Change of season

Undecorating the tree always felt a little sad: the end of a season of parties and celebrations, months of grey winter ahead.

So they made it a little festive, with peppy music and fizzy wine to accompany the chore. They talked while they worked, danced a little, kissed when they bumped.

The last of the ornaments were stowed in their cartons, and only the garlands and lights remained. He pulled a long string of multi-colored beads off the tree, and looped them over her neck. “I should decorate you,” he announced with a smile.

He looped the beads around her twice, then pulled another string off the tree and wrapped them around her shoulders and torso. She twirled and giggled, happy with his hands on her body. Another strand followed, and another.

“I can’t move,” she laughed. “You’ve tied me up like a… a captive princess.”

A sly grin appeared on his face. “You can’t move?”

“Not a bit.”

He reached up under her skirt and pulled her panties down to her ankles, ignoring her squeal of mock outrage. Around the panties he wrapped a string of gold and silver stars. Hobbled, she let herself be pushed, hop by hop, to the couch, where with a final shove he tumbled her onto her back. He grabbed the stars and pulled, bending her double; if she struggled, the points bit gently through her panties. Her breathing deepened and her eyes grew wide. Playtime was changing.

He stroked her with his free hand from clit to asshole, spreading her glistening honey, and planned what he might do with his captive princess.

And then he told her, in explicit detail, what he had decided.

— Frenulum