At the top of the stairs was a half open door and I couldn’t resist a peak inside, it was the master bedroom which again didn’t disappoint. There was a huge four-poster bed and mirrored wardrobes running the length of one wall, stylish and kinky – I was impressed! I thought of them together messing up the sheets and began wondering what exactly Mike was packing in those shorts. I didn’t want to get caught being nosey so I headed off to the bathroom which again was gorgeous with a sunken bath and huge rainforest style shower. I sat on the toilet and pictured them both in here naked and wondered how many times they had fucked in the bath. As I leaned over for a closer look I accidentally spilt my glass of wine all over the floor. I looked around for the loo roll to clean up and now clumsily bumped against the laundry basket by the side of the toilet knocking off the lid. After 3 glasses of wine I become a bit of a klutz but also mischievous and horny and I couldn’t resist a peak. She was now naked looking down. I waited for her to look up or ask what I wanted her to do now, but she was too well-trained by now to consider anything so distrustful. I got a rope from my backpack which I always took with me on these occassions. Not a rope, actually, but a cord used for washing lines. I love the look of the whiteness of the cord against her flesh. I stood in front of her with the cord. She put her wrists out, still looking down. I tied the cord around one wrist, knotted it, then tied the other wrist to it. That’s the best way to tie slave’s hands. My breath was heavy now. The combination of eroticism, the power rush, the expectation of what was to come, the feeling of my erection fighting against my clothes, had all combined into one great rush. Under the swing frame, there were to hard plastic milk crates. They were dark in the night light. I instructed her to stand on top of each. It would have hurt a little, because the lattice work of the crates was.
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