He’s tied you down, not up, down. He’s pulled down your clothes, not off, but down. And he’s looking down at you.
You’re kneeling because you can’t be any other way. You’re half naked, well… because you have no choice. Your hands are tied, literally.
And there you sit, in wonder. Perhaps you’ve felt a tremble in your body as he tied you, perhaps there’s arousal, inexplicable, because why would this turn you on?
How much lower can you go? Where’s the beauty, the sexy, in this? A tear would make more sense than the smile you feel creeping up on you.
But there is this sense of peace, this calm that travels from deep within. A sigh if you will, you can feel it cover you as you straighten your back.
He smiles and calls you beautiful, and suddenly the blanket seems like satin, the sock is made of lace. And you are His.
Such beauty is submission.
Love this.
The little glimpse of how the world looks from her knees.
Perfect.
Words by the Dirty Romantic
