I discovered that me and my office friend shared the same kink with Shibari and did something about it. [story]

I stand in the center, my eyes locked on her as she kneels before me, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her hands are already bound behind her back, the ropes a deep crimson against her pale skin. She looks up at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement, and I can see the pulse beating rapidly in her throat.

"Please," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I want to feel it."

I smile, a slow, predatory grin that sends a shiver down her spine. "You will," I promise, my voice low and commanding. "But first, you must earn it."

I reach out, my fingers brushing against the soft flesh of her shoulder. She shudders under my touch, her body arching slightly towards me. I take hold of the rope, feeling its rough texture beneath my fingertips, and begin to weave it around her, each movement deliberate, each knot precise. The shibari technique is an art form, one that requires patience and skill, and I am a master of my craft.

I start at her shoulders, the rope sliding smoothly over her skin as I bind her arms tightly to her sides. She whimpers softly, her body tensing as the rope bites into her flesh, but she does not pull away. Instead, she watches me with those wide, pleading eyes, her lips parted in anticipation. I continue down, looping the rope around her torso, cinching it tight just below her breasts, then again above them. The effect is immediate; her chest heaves with each breath, her nipples hardening into tight peaks that strain against the fabric of her shirt.

"Good girl," I murmur, my voice a soothing caress. "Just like that."

I move lower, the rope tracing a path down her abdomen, pulling her hips forward and accentuating the curve of her waist. She gasps, her body trembling as the rope tightens, constricting her movements and leaving her completely at my mercy. I pause for a moment, savoring the sight of her, the way she looks so vulnerable, so utterly helpless. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I bring the rope between her legs, pressing it gently against her most sensitive spot.

She cries out, her body jerking involuntarily as the sensation shoots through her. I tighten the rope just enough to keep the pressure constant, but not so much that it causes her pain. She moans, her head falling back as she struggles to maintain control, but it's no use. With every breath, the rope rubs against her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," she begs, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Please, I can't take it anymore."

I smile again, this time with satisfaction. "Patience," I tell her, my voice firm. "You haven't earned it yet."

With that, I step back, admiring my handiwork. She is bound tightly, her body a perfect blend of tension and surrender. The ropes crisscross her skin in intricate patterns, each knot a testament to my skill. She is beautiful, a living work of art, and I am the artist who has created her.

I reach down, taking hold of the chair that sits next to us. It's an old wooden chair, sturdy and solid, with high armrests and a back that curves inward. I place it in front of her, positioning it so that she can see it clearly. Then, I step behind her, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders as I guide her to her feet.

"Sit," I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeys, her movements awkward and uncoordinated as she lowers herself onto the chair. The ropes restrict her movements, making it difficult for her to find a comfortable position, but she manages to sit down, her legs spread wide and her back straight. I watch her for a moment, ensuring that she is properly seated, then I step around to face her.

"Good," I say, my voice approving. "Now, let's see how well you can handle this."

She whimpers, her body trembling as the sensations overwhelm her. I can see the struggle written across her face, the way she fights to maintain control, but it's a losing battle. The ropes have taken away her ability to resist, leaving her at my mercy, and I intend to make full use of it.

I step back, my eyes scanning her body, looking for the next point of vulnerability. My gaze settles on her breasts, still straining against the fabric of her shirt. With a quick, decisive motion, I reach out, my fingers curling around the hem of her shirt and pulling it up, exposing her to the cool air. She gasps, her body shivering as the fabric is removed, leaving her breasts bare and vulnerable.

I take a moment to admire the sight, my eyes tracing the curve of her breasts, the way they rise and fall with each breath. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I reach out, my fingers brushing against one of her nipples. She cries out, her body arching towards me as the sensation shoots through her. I repeat the motion, this time with more force, pinching the nipple between my thumb and forefinger and twisting it slightly.

She screams, her body convulsing as the pain and pleasure mix together, sending waves of sensation through her. I release her nipple, letting it snap back into place, and move to the other breast, repeating the process. Each time, her reactions become more intense, her body writhing against the restraints as she struggles to escape the overwhelming sensations.

"Please," she begs, her voice hoarse with desperation. "Please, I can't take it anymore."

I smile, my eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Patience," I tell her, my voice calm and soothing. "You haven't earned it yet."

With that, I step back, my eyes scanning her body once more. My gaze settles on her thighs, the muscles tense and trembling with the effort of holding still. I reach down, taking hold of the rope that binds her ankles. With a quick, practiced motion, I pull it tighter, forcing her legs apart even further. She gasps, her body jerking as the pressure increases, but she does not resist. Instead, she watches me with those wide, pleading eyes, her lips parted in anticipation.

"Do you like that?" I ask, my voice teasing. "Feeling so exposed, so completely at my mercy?"

She nods, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Yes," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I do."

"Excellent," I reply, satisfaction coloring my tone. "Because there's more where that came from."

I reach down, taking hold of the rope that runs between her legs. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pull it tighter, the pressure increasing until she cries out, her body jerking against the restraints. I lean in close, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, "Feel that? That's just the beginning."

[Part 2? let me know.](https://www.redquill.net/story/65yt0h-shibari-masters-tightrope-seduction)