the bed. It was a horrible realization. Phillip hated it when she got wet in her lady parts without him. Oh, he was going to be mad for sure!
Just then she heard the front door unlock and open. She heard his footsteps as he entered the house and closed the door. She had to get out, she had to undo the knots, she had to get dressed, he would find her naked and wet between the legs and he would get mad, he would get so mad, and his eyes would be glowing and she wouldn’t see anything in the room except those eyes, those glowing eyes, and that bright white smile of his and…
Too late. The door to the bedroom swung open. Elizabeth hadn’t even heard Phillip coming. She twisted her head this way and that, trying to see the door, but she could only catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. He was there. He had to be there. He had come in, she had heard the key, she had heard his footsteps, and the door to the room didn’t open all by itself, he had to be there! Where was he? Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why couldn’t she hear anything except her whimpering? Why couldn’t she see him?
Suddenly a hand was on the back of her head, buried in her hair, pulling it hard and tight. Her eyes watered. Her breath caught in her throat. Her head was yanked up awkwardly, painfully. She could barely breathe. Her whimpering grew louder. Her vision started fading. As the room started fading to black she barely registered the sight drifting downward — downward? — into view of Phillip’s smooth, bald head and his dark glowing eyes.
This was a Wicked Wednesday post. Visit the Wicked Wednesday page to see other participants.
Stay SINful, friends.