Just one more thing.

This week’s prompt for Wicked Wednesday is: If I was taking an erotic photograph of you, I would ask you to… and it made me think of this shoot with angel and our mutual friend where one or the other of us all wanted to try just one more thing.

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“It will be fun” he said as he took my hand, encouraging me from the bed.

“You won’t need to get dressed, just stay as you are.” Down the stairs we went, peering through sleepy eyes and feeling the cold blast of fresh morning air as he excitedly bundled me to through door. Camera bag slung over his shoulder, wonky smile caressing his lips and two thermal mugs of tea in the hand not holding mine, he’d left the car engine running when he came to rouse me. “Just get in, you’ll love it once we’re there.”

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as we crested a hill and he pulled in to a neglected gateway.

The view was beyond beautiful, and we sat for a moment. Still chilly in my long nightie and bare feet I was surprised when he hopped out of the car and ran round to open my door. “No… No, no, no, no NO!!!” But there was no dissuading him, and I reluctantly stepped from the car, again taking his hand and allowing him to lead me through a gate, under some dense bushes and up a muddy bank until… In front of me there was a derelict cottage, entirely invisible from the road. Bathed in the glow of the rising sun we sat together on the doorstep and watched the day start to unfold before us, I barely noticed the chill air, safe with his arm wrapped around my shoulders and a mug of tea in my hands.

“One more thing and then we can go back to the car.” He stood up, retrieved his camera bag. “I want you to see inside.” With that he was off, and I was left to follow him through the detritus of the rooms, scattered with the clutter of a life well lived. Stopping in the kitchen I was distracted by the cans and bottles, left on the shelves for nature to retrieve. The use by dates had long since expired.

So absorbed I didn’t register him taking my hands behind my back, binding me, restricting me.

As he rounded me I was lifted into position under a beam covered in dusty tea towels. Kissing my neck I melted as he attached the upline to my bindings. Looking me up and down I realised he thought something was missing. Stroking my legs he lifted my nightie up and away, next taking a rusty blade from the table. He sliced the flimsy cotton fabric. As soon as he had free access he gently lifted my knee as he bound it to the beam as well. All the while those dark eyes held mine. “Higher?” The question fell from his lips though he clearly didn’t require an answer. My planted foot and the beam quickly took up the strain. Next my hair was tied, that tightness on my scalp intensifying the arousal spreading through me.

“One more thing…” his eyes lower now, and I noticed the blade again.

Fear rising, I flushed as he grabbed the cloth covering my breasts. I managed to breathe as I realised he just wanted me exposed. Milky white breasts on show. Whispering that I was his “ethereal beauty” he turned to leave, looking over his shoulder with a smirk (no,THAT smirk) on his lips and humour in his eyes. “Don’t go anywhere” and I heard his footsteps echo through the building.

In my rope bubble I was daydreaming about the lives that had been lived in this home. The peaceful meanderings of a busy brain which has been bound and set free. It was then I noticed he’d come back, how did he manage to slip in so quietly? What gave him away wasn’t his footsteps on the crunchy floor. No, it was the sound of his camera, the focus whizzing in the low light. Was it nearly time for breakfast I wondered as my gaze met his through the lens.

“Just one more thing…” He placed the camera down, lips meeting mine and his hand reached for the soft white flesh of my thighs…

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Just One More Thing is part of my offering for February Photo Fest 2019, and Wicked Wednesday.