Cradled

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.