sirdragondomain: The rope rests on the obedient body. Presses into it. Glides teasing with its textu
sirdragondomain: The rope rests on the obedient body. Presses into it. Glides teasing with its texture. The smell of heated jute fiber excites. Two. She looks at her hands. The look is clouded with desire and admiration. With your hands, how the previously immovable matter comes to life, how it twists and braids the body, depriving it of movement, control, and will.Hands weave their webs. A web of care and tenderness.The beauty of the net that has caught the soul cannot be appreciated with the eyes…SD -- source link