Rope isn’t a major kink of mine, or at least not in the way I thought it might be before I actually tried it. Rather than being into rope play, I find that restraints – especially quick, easy ones – can work into the kink scenes I love. However, this filth is a fictionalised account of some scenes that may have featured during last week’s fucking, written about with the knowledge and consent of my partner.
While she pretty sure that she hadn’t called rope play boring, it’s hard to argue with the dominant enby who has an arm wrapped around your throat as they explain what they’re going to do to you. Namely, show her that rope can be fast and dirty and totally her kink after all.
She doesn’t protest, because right now she is eager for anything that involves their hands on her. There are so many ways they could fuck, so many ways her sadistic bean could hurt her and make her beg for more, and she enjoys the submissive surrender of letting them pick how they’ll fuck. There’s trust there, because she knows that whatever they pick will be good for her, and they’ll listen if she tells them to stop. That trust and vulnerability is hot, even if the rope isn’t.
Or at least, it isn’t until they smirk at her, taunting them about how rope can be quick and rough and how they know it will make her cunt wet.
They tell her to look at them while they tie her up, in the dominant tone they use to tell her to look at them while they’re hurting her. It’s hard for a different reason this time – not because she wants to hide away from the pain and the shame that she’s hungry for it, but because the competency with which their hands move is hot in itself. Their confidence is sexy, and they’re radiating dominant energy.
“Look at me.”
Their dom voice makes her squirm and blush, and the stern reminder is accompanied by a sharp pinch to her nipple. She whine, but they ignore her and pull the rope tighter around her wrist. She’s surprised by how fast they work, pulling her arm behind her and tying a quick harness around her chest. The speed with which they fasten the rope around her makes her feel like she is completely at their mercy.
She very much likes being at their mercy – all exposed and vulnerable – and wonders if the rope would keep her in place if she struggled. They hadn’t negotiated that, but they could… Her thoughts are interrupted when they slip their hand between a length of rope and her skin, tugging her forward into them but keeping their lips tantalisingly out of reach. She pouts; they smirk.
“Still think rope play is boring?”
“Kiss me, you fucking bastard.”
“Don’t swear at your dom, filthy slut.”
She struggles to push upwards towards their lips, but two fingers twisted in the harness keep her in place despite her squirming. She tries to look for sensuality in how the rope feels against her skin, but they’re already untying her. She’s released from the rope as quickly as she was captured in it, and part of her misses the feeling of being controlled by them.
They don’t untie the loop around her wrist, though, and tugging sharply down on it forces her to her knees. They follow her down and kiss her, but before she can get comfortable they’re pulling her back to her feet. Unsettled, that’s how she feels. Unsettled and off balance and vulnerable to their every whim – and that is always hot. She doesn’t have time to process this before they’re winding the rope around her body again. Between her legs this time, making her aware of her eager cunt and holding her body twisted into an uncomfortable position.
She looks into their eyes, which are sparkling with sadistic glee: “You like this, don’t you? Dirty bitch.”
They use the rope to mind-fuck her, and it’s quick and dirty and she loves it. Later they bind her lower leg to her thigh, leaving her helpless as she tries to get away from their evil fingers that seek out the sweet spots that make her squeal. By the time they lie sated next to each other, she’s certain that she wants them to tie her up again.
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Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.