Thursday, September 25, 2008


I waited until she'd started her shower, rummaging through my collection for the necessary equipment. In the background, i could hear the sound of water pouring forth from the shower nozzle onto her body, cleansing her. In a few minutes, i would provide my own form of cleansing.

I stood at the end of the bed, looking at each post, then studying the steel scrollwork that formed the footboard. I spread my legs as far as i could, until each foot rested against the bed's supporting trestle. I gathered my bearings, feeling how much balance i'd lost from when i was just standing straight up. I examined the thick, black railing that travelled between the two posts. I rested my wrists on it, spreading them as far out as i could.

More. I'd need more.

I leaned my torso forward so that my arms could lie against the railing. I noticed the arch in my back in this position.

More. I'd want more.

I folded my top half fully over the bar, pressing the center of my chest into it. This brought my entirety of both arms in contact with the rail, even my armpit rested on it, but more importantly, it caused an extreme, even taxing arch of the back. My butt peaked into the air like a mountain ridge - impassable, unavoidable, intense.

I'd found my posture.

She emerged from the shower, glistening with freshness. Truthfully, i adore every inch of my girl, but my favorite moments to put my hands and mouth on and in every crevice and cavity is right after she's bathed.

"Darling, are you gon-"

I interrupted her by grabbing her by the wrist and directed her to the bathroom. She followed silently, accepting of the transaction about to take place. I pressed her body into the bed's end and asked her to let me know if she should grow cold. I then set to work.

Feverishly, i grabbed a coil of jute, positioned her right ankle to the same spot my own was in modeling this posture. I quickly anchored her foot to the bed, traveling up her leg, attaching every twelve inches or so the rest of her thigh to the bed's frame. I switched to her other leg, and mirrored my rigging. I specifically pulled the rope that ran just under her ass cheeks on both sides particularly tight for three reasons:

-this cradle would provide an inordinate amount of support and security to her, allowing her to lean back in the bondage
-it pinched the meat of her ass, causing it to bubble out and protrude in a cartoon-like fashion
-it would trap more blood in the sub-cutaneous levels, resulting in dramatically-enhanced markings from the cane

I fashioned her arms to the railing with as much greediness as i had enjoyed on her legs. In fact, several times, i had to pause and re-adjust the sizable erection straining upward in the crotch of my pants. When i was finished, she sat there completely immobilized. Her naked flesh angrily conversed with the rope that bound it to the steel bedframe. It was an inviting picture, her body hung like captured prey in my trap, juxtaposed by the very furniture she and i sought for re-energizing and slumber. It reminded me of the a rhyme from my childhood days:

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.
Once i'd sufficiently fastened her to the bed, i stepped away, examining my handiwork. I thought of the wind, and its blows, its strength, and its damage. I exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway, knowing i'd leave her hanging there for a few minutes before i returned, cradle and all.


doll said...

Oh I can't believe that you've had no response to this post. As a friend recently commented to me it is wonderful to have the outlines of a picture painted and then be left to fill in the detail. I am now enjoying the contemplation of your bed, your considered choice when purchasing and the endless delight it provides.

goodgirl said...

On rare occasions I come across writings that create electrical currents which cause me to pull away, stopping short of reading to the very end only having to return back to the story and continue at a later date.

Your entry, "Cradled" brought forth a stimulus deep within that I have had to return four times to this very entry in order to finish it.

Your passion is intoxicating.


Deity said...

I'm quite baffled myself. My comments have dwindled to just a few. Should i take the hint?

Yes, the bed. It screamed out at me in the showroom. I knew i had to have it.

currents. i love when that happens. passion always affects me. it could be a commercial, as long as i see passion, i get choked up.

doll said...


it is all too easy to become a comments junkie. Given how fickle they can be the addiction needs to be severely repressed.

Anonymous said...


Please don't stop writing here whatever you do.

The visual images you paint of you and your girl and what you do are probably my favourite posts.

Having said that, I do love following the wanderings of your own mind.

Your bed has often intrigued me. What exactly does it look like?
And your girl too. I have a vague idea of how she dresses like a lady, but a few more details would fill in the picture.
Is that enough material for now?


PS Have you read any stories lately?

Deity said...

'tis true, i am indeed a comment junkie in that it's partially the only reason i keep this up.

i write on my own, and would continue to do so, but without the interactivity, i needn't put it up here.

you can sort of see what it looks like in here.

Are you suggesting i take this material and write some posts on it?

p.s. no, not really