In case you've missed me talking about it on every form of social media possible: Diary of a Rope Slut is now available in print and e-book! Buy your copy of my sexy memoir today on Amazon or (preferred method) contact me for a signed and pre-fondled copy delivered straight to your filthy little fingers. If you order from directly from me, the profits go towards supporting a poor starving rope slut instead of a big corporate distributor.
Either way, I hope you choose to purchase it and enjoy!
In the mean time, here's another deleted scene from the book for your amusement. Here my then-partner, the lovable but vanilla Priest, and my FWB, the Sergeant, gang up on me for some silly and sadistic rope play...
It shouldn’t have surprised me too much to be at a rope gathering without a date only to have The Priest and The Sergeant walk in together. But even as an ethically non-monogamous sort I always got nervous when two of the people I’m sleeping with spent time together. Either because I had the unreasonable notion that they had just finished talking about me and comparing notes about how weird I am, which I logically knew they weren’t doing. I was probably the least interesting thing they had in common. Or because I knew I’m about to be in trouble. This evening was a matter of the latter.
The Priest had my rope bag and the Sergeant had his own bag of tricks, which I understood nothing good could come from. He was a creative sadist so I never knew what he would have in mind but I knew it would be strange and cause me to pretend to hate him for the hours during which is was occurring.
I looked at them with a mix of excitement and dread as they approached where I was talking to a friend.
“Are you busy?” The Priest said looking down at me.
“No?” I ask as if it was a question, so unaccustomed to The Priest being at sexy events, let alone taking the lead, that I was flabbergasted. “What do you have in mind?” Both of them smiled at me wickedly.
What the hell, I thought and stood to follow them. “Okay, let’s do this. Whatever ‘this’ is.” The Sergeant took rubber bands and chop sticks out of his bag with a flourish and an evil grin. Shit, I’m in trouble.
They guided me to an empty quiet corner and began plotting out loud in a guy code that betrayed that they had been talking this moment on the drive over.
“Do you want to do the thing or should I?”
“You do it, you live with her after all, it seems polite.”
“Well I wanted to give you the opportunity since you don’t get to torment her all the time.”
“No, no I insist.” The Sergeant handed something to The Priest behind their backs. I had no idea what they were up to so I sat down to wait out their comedy routine. My heart raced as much in anticipation as in annoyance. They both thought they were funny, I just wanted to get tied up.
“Ready?” The Priest asked turning his attention to me.
“Never been more ready?” I tried.
“Good, let me see your wrists.” The Priest grasps my outstretched hands in front of me to clumsily bind them together with a piece of purple rope. With another rope he tied my ankles together as I sat cross legged. He then tied the two ropes together, yanking my torso forward so that I was bent at the waist, my head bowed to my feet like in a kinky version of the lotus position.
“Can you get away?” asked the Sergeant while giving me a smile that was all predatory teeth. The Priest moved to the side while The Sergeant took a turn moving to stand closer to me. Squirming a bit to test the ropes, I replied with a shake of my head.
“Good. Now stick out your tongue.”
I delayed as long as possible, looking at him with disbelief knowing that no good could come from following this order. When they both glared at me, I had no choice but to put out my tongue tentatively. Their fierce looks got less forgiving so I begrudgingly stuck it out further.
The Sergeant in his tight jeans and biker boots made a careful show of kneeling down so that I could watch him wrap a rubber band around one end of two chop sticks. He grabbed my tongue sharply between his thumb and forefinger so that I couldn’t take it away. One chop stick went above my tongue and the other below; he then wrapped a second rubber band on the loose side of the sticks and made a very effective gag.
Almost instantly I started drooling. Not just a little, enough that it was dribbling down my chin. I glared up at the two of them but couldn’t have been at all intimidating while slobbering down the front of myself. If I tried to retract my tongue the chop sticks hit the sides of my cheeks and prevented it. It didn’t hurt but it was quite the humiliating predicament.
They watched, laughing as I tried to not let the puddle of drool I was making hit the floor. It seemed rude to leave such a mess for the host. Luckily I found that I could move my hands enough to put them in front of me to form a cup and catch my saliva. By the end of the scene I will have caught enough drool to fill my hands, a notion I was so disgusted by that it only served to amuse the men in my life endlessly while they did very little to help me out with that predicament.
“Good girl.” The Sergeant said in the most condescending of tones when he noticed my attempt at humility. “Now here’s your reward.”
He handed The Priest a couple rubber bands, keeping several of different sizes for himself. Crouching, they moved to either side of me and began hitting the tender areas of my thighs and back with the taunt stretched rubber. Taking turns doling out that sharp unforgiving pain, they watched me squirm to escape the sting of one’s rubber band only to conveniently angle myself closer to the next snap from the other of my two tormenters.
The smack, smack, half muffled scream of our play quickly got the attention of the rest of the room. Everyone seemed to be watching as the two men in my life tortured me. This was more attention than I was accustomed to at the time. After each assault of the rubber stinging into my flesh, I would respond by giggling uncontrollably. This would release a new cascade of drool down the front of my chin and chest that would eventually come to rest in my cupped hands which was even more embarrassing now that people were looking on.
The men continued to find new sensitive places to snap the rubber bands to get the greatest reaction, watching me struggle. I was barely tied up but unable to get away since wiggling in one direction would bring me closer to the other. At any given time I had to choose who I wanted to give better access.
It was surprising to me to see The Priest enjoying himself so much, mirroring the sadistic expression of the Sergeant. Usually he was sweet and mild mannered. Dressed like a suburban soccer dad, he didn’t look likely to be caught at a fetish party let alone partaking.
After the first couple of thwacks to my flesh were met with laughter, he seemed to relax and get into the game. I could see the pieces falling into place in his head as he perhaps realized for the first time how and why I got pleasure from pain. He’d seen me tied up many times before but until now had declined to participate in my masochism. It wasn’t a moment I was expecting from attending this event.
Eventually the two of them ran out of places to torment. They put the rubber bands away and untied me, each of them taking responsibility for a rope to untangle until I was free, but still gagged. I was so loopy it didn’t occur to me I could free my own tongue. I waited patiently until The Sergeant removed the gag, chuckling and far too happy with himself.
I took turns snuggling up to each of them, starting with The Priest. Snuggling up to his chest, hoping to positively reinforce the experience, I murmured, “Thank you.”
After these brief kinky interludes I would hope The Priest’s taste for the perverted and ropey would stick around. To my increasing frustration however, as quickly as his urge would appear, the Priest would go back to being my sweet, vanilla boyfriend. He was always more interested in leading church services while I went off to get tied up by strangers. That was never going to change.
The Sergeant however got more and more deliciously deviant each time we met.
