“You’ll get to come,” I tell her, unable to keep the wicked glee out of my voice.
Josephine opens her eyes wide, lifting her head to look at me. “But…?”
“Baby, you’ll see. Give me your right hand.”
It takes no time to place a single-column tie around her right wrist with the paracord. I wrap carefully to make sure it won’t tighten and cut off her circulation when she tugs on it—because I plan to make her tug on it enthusiastically and with desperation.
Then I guide her hand toward her clit. Josephine tries to close the distance all the way, but I stop her just short. “Stay there and don’t move.”
She moans a protest, but I’m already finishing the tie, running the paracord from her wrist up to the barbell attached to her right nipple. The cord is thin enough that I can loop it around the balls at either side of the barbell and trust it to stay in place.
Josephine gasps, and I think she’s figured out what I’m going to have her do.
I tug gently to test my handiwork, then pull my hands back. “Okay, sweetie. Now you can touch your clit.”
Her eagerness to obey belies the whining sound she makes. Josephine extends her hand toward her clit, and the gesture pulls the paracord taut, just as I intended it to. She can’t reach her clit without pulling the barbell attached to her nipple.
I watch in fascination as she experiments, learning the limits of the tie. I can see by her winces and gasps that rubbing her clit requires stretching her nipple far enough to hurt, but the fervor of her continued attempts make it equally clear that the pain is stoking her arousal.