(To read Chain Of Rules Act I)
Some people keep bed linens or boxes of old photos in the built-ins of their bedroom. I keep lengths of chromed, stainless steel chain.
That’s not bullshit. I can get out of my side of our king sized bed, take six or seven steps maximum, open a drawer and have over ten feet of the sexiest chain you’ve ever seen, of various premeasured lengths, in my hands immediately.
Chain is fucking sexy. Its cold, impersonal, almost serpentine in the way it slithers and coils. Think about it. How many times have you seen a black leather garment, like a coat or jacket for example, with white nylon rope used to accent it?
I thought so.
Leigh despises its chill to the point of my using it as a temperature toy is actually a mild hard limit. That’s not to say that accidents happen. I’ll gladly trade a “My apologies” for the shriek and lighting bolt that courses through her body when its icy, coiled links wrap around exposed flesh, um, unintentionally.
The aspect of chain I enjoy the most is that sound. Rope is, for the most part, a silent partner. But chain speaks its mind. It sings the most beautifully sexy song. It lets you know it’s there every fucking time you move, squirm, twist or pull against its steel. I especially love that slthcnhk slthchnk slthcnhk the links make when they collide or collapse, or that tunggg when they are pulled taut.
Especially when the pulling is being done by a nude Leigh. She knows these sounds by heart. That’s part of the fun, to watch and listen to her as the chains sing their siren song, beckoning her to The Closet™.
The Closet™. Where we play with chains and cuffs and collars, oh my.
It’s not a closet as most of you know. Well, at one time it was a helluva closet, complete with sliding doors and built-ins. When we bought the house Leigh, in her zeitgeist to alter its appearance as much as humanly possible (please don’t get me started) decided to remove the heavy wooden sliding doors and make it a walk-in. She was correct in her assumption that it would make the room look larger than it actually is. Some reproduction vintage wallpaper and a new hardwood floor really helped the illusion.
Oh, our bedroom? The room? THE Room where I become her Sir and Leigh my doll? A whopping 12″ x 14″ with a king sized bed. Don’t tell me you don’t have the space to be kinky! So yeah, removing the doors helped. A lot.
It’s now Leigh’s semi-private vanity, with a Mission oak dresser to keep her pretties in and on, as well as house all the sex toys in The Drawer™ (top one). Curtains adorn each side. They’re primarily for decoration. We never draw them open when others are around.
Because if we did the 3″ long steel eye hooks acting as curtain ties would be much more obvious. As would the other three countersunk and completely out of view within the railings of the sliding door’s tracks. One is dead center, the others at two and ten o’ clock, respectively. So if your arms were directly over your head, or raised to either side as if you were making the Y to the Village People song, there would be an eye hook very near where your hands could be.
I’ll pause for second to allow that last paragraph to register with your inner pervert.
These eye hooks will easily take the body weight of a redhead. I’ll have to assume other hair colors would be as equally restrained, but in that I have no fucking desire to chain anyone except my Leigh that hypothesis will just have to go unchecked.
The piece de resistance is a body length mirror in an ornate frame hanging on the back wall. Again, a very practical piece of antique furniture. Leigh uses it every morning when she gets dressed. But it also allows me to enjoy multiple views of her suspended flesh when we play.
Which is why I led her into the bedroom, closed the door and motioned for her to stand where the doors of the closet once stood while I lit the candles. She was not just directly in front of the mirror, but also underneath those hidden eye hooks above and parallel to the ones on either side of her nude, collared and cuffed form.
Grabbing a two-ended steel fastener (like one might see or use on a dog lead or leash) I clicked it into place directly above her head.
slthcnhk slthchnk slthcnhk
Her face tensed. The steel sirens in the closet had started to sing.
“The usual safe words?” I asked. I always ask.
“Yes..” she replied.
I glared at her. Through her.
“Yes Sir.” she re-offered.
Taking her right hand I raised it above her head. With a single click its inner ring (each cuff has two) was secured in the grip of the suspended fastener. The same was repeated with her left arm.
And just like that she was helplessly bound with her arms stretched taut above her head. Took me not even fifteen seconds. For all intents and purposes (heh) she was defenseless, completely vulnerable to my whims, desires and perversions.
I made sure each wrist cuff was aligned and rotated correctly.
“Feel OK?” I asked.
All that remained was to secure my access to the treasure between her thighs.
“Spread your legs, please” I said, more an order than a request.
With a shuffled gait and a look of resignation she opened them.
“Wider, please” was my response. I like to be courteous in that I feel its proper to show some respect, but also it makes what she knows she has to do feel like its her decision. Picking her own poison. Others may scoff at such pleasantries, but I personally love watching her drink every drop of what she pours herself as a result.
With her feet now almost three feet apart I procured four more steel fasteners, one for each side eye hook and ankle cuff. Making sure to attach them to the outer rings of the cuffs, Leigh was now just two lengths of chain away from being completely bound spread eagle while standing.
This is where chain really has an advantage over rope. I can adjust how much tension or slack each length gets with a simple unclick click. For aesthetics and her safety I attached an end link to each ankle cuff first. This way any slack would be out of eyeshot and not underfoot.
Now stretch that one chain tight. Click. Repeat on…the….other….leg. Click.
She could spread her legs wider if she wanted, but there was no way in fuck she could draw them any closer than they were now.
I smiled at her defenseless, bound and chained form. She looked radiant in the candlelight.
Our eyes met right before our tongues did, only I didn’t close mine. I wanted to drink in the sight of her chained and spread ass in the mirror. With my lips satisfied, I broke the kiss and prepared to break her. But not with cruelty. Not yet, at least.
Now it was time to drive her stark raving mad with the most agonizing, gentle pleasure I could deliver. And as slow as fuck.