Her Rope

Her rope is tight around my chest,
Embracing me with her love.
Her rope is wound around my cock,
Enforcing my erection.
Her rope is wrapped around my wrists,
Restricting my movement.
Her rope is knotted in my hair,
Controlling my thoughts.

I am bound to her,
Bound by her power,
Bound by her beauty.

She tightens the rope with a tug,
Pulling me into her will.
She loosens the rope with a touch,
Letting me relax into her embrace.
She twists the rope with a flick,
Sending shivers down my spine.
She cuts the rope with a knife,
Setting me free to serve.

I am hers to command,
Hers to pleasure,
Hers to please.

With each knot, she binds us closer together.
With each tug, she strengthens our connection.
With each touch, she deepens our love.
With each cut, she renews our bond.

I am bound to her will,
Bound by her desires,
Bound by her love.

And as I submit to her ropes and commands,
I find freedom in my submission.
For in being bound, I am set free
To be who I truly am –
Hers.

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