Inviting Suspensions: Ivy

Ivy's wrists are wrapped tight in rope and hauled high until her feet leave the floor. Her body swings, a slow pendulum, while her jaw stays spread open by the thick ball gag. Every breath she takes forces a wet sound past the rubber. A single rope snakes around her hips, loops up between her thighs, and splits her open; each shift of her weight grinds that knot harder against her clit. A gloved hand slaps across her ass, first one cheek, then the other, until the skin flushes dark and the ropes creak with the jerk of her hips. Another rope lowers just enough for her toes to touch the floor, but she’s still stretched, still helpless. The same hand grabs a fistful of her hair, pulls her head back, and the next strike lands across the backs of her thighs. She moans, drool sliding down her chin, and the rope between her legs is tugged tighter. The tension holds her suspended between pain and want, swaying.