Blind Reflections

Perhaps the greatest health and wellness benefit to being a ****, or a short term prisoner as you like to think of your current situation, is it really gives a person time to think. Too much time in your opinion, which is one of the many reasons you prefer to be on top, but here you are. You began your ruminations just thinking about nothing. Maybe your brain is just recovering from the intensity of your subjugation, but it just shuts off for a while.

Eventually though, the old grey cells start kicking around and you are **** to reflect on your situation. Buck ass naked on a hostile world, tied to a tree with your pussy strung up like a turkey, and the object of your desires blocked from your very sight. Admittedly it’s not ideal but it’s been worse. With a little time and imagination you could even recall some of these hypothetical situations.

Why, there was that time on Ortega III, when you were trying to infiltrate the Merub Gangs operation. What was it? Three weeks locked in a dungeon? Four? They had this cute little rack that **** their bitches doggy style with their hands cuffed at their neck so your elbows took all the weight. There was this neat built-in auto whip for your tits that triggered whenever someone pounded your ass. Sigh. Good times. It had been so fun when you broke cover, and trapped the entire gang in their own dungeon one by one. The time spent in captivity wasn't half bad either. Whatever happened to those guys anyways? Once you turned them over to their rivals, the former gang bangers probably got pimped out as **** prostitutes.

You didn't care at the time. The well earned bonus for a job well done had been enough to rent an orgy's worth of sex slaves. Spending a few days at the luxury dungeon resort on the ocean world of Malcra tormenting the local scantily clad and very eager submissive island girls made you completely forget about the Merub. Lying in the sun, a tanned and nude islander hammock tied between two palm trees, a cold drink served in a tobo melon resting on her back, the anticipation of offering her to the planets tentacle anemones if she allowed it to spill, and the certainty that she would. Funny the things you remember when your mind wanders.

Shit. Thinking about all those kinky times is just making you wet. With the limited leverage available you try and grind your clit against the crotch rope. There is just enough wiggle room to get some pleasant rubbing, but not enough to do more than tease. It’s almost as if Bellextra was some sort of sadistic bitch with a deep understanding of the hidden wants and needs of the submissive nature, and the best ways to exploit said desires. Funny that.

After five frustrating minutes spent trying to rub one out, you decide the best thing for your sanity is to focus on other things. Still blinded by the hood, you adopt a meditative and holistic approach to your captivity and focus on your sensations. Because you really don’t have anything better to do. There is the dull ache in your shoulders and your thighs, constantly being pulled apart, forcing you to bear your needy cunt. Unsatisfied arousal lurks within your pussy waiting to break free of its cruel confinement. The whip marks form leylines of power across your tormented body, forming an intricate pattern of pain, submission, and pleasure. Contrasting pleasantly with the savage **** on the nerves is the gentle caress of nature. The cool rain kisses your tortured skin, as if trying to soothe the pain, and the muggy air wraps around you like a blanket. You take a deep breath of air, trying to take in your environment. The air is fresh and clean in a way someone like you who spent her life in cities and ships just can’t wrap her head around. As your lungs expand, your heart races a little bit reminding you what those spores do. And your back to rubbing the crotch rope.

You gotta get out of here.

A few quick tugs on the rope reveal what you already suspected. Bellextra is really good with her ropework. There is almost no slack and the knots are where you can’t reach them. You could probably get out of here, given enough time. Unfortunately in this scenario, enough time would allow Bellextra to search that cruiser from top to bottom 3 times over. Given the air here once you finally got free, you would no doubt immediately seek her out and beg for a collar so long as her cock came with it. You hang your head in defeat.

Deep inside you, your inner Goddess awakens. No, no, no, no. This is not you. You are Natalia Demsys and you got shit to do! Suck it up butter cup it is time to get moving!

Carefully and deliberately you shift your weight, tugging back and forth. A little bit to the left, a little to the right. The trick was to constantly shift the tension in the ropes, slowly working on them. You can feel the most incremental progress. It's just enough to give you hope. More. On you go, continuously pulling, wiggling, and yes outright fighting to reach your goal. Closer, closer. As progress builds your movements take on a renewed vigor. Gone is the despair, replaced with grit and certainty in your cause. Faster and faster you work until finally...

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, YESSSSSSSSS!!!!" You finally manage to rub one out against the crotch rope. It's not the best orgasm you've ever had. Crotch ropes make poor sex toys; its why you put them on horny sex slaves. But it was what you needed. Your head is clear and you are ready for anything. You got this.

Five minutes later, you give up again. Bellextra is really fucking good at this. She's going to make a great domme. Sigh. At least the pirates didn't catch you.