The recent rains were brutal on the not-yet-paved roads out to the new lot. While I was really excited about the location, the truck was bouncing around so much that I am having second thoughts about how it is going to be when storms rolled through. I found that if I gunned it over the normal washboard stuff, it smoothed out.
You? You want me to gun it the entire way up the hill. Through the seemingly ocean-sized puddles, over the ravines, down the gullies. It’s like watching you ride a mechanical bull, hands in the air, grinning from ear to ear as I fight the steering and bouncing around.
As we finally get up to the house, the crew has draped it in tarps to keep it from getting completely soaked through – but it is still all about the framing and just really rough finishes. They won’t be back for a couple of days as they need things to dry out a bit before continuing. We are so excited to hear they’re gone, so we gathered up a bunch of food and blankets and headed out for a picnic at the new place – for the first time ever.
We wander around, looking at this and that, poking at ideas for where things will go, smelling the fresh timber, realizing we’d nailed the lot – couldn’t see a single neighbor location, at least until many more homes are built.
We laid out the blanket in the soon-to-be-
We are so relaxed, you stand up, pull me up and kiss me, running your hands down the front of my shirt from my neck until your hand is centered on my chest. And you stop. This grin comes over your face and you just stand there… thinking about whatever it is that has just come to mind.
You slowly increase the pressure on my chest, pushing me until I don’t have a choice but to move. I take a step back, then another. Finally I come to rest between two framing uprights. You look at me, and all I get is a “be right back…don’t move.” You turn and walk to the other corner of the “room” and there is a pile of supplies there, leftover.
You return with a roll of duct tape.
I’d be lying if I said I’d even considered this. You can see it in my expression and nervous laughter too, and you wrap one of my wrists in tape, throw the roll over a rafter, pull my hands over my head and wrap the other wrist. I actually think you are kidding – so I don’t even think to make it difficult (although, let’s face it, that doesn’t usually end well).
You spin me in place, now facing the “wall” and run a big loop of tape around my waist, attaching me to the uprights, pinning me to the wall, hands over my head. You pull my shirt up over my head and bunch it, then tape it shut. While I still have legs to move around, my arms, my movement is severely constrained. And now I can’t see anything but the remotest lights and shadows.
I hear you do this almost snide snicker. You’re mocking me a bit. You drop my pants, but only to my ankles, pretty effectively tying my legs together. Another strap of tape around my lower legs and, well, I’m done.
I can feel the breeze in places that aren’t usually out in the wind, and all of a sudden my ears are straining to hear the slightest indication of company coming. I’m also hard as a rock, and there’s no hiding it with everything immobilized.
I feel you grab me, squeeze hard, and snicker again, letting go.
I feel you fumbling around my ankles, and I realize you’re pulling on the pants. Then I realize why. You’re pulling my belt. I’m a little slow with these things, but the understanding washes through me and I test the bindings, but of course… it’s duct tape. It’s not going anywhere.
After I stop moving around, it’s just quiet. I can’t see or hear anything, and I can’t even tell if you’re still there. Of course I know you are, you’re messing with me. Letting me get all up in my head. It’s working, and well.
Maybe you’re not really planning what I think you are with that belt. Maybe you just needed to tie something down. Maybe you just wanted to use it to hold me some more. Maybe…
Totally involuntary out of me, that last one is. I was so caught up in my head. I hadn’t settled in, or braced, or relaxed or… anything really. I was just there and the instant realization of the noise and what follows was over the top.
Before I can even catch my breath, 2, 3, 4 then 5 smacks. You’re obviously changing sides, distance from me, energy, all of that. Looking for just the right angles. I start to hear myself, but it’s delayed, it’s bouncing off the hill and back before I hear it. I’m trying my best to stifle and control, but the impacts are sharp. stinging and
You stop, and I feel you tracing your marks on me with the tip of your finger. I imagine you have that grin in full view – that you’re really enjoying your handiwork. I can feel the heat rushing to the welts, rushing to my skin and I feel the sweat already starting to climb my back.
6, 7, 8, 9, 10 – it seems like they come out of nowhere. Each harder than the last, alternating sides, only slightly different locations on me. The stings and connections are feeling like needles plunging in, then pulling out immediately. You’re settling into a rhythm, and I find myself looking to try to not panic. But so few having happened before you turned up the intensity, I just haven’t had the time to get that calmer headspace.
More smacks. I’m moving against the framing, the tape, my pants. I’m afraid to move, at the same time desperate to move. Your aim is dead-on. Your intensity is increasing each time and I am getting scared a bit about the whole thing.
Then you reach around, grab me again, squeeze me even harder and whisper in my ear “well… That’s even better now!”
You pull my shirt loose, down over my chest and kiss me deeply. As you pull away you nibble on my lip, my ear, my neck, then walk over and sit down at our picnic, pouring yourself a glass a wine and grinning.