Rope and Veil Pt. 01

She has me writhing beneath her hands and mouth, and oh fuck, she is going to bring me to my panting peak, her mouth hot around my shaft. Amelia's tongue swirls, and her fingers feel my balls rise high, that final constriction before a long stream of come pulses up my shaft.

Her timing is exquisite - just as I am about to spurt the first long throb of cream into her mouth, she raises her head so that just the tip of my cock is between her lips, and when my prick pulses its first throb, her mouth is ready to receive my cream, and Amelia tastes me down. I pulse again, again, and her throat swallows and swallows.

Then I am done, my pulsing stops and Amelia twists her body away from my groin and back to my face. She kisses me deep, passing the taste of me to my own tongue, and I sip myself from her mouth. My come is a slight salty tang, but I taste her lips more. Amelia's red lips, and her dark eyes hold my own.

"So, Alex, gone down, all the way?"

"Fuck, Amelia, riding in the lift with you was never like that.

"You bitch, you're going to say that in the lift one day, and you'll be all Miss Innocence: who, me? I just meant the ground floor...."

She laughs, her beautiful contralto laugh, and my heart melts for her, this beautiful damaged woman who doesn't let a few obstacles get in her way. She has defined herself with her colourful hair and her ropes. We curl together on the bed, her hair a swirl, her cheek on my chest. Her long fingers reach to my cheek and she caresses me softly there. She looks up at me, her big dark eyes a smear of her make-up, darkness upon her cheeks, and smiles.

"This is peaceful, it's nice. Thanks, A. You do me good."

We snuggle down into the warmth of the bed, and talk about this and that. She tells me of her rope master, her Nawashi Roshi, and his sacred approach to her binding. I'm fascinated, and then more so, when she instructs me to go to a drawer and take out a collection of photographs there.

Amelia bound, her body a ravel of ropes carefully tied and knotted; and Amelia unbound, the wrap of the ropes removed, leaving spiralled grooves in her skin. Amelia, her body damaged and ravaged, turning herself into art.

That was Amelia, then; wheelchair bound and tied by ropes, her legs numb but her body alive. She constrains herself and she releases herself, and forces sensation into her flesh to make up for its absence below her waist.

Over the days and weeks she teaches me her twists and ties of rope, her Kinbaku. She lets me bind herself tight, foetal and curled; and she challenges me to tie her tighter.

"The tighter you bind and constrain me, the greater the release when the ropes fall free. My blood, it rushes to my skin, and I feel more alive. My body and arms, they fill with sensation. It makes up for my legs."

I cherish those thin, fine legs, and when I am inside her, long and slow, I reach back and bring her legs up in my arms. Amelia cannot feel them, but she sees her limbs around my hips and thighs, and they become a part of her again, through her eyes. She sees herself whole, then.

But sometimes, I see her watching me as I walk around her apartment, and I see her eyes darken at my freedom, and the smile falls away from her lips. She does not do it often, this revelation of her injustice. But I see it, nevertheless.

And one day, I go to see her Nawashi.

-- ooo OOO ooo --

Roshi helped me to Amelia's door.

"Will she understand what I'm trying to do here?"

"Yes. I think so. You cannot be permanent, like she is, but Amelia will understand. Yes. She will appreciate the gesture."

I was relying on his wisdom, for he had tied Amelia, and knew his art well, and his canvas.

"Thank you, Roshi san."

I buzzed on the doorbell, and the latch clicked open. Amelia knew I was coming over.

"Alex, what on earth have you done?"

I clumsily levered myself into her apartment, my crutches ungainly and my legs helpless, baggy pants covering my lower limbs.

"I wanted to know what it is like for you, even if it's not real for me, not permanent."

Amelia looked up at me from her wheelchair, which she was using to speed herself around her apartment. She tapped one of her black polished nails to her lush red lips, just once, and raised one of her perfect eyebrows, quizzically. And then she laughed, her beautiful contralto laugh a burst of joy.

"Oh, you gorgeous man, that's so sweet. You fucking idiot! That's just gorgeous."

It was good to know, then, that even if my idea was misguided, Amelia was amused by it. Then she stopped, and her look intensified. She gazed at me, her eyes a myriad of shifting moods flickering in seconds, as she realised what I was doing, and why.

The power shifted in the room, and I gave myself up to her will and her strength. She sat higher in the wheelchair, and became a queen.

"Show me," she commanded, and wheeled her chair back so that she was in the centre of the long hall that lead down to her bedroom. Her movement measured a distance I would have to cross, by myself.

Dropping one crutch to the ground, I leaned my weight on the other and got my balance. I then started to undo the buttons of my shirt.

"Slowly. I want to savour this, like you did the first time I showed you my ropes."

The corners of her mouth were raised in the slightest smile, and her eyes shone with delight. Her hand went to her throat, and she stroked her neck with a single finger. She flicked her hair aside, deliberately showing me the skin of her neck. Amelia undid one of her buttons, and another, and the deep shadow of her cleavage started to emerge.

I too began to undo the buttons on my shirt one by one, and the flesh of my chest was slowly revealed, my bare chest.

"Oh, I'm beginning to see now. Was this Roshi's idea or yours?"

"Mine, but he helped me with the knots, to get them tight."

Amelia settled back into her wheelchair, her fingers an idle trace down the side of her neck, occasionally nudging the top of the next button on her blouse, but her breasts remained hidden.

"Take your shirt off."

She was taking control of the pace of my undressing, and would slow me down from my eagerness. She knew what it was like to be denied, her own body had done that to her every day for many years. So she would be slow, a torture, Tantalus without the rock.

"Show me your legs." Her voice was low, and despite her control, her whisper held the slightest tremble.

Balancing now on the crutch, I untied the cord about my waist, and the loose pants fell down my legs to the floor. Her gaze on me was steady, her eyes a slow drop from my chest to my groin, to my thighs, down to my feet, and back up. She nodded, once.

"He's tied you well, and so tight. Have you any feeling left?"

Roshi's ropes were tied tight around my legs, tying them tightly together from my thighs to my ankles, long looping coils of tightly stranded rope completely covering my skin. At my groin he had twisted finer ropes around the drop of my balls and twice around the base of my penis, which hung heavy and long down the ripple of ropes that was around my thigh.

Tied together as they were, my legs were useless to me, they could not support my weight. Without the crutch, I was helpless, reliant on the strength in my arms to drag myself around. I swayed before Amelia as she sat in her chair across the other side of the room.

"Lower yourself gently to the floor," she said, "and I'll join you."

Her gaze was intense, ah fuck, how she looked at me.

"I love why you have done this for me. It's beautiful. I'm humbled by you. That doesn't happen often, I must say. Proud Mary, me."

By now, the tightness of the ropes was indeed beginning to affect my ability to stand, as my legs and feet were becoming numb and distant. I slid gracelessly down the wall, and managed to lever myself so that I leaned on one arm, half on my back, my tied and useless legs stretched out before me.

I was sprawled on the floor like a floundering merman, my knotted and bound legs as helpless on land as the tail of a fish is on a beach. Unlike a merman, I could not slide back to the sea and escape in the fluidity of water. I was trapped, a landed creature, my arms the only way to move myself around. Unlike Amelia, my arms were not used to the task ahead of me. I really would be crippled.

Amelia though, she was used to the loss of her legs, and her arms had toughened and strengthened over the years since her accident. She was agile and fluid, like a mermaid in water, even when on land.

Sitting in her wheelchair, she sat tall and proud. Her long silken swathe of hair falling down one side of her head, she began to undo further the buttons of her blouse. Her milky cleavage was shown off by an intricately laced bra, the two ripe mounds of her breasts beautifully cupped, and thin straps held taut to her shoulders. She slowly, oh so slowly, undid each pearl button on her blouse, one by one, until the front of the garment was open and swung away from her body.

Her breasts were high and round, her belly flat. Amelia twisted her body to shake first one sleeve from her arm, and then the other. Sitting in her chair she was wearing a black leather skirt, with a long slit up her thigh. On her legs, laced high up to her thighs, she wore a stunning pair of boots, high heels even though she could not walk on them, and a weave of long laces criss-crossed all the way up the front of the boots. And all the way down the back. Amelia was not bound, but she kept her favourite ropes twined around her limbs.

Seeing her lace cupped breasts high and full on that slight torso, my cock started to thicken and rise, and I pulled on the floor to get myself moving towards her. Amelia's eyes widened as she saw both movements.

"Not bound too tight then. That's rather nice, seeing you respond to my undressed breasts like that. I would have wettened between my legs at the idea of it, once upon a time."

Her look was wistful, remembering. But she shook her head, twice, and her eyes tightened, dismissing the thought. Amelia gripped the front of the wheelchair, and using the agile, lithe strength of her arms, lifted the weight of her body from the seat, and shifted herself forward. She slid herself out of the chair onto the floor.

Pushing the chair away from her with one hand, she dragged her leather booted legs behind her as she quickly covered the space between us. Like me, a mermaid without water, a crawling thing.

"You know, A, I'd drag myself over barbed wire to get to you."

She was far more agile than I, and was able to twist and turn herself over my body. I was able to clumsily welcome her to my arms, and wrapped her beauty close. Our lips touched, and she pushed me to my back and lay herself half on me, her legs long beside my tied legs.

The only thing moving below our waists was the thickened rise of my cock, which Amelia took into her hand. Caressing my balls with a slow, gentle movement, she cupped the hot centre of me to the palms of her hands. The only part of us moving below our waists: my cock and her hands. She could feel the heat of me in her hands, and I could feel the gentle caress of her hands over me.

Above our waists, though, our skins were a shiver of response and a rise of goose-bumped flesh, as our fingers lightly caressed each other. I reached behind her, my two hands momentarily deft, and unclipped the hooks of her bra, and that delicate froth of lace fell from her breasts. Amelia shrugged her shoulders forward and the thin straps slid down her arms and away to the floor.

Her peaked nipples were tight and long, and hot under my lips. I sucked the hardness of each nipple into my mouth, swirling the tightness with my tongue. She sighed, and arched her back to push those lush mounds up to the heat of my hunger. My nipples tightened as I pulled and nipped hers between my teeth, tiny tugs, and her nipples were tight and hard.

Amelia pulled my face up to hers, holding both my cheeks in the palms of her hands, a prayer around my face. She looked deep into my eyes, and her eyes were steady and unblinking, her pupils widening but it was not getting darker.

"So, Alex, are you numb like me now, dragging yourself on the hard floor? Can you make it to my room? The bed is so much softer."

She kissed me, hard and long, her tongue a promise. She rolled herself off me, and reached for places along the wall that she could grab and pull herself along, her leather skirt sliding on the tiles. I saw where her hands went, and matched her grab for grab, the rope around my legs sliding easily. She was faster and more agile than I, and by the time I made it to the door of her room, she had already hauled herself onto the bed. She was on her belly, with her arms over the side of the bed, reaching towards me.

"Come on, beautiful man, hurry up. What's the matter, got no legs?"

Her laugh was gentle, and her eyes were bright. She knew I was doing this for her, even if I could not properly articulate it. Amelia appreciated my wish to be like her, for a tiny moment, to experience the difficulty and the difference of her legs. Her ropes would bind me this day, but unlike Amelia, I would walk again.

But Amelia, being Amelia, knew that part of me, however it might be bound, was still working, and she decided that my belly would make a good pillow for her head, her mouth a soft caress for my cock.

"Don't expect me to talk for a while," she said, sliding her tongue and lips around my cock head; and her hands around my balls, a gentle hot cup around their coolness.

Ah God, she was slow and tantalising, urging a long heat into the shaft of me, her mouth a hot wet place, the purple head of my cock a delicacy on her tongue, like some exotic fruit.

I pulled up the soft silk of her hair, and twisted it up to my neck, just as she would twist it in her hands, twice. What, haven't you seen long hair before? Not brightly coloured like yours, Amelia, and her hair was silken smooth against my cheek. The scars on her head were rough under my fingers as I slowly dragged them through her hair and over the curve of her skull.

The tip of my finger was a gentle touch over the lobe of her ear, just as the the tip of her tongue was a gentle probe into the slit at the head of my cock. My finger stroked down the side of her throat, and her nail was a long scratch down the shaft of my heat and two fingers a touch on my balls.

The tip of my finger was a slow swirl over the nub of each bone on her spine, trailing down her back until she could feel no more, and then my fingers were a slow caress back up where her flesh felt mine. My touch was too delicate, and she gasped with the pleasure of it, and my cock felt the sigh of her breath, like the faintest breeze in the sunlight.

Her breath shuddered under my slow hands, and she wanted the taste of my lips on hers, so she twisted her body and fell on mine, her hand still on my cock and her kiss to my lips. We tasted each other slowly, we had so much time. We were both unhurried, but our fingers on our breasts and nipples and throats were slowly forcing a faster pace to our movements. She lay light on top of me.

"I can feel the heat of your cock against my belly. Leave it there, I want to feel the spill of your come on my flesh, my skin is my cunt now."

She was langourous and slow in her movements, but slowly, oh so slowly, she began to move her body, sliding up and down mine. She grasped one arm around my neck, the other gripped a strap at the top of the bed, and she was able to use the strength of her arms to move herself over me. My cock slid between the smooth flesh of her belly and against mine. It was not wet, but oh god, it was soft and smooth, and oh fuck, who needs a cunt when there is warm flesh instead, and she will feel the wet spill of my come. When she is ready.

Amelia was slow and unhurried, and took her pleasure from my body. Her eyes were wide and she held my gaze, and she made love to me with her eyes open, her sight replacing the sensation gone from between her legs. My hands continued to caress her long back, and she arched her back so that my palms could cup her heavy breasts and her hard nipples, press the warm flesh up to her chest. She lay her weight upon me, and slid.

Amelia slid, and my cock was hard and hot against our flesh. My hands were full of hot breasts and the pulling peaks of her nipples. Her breasts were oh so soft, with a blooming flush over the top of her chest and up her neck. Her breath came in shorter gasps.

My breath too was faster, and our bodies twisted against each other, swathing the hot shaft of my cock with hot flesh. She pressed her belly against mine, my shaft between, and the friction was intense. I could feel the heat coiling at the base of my spine, deep in my gut, and as I pulled her mouth to mine for a deep long, thrusting kiss, the spill and spurt of my come pulsed my cock.

"Oh, Christ, the heat of you on my belly, that's wonderful. Come for me, you beautiful man, come on my belly and let me feel your wetness there."

Her belly became her cunt, and the spill of my seed her wetness. We shuddered and thrust together, and with a final twist of her nipples, Amelia shivered in her own pleasure. We came together, my come on our bellies the wetness she did not have between her legs.

Our heat cooled, and we were sticky together as my cock softened. We rolled beside each other, our arms wrapped about. Her soft spill of hair was across my neck like a veil, and her eyes were wide, her lips red. She held her hands to my back, palms flat on my shoulder blades, and I felt the heat of her palms on my back.

Her full breasts were hot between us, and the flush on her neck was a rich blush into her cleavage. I caressed her face with my fingers, and kissed the tip of her nose. She smiled at the affectionate gesture, and we were slow in our afterglow. Our fingers linked together. Amelia.

Then she struggled herself off me, and moved lower onto my belly. She undid the holding knot of the ropes about my legs, and slowly started to untwist and unravel the cords tied tight. As she undid the ropes, a matching series of grooves and depths were revealed on my flesh, and there was a burning redness along the bottom of each groove. The marks of rope were like the scarred gouge along her thigh.

Unlike that scar, however, which was numb, the burn of returning sensation to my limbs brought pain and heat.

"Fuck, that hurts. I didn't know it would hurt that much."

Now I get why she ties herself tight and releases the ropes. It brings heat and sensation to the half of her that feels, to make up for the half that doesn't.

Amelia isn't defined by her accident, but she doesn't let herself forget the pain of it. Neither is she defined by her ropes, but their absence helps her remember. Amelia remembers, she never forgets.

She is relentless with herself. Going down all the way, she has given herself a ladder to climb back into the light. Every time.

Amelia is stronger than me, I know that. I will crawl over barbed wire to reach her. Every time.