The music faded and lights slowly dimmed as a visual cue for the ensuing act. 

A man dressed in a white linen outfit leisurely strolled through the crowd and made his way to the centre of the exhibition hall. He walked up to a single white chair which was lit up under a beam of bright, white light coming from directly above it. The hall darkened while the crowd organically formed a makeshift circle around the spotlit chair. 

Some recognized the man as the host artist and one could hear people choking on their drinks when he proceeded to undress. Completely. The white linen garbs fell onto the floor and beautifully exposed his naked body. The small gathering hardly moved nor spoke a word whilst held mesmerised by the unfolding exhibition. 

The naked man stood silently in the semi darkness behind the lit chair. His chiselled chest and abdominal muscles were strikingly accentuated and both women and men gawked at the Adonis-like stature of a man. 

An Asian string instrument melodically plucked at the silent hall while a woman, dressed in a black velvet coat, walked forward from between the crowd and stopped in front of the chair. The two of them stood dead still until she pulled at a string around her shoulders and allowed the coat to slide off from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor and revealed her pristine, near luminescent white skin which seemed to glow under the bright light. Dressed only in black stilettos and a matching set of lingerie garments, it was in stark contrast to her bright white skin. 

Lola’s knuckles whitened from the tensed clutch around her wine glass stem. She was irritated about the unsolicited scenes which were unravelling before her. She did not sign up for this and only came here tonight to appease a friend who wanted to see the artist, Raoul Abarca, an immigrant artist who had become an overnight sensation in Berlin. He painted, did graffiti street art, and had multiple outrageous performance art projects. One of which made news headlines when he graphically used a sledge hammer to pulverise hundreds of watermelons that were staged on child-like mannequins. 

She was, however, not a fan, and if anything, thought the man was a fraud. A hocus pocus entertainer and not a true artist. Certainly not like her father. She understood what it meant to be an artist. The commitment required to hone one’s craft and how the productions of one's ideas had to be rooted in discipline. This is where true art was forged. Not this crowd pleasing mumbo jumbo that was happening here. 

She watched with disdain and when he picked up the black coat to cover himself with it, she sighed loudly in relief, “Oh, thank God!”

The artist went on to perform a shibari rope tying ceremony which peaked climatically to the noticeable gasps from the audience when he threw a rope over an industrial hook and hoisted the tightly, yet intricately beautiful pattern-knotted model with a pulley system until she became suspended in mid-air.

All the lights went dark bar the round white beam of light which illuminated the suspended model. For a few brief moments, there was total darkness with only the pattering sound of rain over the ever-present string-plucked melody. The hall lit up slowly while the model was lowered down by the artist until she was back on the white chair. A deliberately slow and apparent unwrapping ceremony followed. 

Tenderly, he untied knot by knot, and undid the thick twine ropes from her body. Once all the rope was lifted from her skin, he rubbed a small block of ice over the indented rope imprints, following the lines which traversed her body. It turned the rope remnants into dark red welts which were in stark contrast to her snow white skin. Her body had now become a representation of the experience and presented it in an entirely different way. Her body had become the art work. The crowd cheered and applauded for more than ten minutes.

“That poor model,” Lola rolled her eyes at her friend while they discussed the show afterwards, “I think it’s so cruel what he did to her.’’ 

But her attention was drawn away from the conversation by a hand which gently curled firmly around her upper arm. 

“You do not approve?” a deep, articulated foreign accent vibrated through her. 

Turning around, her gaze was met by a tall man, whose fingers relaxed its grip and softly caressed down her exposed skin until it reached her hand where his fingers slipped in between hers. 

Lola did not recognize him immediately and was taken aback by the dark toned man with a thick mane of unruly curls towering over her. Dressed in a white cotton shirt which was held together by no more than two or three buttons and a pair of faded jeans which had bleached torn threads dangling from holes at both knees. He wore a pair of sandals which peered out from below the worn seams of his jeans. 

“Uhm, no. Uhm, what are we talking about?” she stuttered, still confused about why he was talking to her. “And you are?” she fired back with resumed confidence.

“My apologies, I am Raoul. I’m the artist. I brought you… all of this tonight,” both his arms gestured round the exhibition hall, while he laughed loudly.

Her friend awkwardly stepped forward and held out her hand to introduce herself, but Raoul remained fixated on Lola.

“Oh my God!” Lola feigned an excited reply, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand.  “Oh course, you are the artist,” she pronounced the words mockingly and laughed, “how silly of me. Yes, I did not enjoy the degradation of another female form under the guise of art. When all you offered was an evening of smutty entertainment.” She paused as she stepped forward and looked up at him,” but I really liked your cock,” she added and stared at him intently to gauge his response to her taunt.

An uncomfortable paused moment dragged by before Raoul’s head flung back with a roar of laughter which came from the pit of his stomach.

“Guay! Yes, yes. Fóllame! I was going for, how do you say, ‘verdad desnuda’, uhm… the naked truth,” he replied, shrugging while his shoulders shook with laughter. 

Lola stood boldly with her chest out in a defiant posture but simultaneously felt hypnotized by Raoul’s emerald green eyes which were locked onto hers. She felt trapped and could not look away. He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word penetrating her chest and causing flutters which tingled down into her stomach. 

“May I ask your name… Una mujer hermosa y atrevida?” 

“Lola,” immediately blurted out, followed by an involuntary giggle, “Lola, just Lola, yes. And forgive my candour, Raoul. I just don’t get the show aspect of your art.” 

She suddenly felt silly about being rude.

“Lola, I want you to uhm, visit my studio? Would you uhm, considerar, becoming my musa for a day? I require such honesty like you. Me encantaría pintarte!  And I would love to paint you. Maybe I can help you understand my work better.” 

She could feel her cheeks glowing and knew she was blushing. She tried to cool it down by touching her face with the back of her hand. Flamingly flushed, she suddenly felt like a naughty, wide-eyed schoolgirl.

“Uhm, ok… wow! I am no model, Raoul. Much less how to be a muse,” she giggled again, before trying to look serious.

“You are ‘exactamente’ what I am looking for, Lola,” he insisted and called for someone over his shoulder. A youngish man quickly moved towards them. 

“Yes, Raoul?” 

“Tim, this is Lola. Arrange a day next week for her to visit my studio, por favor,” he instructed and turned back to her. “Tim will take care of the preparativos, uh… the arrangements. I really looking forward to see you again. Unfortunately, I have to go away to some guests now. Say yes?” he implored while his hands rested on her shoulders. 

“Uhm, ok. Yes!” she agreed without giving it much thought.

He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

“You will not regret this, I promise,” he said and kissed her on both cheeks. Lola could feel the heat emanating from her face when she blushed again. 

After some back-and-forth negotiating, she agreed with Tim’s date and time to meet Raoul. Next Thursday afternoon at 3pm. His studio was in the city and although she could walk there from her work, she would need to take the afternoon off. Which irked her once more. 

The days following their meeting dragged along for Lola. She had done numerous searches to learn more about him. Raoul Abarca was a Basque immigrant who moved here about seven years ago. He studied art at a university in Bilbao and from what she could gather, held several successful exhibitions in Spain before moving to Germany. 

He must be around forty something. ‘Maybe a little old for me,’ she told her best friend over coffee recently, who just laughed it off and retaliated something about age does not matter. She was only twenty three. Twenty four in November, she would tell herself. 

Lola was quite surprised to discover that Raoul would reappear in her thoughts. Often.

Whilst masturbating with MAX 2.0 (her trusty vibrator), she was rather surprised when Raoul’s face was conjured in her mind's eye. Her fantasy quickly escalated and she imagined how the burly man would penetrate her. She can remember screaming as she climaxed and once her senses returned, found that she had three fingers buried deep inside her soaked pussy. Blushing, she recounted how the well-built, naked Raoul ravaged her. She giggled excitedly at the thought of seeing him again. 

When Thursday arrived, Lola twirled around in front of her mirror numerous times before deciding on an outfit for the day. Dressed in her favourite black summer dress, she slipped on her precious Jimmy Choo heels to ‘fabulize’ her demure outfit. Finally, after looking over her shoulder at the mirrored image, she concluded that this would be it. . 

Work was a blur and when the clock ticked past 2:30pm, she excused herself and made her way to the studio address, which was only about five blocks away. It was a lovely day out and Lola caught glimpses of herself in retail shop front windows when she walked past. 

Her heart pounded in her chest when she suddenly found herself standing in front of Raoul’s studio door. She quickly grabbed her makeup mirror from the handbag to do a final check. Beaming with confidence, she leaned forward and pressed the doorbell. 

“Hola, Lola!” Raoul’s voice beamed from the speaker, and with a loud buzzing sound, the large glass panel door was unlocked. “Just close behind you, por favour. I’ll come down,” he continued before the speaker clicked off. 

Lola entered the smallish gallery-looking space which was covered in paintings. Drywall partitions created a maze-like structure which zigzagged deeper into the narrow room. She heard footsteps coming down a spiral, timber staircase towards the back of the room.

Tied up, albeit tousled, hair and wearing a blue, paint-covered overall that was unzipped in the front, and fell open while he walked towards her. The chiselled chest and abs were shown off deliciously and there was a teasing hint of a thick, curly tuft of dark hair that peeled out above his underwear. 

“Lola!” he called out, smiling broadly and reached out to hold her by the shoulders. He leaned in to kiss her on each cheek. 

“I’m so happy you made it, feliz! Feliz! I have been excited to meet with you again.” 

His voice had a velvety thickness to it, she thought. It felt like thick honey drizzling down her naked skin. 

“Oh wow,” she giggled. Much to her dismay, as she did not want to sound like a hormonal teenager again.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Raoul. Having a painting done with you is quite an honour,” she took a deep breath, relieved that she managed to string the sentence together without stuttering. 

“I think we are going to do great work together,” he replied and grabbed her hand to lead her upstairs, “but I have something else, uhm… in mind for you, Lola.”

At the top of the staircase, Raoul turned around to face her. 

“After the way you, uhm…,” his eyes closed as he searched for a word, “expressed your feelings about my work the other night, I have a journey in mind which I would love to explore with you. Could you trust me? Would you, uhm… surrender yourself to me? I do believe it will be good for you,” he added in earnest. 

A little stunned, shell-shocked even, a thousand scenarios muddled her mind simultaneously. She felt her heart beating in her chest. She felt anxious, yet she did not fear the man standing in front of her. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ was her final thought before she nodded.

“Ok, Raoul, I’ll do as you ask. But I have to ask: You won’t hurt me, will you?” 

“No, Lola, and you can simply tell me when to stop. OK?” 

He seemed genuine in his demeanour and she took a deep breath, exhaled and smiled. 

“OK. Where do you want me? Do you want me to pose in a certain way?” 

“Don’t worry about posing, I’ll guide you,” he smiled reassuringly back at her. She loved the way his mouth curled up on the sides when he smiled. Butterflies fluttered around her tummy.

“Turn around for me,” he instructed and stepped behind her. She could feel the close-up heat of his body and held back to not reach back and touch him. But then his hands came to rest on her shoulders before moving up to pull a soft piece of material over her eyes. Working unhurriedly, he pulled it tightly until the material was taught against her scalp. A knot was tied quietly before his hands stroked back to ensure the blindfold was properly in place. 

Lola nervously rubbed her palms against her hips, suddenly aware of the clamminess on her trembling hands. Her chest felt like a horse was galloping through it. Her heart thumped faster and faster and under the heaving chest, sensitive nipples rapidly stiffened from the mere dress material that softly dragged across it. This caused extraordinary electric tingles which danced across her bosom and shot hot sensations into her.

“You are… eres embriagador, Lola. Uhm… intoxicating!” 

That baritone delivery could be the sexiest sentence she had heard, Lola thoughts wandered joyfully. 

“I will remove your dress now,” she heard him say and did not question his statement. She was quite prepared to remove it herself, but stood still while she heard the zipper being drawn down her back. Cool air slithered onto her skin while his hands softly caressed her arms and moved up to her shoulders where his fingers slipped under the straps. She shivered when the dress was lifted and slipped off her frame. 

Standing rigidly upright, she felt vulnerable and exposed. But oddly enough, she was also aware that she was definitely not fearful but rather nervously excited. A couple of minutes passed in silence when she became concerned that Raoul might have left her. 

“Are you there? Raoul?” she called for him. Her body jolted when she heard him right behind her.

“I’m here, Lola.” 

She smiled when she heard his charming accent.

“I was just enjoying your stunning beauty. These beautiful contours and crevices are very inspiring. Muy!” he exclaimed.

“Stay right there,” he instructed, as she heard his footsteps walk away from her, “I will be back.”

She could hear faint rumblings and scratching and then returning back towards her. 

“I will guide you,” she heard him behind her.

Raoul gently held her shoulders and slowly walked her forward. When they stopped, he turned her around. She could sense how intimately close he was. His breath caused a strand of hair to fall onto her cheek. 

“Lola, I want you to… uhm, surrender yourself.” 

It was more instruction than request but her head turned into his hand that brushed the hair back over her ear. 

He did not wait for an answer. She felt his firm grip on her right wrist and then the coarse twine rope being wrapped around it. She counted three loops before he took her other wrist and did the same. Both her arms were hoisted above her head and as the rope was pulled taut, raised her body into a slung position.

“Raoul, please don’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me, will you?” she blurted nervously under her breath. 

He stopped pulling at the rope. 

“Tell me to stop, Lola.” 

A silent pause followed for a couple of seconds. She could only hear her own breathing. And that of Raoul’s. She knew he would not hurt her but needed to be reassured. 

“No,” she replied softly. 

“Say it again,” his deep voice was right next to her ear. She was not aware he was this close.  His warm breath swept down her exposed neck. Reaching her nipples which stiffened from the temperate air.

“No!” she replied firmly. 

She heard him lift the ropes and how the pulley groaned when it was drawn at again. Her arms were heaved up and secured to keep her in position. 

The room fell silent. Lola’s world had become a dark space in which she had no control. A blank canvas in which her mind started seeing things. She felt vulnerable and completely subjected to Raoul’s will which provoked a peculiar excitement within her. One she was not familiar with at all. 

She took a deep breath. 

She felt her heart pounding in her chest. 

There were flutters in her stomach. 

And tiny shimmers across her abdomen which bolted into her groin. 

Was it fear? Or was it rather a heightened sense of awareness? 

There were new odours which had snuck into her nostrils. Oil paints and thinners. Old smoke. A slightly sour smell, like an old sweaty T-shirt which had been lying at the bottom of the laundry basket.

She also felt the material of her blindfold pulling tightly against her head. Clumps of her hair were entwined in the knot and had become an uncomfortable sensation. The rope twines callously bit into her skin with every movement and she tried to adjust her feet in an attempt to release some of the hung tension. To no avail.

Raoul’s warm exhaled breath unexpectedly swept across her shoulder. She did not hear him come up behind her. Her body jolted, startled by his sudden proximity but calmed from the traced fingers that drew down her spine. Both his hands slipped around her waist and slid down her sides, dragging her black G-string along. 

His presence at her pussy was betrayed by his hot gasp splashing over it. She imagined how his face was right there, staring lustfully at her. Aching stabs darted into her clit that made her squirm and wriggle her hips in search of relief. 

His hand slipped gently around her ankle and guided each foot while removing her underwear. Lola instinctively crossed her legs in an attempt to cover her modesty. 

But she moaned in protest when she felt her mouth being pried open and something soft and silky shoved into it. She did not expect this and inhaled deep breaths through her nose when her mouth was suddenly stuffed full.

“Do not spit this out,” his firm instruction was right at her ear.  

“Uh hu,” she managed to throat utter.

The familiar smell of her own underwear rose up into her nasal passages. A personal aroma which she recognised from checking her knickers before dropping it into the washing basket. A fragrant mixture of washing powder and her own moistness. 

She drew another deep breath when a rope was strung around her ankle and hauled to the side. She could hear a tie being made around something metal before he proceeded to do the same with the other leg and in doing so, stretched her legs wide apart. Her toes barely touched the floor and she was now more suspended than grounded. 

“Perfecta,” his breath licked up her back. 

Butterflies fluttered inside her. Oh, and her labia was swelling. Ecstatically peeling outward to expose her inner lips to the cool air. She trembled while her clitoris folds unwrapped as it swelled out.

A tap opened, running something full of water before it was turned off. Something unscrewed. Then mixed as she heard, a spoon was probably clinking against glass whilst stirred. Nearing footsteps before cold liquid was brushed up her back in one stroke. 

The cold liquid ran down her back into the butt crevice, making her flinch when it streamed down her ass before bucketing into (what sounded like) a metal bowl on the floor. 

A smaller brush drew swishing strokes from her spine onto her sides. Soft, brisk brushes with more trickles of the cold liquid which tickled and meandered down her back. 

Unexpectedly, a cold brush swirled around her right nipple, causing a single stream which flowed along the curve of her breast before running down onto her ribcage and hip bones. 

“Do you know what ‘Kinbaku is, Lola?”

“No. Is it a type of food?”

“No, Lola, it’s  uhm, a uhm… ‘forma de arte moderna’,” he paused for a second while searching for words, “a form of modern, no, modernised art that was mastered in Japan.

“In kinbaku, it says pleasure is more in the journey, Lola. More so than the ‘destino’, uhm, the place you arrive at. I want you to experience this journey with me. I will guide you. I will work to my best ability to make this, uhm, how you say? An experience for your soul.”  He continued talking as he moved around her. She could hear his voice. Hear thuds which she imagined to be thick ropes, being picked at or dropped onto the floor.

“I am doing rope harness on you today, Lola. Sometimes called a rope dress, or a karada,” his appeasing voice circled around her until she sensed him standing behind her. 

A rope was slung around her neck and then looped behind her before he moved to the front where it was dragged through a knot and when tugged, tightened around her neck with just enough slack allowing her to breathe comfortably. She inhaled deeply through her nose in relief.

“Is that OK?”

“Uh hu.”

The heightened sensitivity of her skin revealed the rope path which he wound and weaved around her. First, there were two loops, done above her breasts and then another two below that. Raoul worked in silence, accompanied only by the sound of the twine ropes chafing against one another. And occasionally, by Lola’s throat groans when the twine fibres chewed into her skin when the knots were fastened. 

Twin strands were drawn across her exposed breasts. Meticulously, doing one breast at a time. Another knot was made and tightened. The shoulder slung strands dug into the soft breasts' flesh and she squealed loudly when he adjusted the double strands adjacent each nipple to pinch it tightly between the coarse fibres. 

She drew in a deep breath and learned that although there is enough room to breathe, even the smallest movement caused the ropes to delve deeper into her flesh. 

Not too painful but with enough force to motivate one to keep still so not to experience this harsh sensation.

“This… is a shinju knot,” she heard him talk while he worked, “or the pearl knot harness.”

She did not reply, having become somewhat spellbound by the meticulous wounding and knotting process. Blindfolded, her remaining senses had become highly elevated and she was revelling in this “sensory zen garden”.   

And then there was Raoul. Not only could she hear and feel his presence, she could smell him. His body heat coated her. His breath had a weight which dented her skin. It was all so new. A novel, near virgin-like type of intimate closeness. 

Her nipples puffed up even more when his arms touched her exposed skin while he worked the rope around her. Strung tightly between the twin twines, both nipples were clasped to the point of near-unbearable pain. She yearned for relief.

Her flight or flee mind fought the uncomfortable clinched nipples, only to cause sharp, stinging ripples around her body that required her to keep still. In that stillness, the pain morphed into an aching, pulsating heat which spread across her chest.

Raoul methodically worked his way down her bare frame. Her naked body was treated more like a canvas than an object, yet, in her blindfolded state, each movement and each touch had become massively magnified. 

The dull ache in her groin had grown into a pulsating throb and exposed an acute awareness of her rousing arousal. Her body was delighted in this state. 

Then she felt double ropes tied onto her chest and strung loosely underneath her crotch, up to the back of the neck halter where the single strands were passed from back to front, looping into the rope dress. 

“A crotch rope, a Matanawa, passes between your legs, Lola. It can make either pain or pleasure on you.” he spoke while he tied knots at her neck and moved in front of her again. 

She could hear that he was lower down and felt his hot breath blow against her shaved mound. There was a familiar colder seam which she knew was her own moistness leaking out from between her lips.

Raoul pulled the ropes through one another several times and then moved behind her. He gently tightened the slack which pressed into her vulva. It was strung through some other pieces and pulled tight with a sudden jerk. Rope knots minced onto her semi-exposed clitoris and into her tight butt hole with pinpoint precision. A drawn out, throaty squeal was all she could manage, panting heavily while her body settled into its restraint cocoon. 

Back at her pussy, he hooked his fingers through and separated the twin cords to pass between the outer labia. And when he tightened a knot at her back, the tensioned ropes flayed her lips apart. The slightest movement of air cooled the moist, exposed inner walls. 

She also accepted the fact that she was now totally surrendered to Raoul’s will. He could do with her as he wished and she could not, no, she would not stop him. She felt utter vulnerability, yet simultaneously strong and confident in her circumscribed space. 

Raoul’s presence dissipated into the darkness once again but in this quiet moment, her body glowed. She felt like a sun emanating massive amounts of radiated heat. Droplets of sweat beaded on her forehead and traced down her face. 

The coldness of the icicle therefore came as a shock, accompanied by her knicker-stuffed, muffled scream when it was dragged across a rope-pinched nipple that further stiffened the already fraught body part. Icy numbness overcame the searing pain as it cooled it down even more. 

Lola moaned loudly when he did the same to the other nipple. Within seconds, the unthawed sensation burnt like hot pokers being pressed against her sensitive areolas. She was overcome by the sheer intensity and could only scream into her gagging panties. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek when she blinked. 

Without warning, the icicle was first thrust between her toes and then slithered up the front of her leg. Until he reached her protruding hip bone, around which he circled before moving to the other side and following the leg down to her toes. The coolness spread up her body and doused the flames which were licking up at her breasts. She felt enormous relief, moaning in hummed, exhaled breaths. 

“Kinbaku can be full of uhm… contradicting feelings, such as sweetness and harshness,” his voice was by her ear again, “arousal and torment. Intensity and comfort.”

She could hear his footsteps fade away and her darkness fell silent once again. 

Her mind became crystal clear, like a muddied pool which became still and translucent. She found she could focus on the finer sensations which had become incalculably pronounced where the rope ran across her skin and held her body into position. She was literally locked in, yet when she relaxed her body, and the initial rope bite was over, she would melt into the blissful suspended space.

She heard footsteps. Her mind was brought back to the room. 

“Inside your mind, there is a, uhm… key,” his warm breath stroked into her ear, “this key will make you to feel free, to feel no restricción.. uhm, no constraints. Even though physically you are bound, your mind can be free.”

She shook hysterically when a flat paddle spanked her buttock. He let the sensation sink in before his hand cupped her ass cheek and caressed it gently. When the hand lifted, the paddle struck her other butt cheek, and he repeated the process over and over. 

Squealing yelps escaped from inside her throat on every spank. When she thought she’d had enough, he would spank her again. Until her buttocks glowed from the repeated smacks. But his hand would cover her skin and caress it too. She quickly yearned for this touch. For the gentle relief. For the stabs around her clit when his palmed hand would rub and squeeze her glowing hot ass cheeks. 

When his fingers unexpectedly dragged across her butthole, it caused a frantic flinching from the mere touch. She fathomed this intimate trace was the first time he touched her in this way and it unleashed a torrent of sensations that made her body feel abuzz.

She sensed he moved to her front and let out a guttural cry when something like a belt smacked up against her throbbing rope-framed vulva. 

“I want the key, Lola,” was all she could make out before the next strike smacked against her swollen labia lips.

Her cry turned to a humming moan when his hand cupped her roped spread pussy. He just held it, a warm comforting asylum from the stinging which licked up along her crotch into her belly. 

She moaned louder, desperate for his fingers to drill some relief into her aching clit. But when his hand lifted off, another blow clapped loudly as the leather strip hit against her moist folds. Pussy fluids flowed freely down her legs while her ardent cries echoed through the room. 

Her pussy was on fire. Each heartbeat pumped more blood into her already swollen lips from the clouted consideration. But when he cupped her again, two fingers curled upwards into her wet cunt and tapped menacingly against her spongy g-spot surface. Her legs buckled and she squealed hysterically while listening to the sploshing wet drubbing from Raoul’s fingers fucking her drenched hole. 

Her dark chamber was lit up by bursts of colour explosions. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest when she experienced what seemed to be a blinding brightness rolling into her darkness, until Raoul unceremoniously withdrew his fingers from her. 

She cried out in anguish. Her desperate need to cum had become her all. She could not comprehend anything else. 

“Not yet, Lola,” his velvet voice penetrated her.

She cursed at him through the soaked stuffed material that gagged her mouth, pleading for him to give her relief from the emanating ache which seemed to be growing larger and larger from her crotch. 

“Only you have the key,” she heard him but her mind rejected the words as she continued her muffled moans and cursing. 

His hand slipped under and gripped the ropes just below her navel, pulling at it which made the twine fibres gnaw into her sensitive skin. The crotch knot dug deeper into her clit nest and elicited a high-pitched cry for respite. His other hand gripped the rope at her back and lifted her body, forcing her to experience the increased pressure from the knots against her clit and butt hole before releasing the bind completely. With a wet thud, the soaked twine dropped on the floor. 

Raoul came up to her side, pressing his body against hers while each hand cupped her pussy and ass. 

“Do you have the key, Lola” He whispered in her ear. But this time his lips touched her lobes which shot more stabbing pricks into her throbbing pussy. Two fingers plunged into her again. Relentlessly, his fingers hit against her g-spot while his palm slapped against her protruding clit.   

She felt the white light again, hitting her face like the warm morning sun. Coating her body with its warmth. Her body lifted out from its confines, floating if you will, into the radiant heat of the light. 

When Raoul’s finger entered her ass, it seared intensely hot against her inner walls. He held it for a second for her twitching sphincter to settle around it before he started pumping into her from the back. 

“Do you have it, Lola?” 

She wasn’t sure if he said it or if it was in her head but she screamed something unrecognisable. The soaked panties were plucked from her mouth and replaced with two sticky fingers on which she sucked frantically. 

“Do you have it, Lola?” he repeated as he re-entered her, lifting her body with each pounding penetration. 

“YESSSSSS!!” she finally managed to utter as her body turned alight. 

Her knotted harness held her tightly while Raoul’s relentless finger fucking drove her orgasmic spasms into stratosphere heights. Her dark world had become a star-filled sky filled with colourful explosions that rained ecstatically onto her super-sensitive skin while freight train orgasms railroaded through her. 

Raoul’s fingers stopped moving but were still sunk deep inside her. His hot breath heaved heavily on her neck and a sweet odour of musky male pheromones penetrated her nostrils. 

Her darkness was no more. 

There was only light. 

And flickers of popping colours which slowly faded into the distance. 

She had never felt this free.