“Happy Anniversary baby,” he whispered, squeezing my hand tightly, “you look a little...are you ok, you don’t regret tonight?”
“Not at all,” I assured him, “just imagining how you’re going to top this next year!”
He didn’t say anything but chuckled a little, pulling me close to lean on his chest.
Sometimes the best gifts are the ones you can share with others.
Binding
I wasn’t sure why I had agreed to it in the first place. Sure, money’s been tight; but a bondage magazine? What had I gotten myself into?
There was the odd pin up style shoot I and a few ‘artistic nudes’, but mostly I wore clothing---even if it was skimpy, and I’ve never been tied up. Handcuffs a few times, yes---but nothing like this.
Regardless, it had to be done now; I needed the cash, I signed the contract---and what's the exciting life of a model without a few risque shoots, right?
The photographer had arranged to use some of the private rooms at one of the S+M clubs just outside of town for what he called a ‘japanese bondage spectacle’. From what I could see on the internet, it looked pretty tame, just ropes and knotwork; none of the gags, hoods and freaky stuff. He assured me there would be ‘nothing penetrative’. Well, isn’t that thoughtful.
When I arrived, a very courteous young lady in a maid costume was more than willing to assist me in navigating the huge facility. She led me down a long hall, dutifully peering in to make sure it wasn’t in use before ushering me inside.
The photographer was there already, and there was a huge assortment of heavy silk ropes in vibrant colors laid out on a large table in front of him. He looked up from his laptop and smiled when he saw me, extending his hand.
“Good, you didn’t chicken out,” he chuckled, “I’m Richard.”
“Nope...this is quite the place! And I’m Michelle.”
“Yes...it is. You look just as lovely in person, I promise to do you justice with these photos. My assistant will be doing the ropework, I’m just taking the pictures.”
He pointed to the back of the room where a younger guy was sitting on the floor, fiddling with some of the camera equipment. He was cute in an offbeat way; messy dark hair and glasses; baggy jeans and a hoodie.
The photographer approached me, looking around the room at the setup.
“So...I’m pretty well ready for you here, your makeup looks good. Whenever you’re ready you can undress and we’ll get started.”
He handed me a robe, presumably for in between photo sets; but modesty seemed a little out of place here so I didn’t bother with it. He’d told me makeup wasn’t much of an issue, so I’d kept it simple and natural except for a swipe of deep red lipstick.
“Brandon, we’re all ready here, whenever you are.”
The cute assistant got up and made his way over. He was probably around my age, 25, with a bit of a goatee and scruff that gave him a just-woke-up kind of look. The dishevelled hair and glasses were a nice change from the uptight hipsters I’m stuck with at work too, all worked up that their shoes are from last year’s line. His dark eyes were intense, penetrating; and he was well built with large hands. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a cock to match up...probably not the best time to be lewdly undressing a guy with my mind but hey, it was a sex club!
“Ok, lets get started,” Richard announced, holding up what I guessed would be my sole accessories for the first photos---three red silk ropes.
Brandon nodded and motioned for me to follow him.
“Perfect, come with me please.”
No problem.
He led me to a section of the room with luxurious drapes hanging from the tall windows, nothing to give away the rooms true purpose but a few steel eyebolts fixed into the floor and ceiling, elegantly disguised by the yards of hanging fabric. It was a far cry from the shackles and stocks I’d been imagining when I signed on, but definitely a nice surprise.
Brandon grabbed the ropes and held them for a moment, studying me. He lifted my wrists and passed one of the ropes over each, securing my arms at the back with a series of woven knots. He looped it around me a few more times, each pass making the bindings more restrictive.
“Can I get you down on your knees?”
That had most polite way I’ve ever been asked that question...
“You sure can,” I babbled, realizing immediately I sounded like a complete moron.
He smiled a little at my response, which I took to be a good thing. My ankles were bound the same as my wrists, and Brandon connected them together, lurching my body into a backwards bend with my breasts pointing upwards. The rest of my body was free, and felt oddly tactile, as though having part of me immobilized heightened the sensitivity elsewhere.