Tan Lines
by Jo

"I, uh, have kind of an odd request."


"Yeah. I, uh, I'm going on holiday in a few weeks and ..."

"And you want to get a start on your tan."

"Yeah. But I, uh, it has to do with tan lines ..."

"No problem. Many of my clients tan in the nude."

"No. No, it's not that. Well, it is, kind of."

She chases an errant hair from her forehead.

"We're kind of kinky and I want to surprise my boyfriend. He'll be out of town until then. In fact, we'll meet at the airport in Miami. Anyway, it's, uh, it has to do with bondage. Ropes?"


Be still, my quaking heart.

According to her ID her name is Virginia, though she introduced herself as Ginny. The picture didn't do her justice. Do they ever? She's a redhead with frizzy curls framing her face. She has kind of pudgy cheeks, a not over-large nose, full lips, doe eyes. The whole effect is a feeling of softness. She even speaks in a whisper.

"Yeah. It's nothing outrageous, really. I want to wear a rope dress so it'll leave tan lines."

"Rope dress?"

"Yeah, it's kind of like a net, but with rope."

I know what a rope dress is, tied a lot of them, all of them on girls, but never on a girl as cute a Ginny.

I'm not a lesbian, but I like to touch girls. I've never had sex with a girl, but I have a "special" friend. We're always touching. If we're talking we're always reaching out to pat each other. We lotion each other when sunbathing. We kiss. Not often, but we do. The last time we were sitting on the couch sharing a book, one of those trashy romances we're both addicted to. I had my arm around her and she was nestled up against me. I kissed her hair and she raised her head and we kissed. Four times. It's always four times. Two chaste kisses, one long one with a bit of tongue, but just a bit, then one last kiss. I tell her I love her and she replies in kind. I give her shoulders a squeeze. That's about it.

Ginny isn't the oddest client I've had. At least I understand her logic. But Clara, well, that was just plain weird.

She asked me to lotion her back, which is not so weird. Some clients use their own lotion, though I wish they wouldn't. Clean up, you understand. And with the bulb adjustments and timer there's no need for lotion. Not really. Well, except for the moisturizer I sell. Anyway, Clara stripped and put on a black bikini. She's about my age, maybe a bit older. Thirty-something. She has a model's body and the face to match and I wondered if this bizarre behavior was for a shoot. She never said. I didn't ask. I just lotioned her back. I did a double take at the tube - SPF 60. Huh? But when I finished lotioning her she doffed the bikini and settled herself on the bed.

Each session her breasts and butt became darker and darker. Like I said, I never asked, but it was probably the weirdest request I've had. Kind of a reverse tan, like a photo negative.

Ginny described how a rope dress was tied and I nodded and said uh huh a lot.

"Will there be an extra charge?"

Now, if I thought she was here to get her kicks I'd say yes. I'm a dominatrix. I specialize in girl-girl scenes. But, truth be told, I honestly enjoy it. The fact I get paid for it is a bonus. My husband and I are into kink. One scene years ago was with a girl. I'd never done a girl before. Usually I was on the receiving end. But I'm topping this girl and I'm getting off on it. She was all, "Yes, Mistress" and "No, Mistress" and I'm flogging her and she's saying, "Thank you, Mistress" over and over. It was quite a rush.

Now my husband tops me at home, but, out in the scene, I'm the bad-ass queen and he's my voyeur roadie, handles my, er, equipment.

"No," I say. "No, there's no charge. Anything to make my clients happy."

"Oh. Oh, great!"

I check my schedule. No appointments for at least an hour. I step over to the door, lock it, flip over the Back In Five sign.

In the booth Ginny strips, slowly, almost reluctantly, but soon enough she's naked and I'm having palpitations. Her body is as soft as her face. Her breasts are full and round. She'd never pass the pencil test, but they don't sag, either. Her butt, hips, and thighs combine for one sensuous curve. Her mound is bald and I'm a bit disappointed. I like a little hair down there. But her inner lips are on the full side and I resist the urge to each down and tug on them. But I will ... and soon. She pulls a coil of blue rope from a bag.

"First you make a bight. Even up the ends and the loop in the middle is called a bight."

I know what a bight is. She continues with her instructions, slow, tediously slow instructions and I resist the urge to just tie the damn thing.

"Now make a knot and slip the loop over my head. Make another knot between my breasts, another on my belly, one more just above my mound."

I make fifth knot, strategically placed. I draw the rope between her legs, pry her pussy lips apart, make sure the knot is nestled right up against her clit.

"That's not-"


"Er ... nothing. Nothing. It's fine. Now make similar knots up my back. Then you're gonna weave the ends between the ropes between the knots."

I take an extra second to make one more adjustment on her pussy, then I help myself to a good long feel of her ass as I nestle the rope between her cheeks. I give it a few tugs and make the knots up her back. She raises her arms.

"Now just work your way around, front and back."

"Is this how it's supposed to be?"

"How so?"

"You said bondage - what about your wrists."

"I was just thinking of a dress. If you tie my hands, then it's called a harness."

"Wouldn't it be, er, more appropriate that way?"

She ponders this.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so. But I usually have my hands tied behind my back and that'd mess up the tan lines in back, wouldn't it?"

"Hm. You're right. How's this?"

I lower her hands and loop the rope around her upper arm, then across her chest, around her forearm, then her wrists as I circled her body with rope. When I'm done her arms are pinned to her sides.

"How's that?"

She squirms a bit.

"A little snug."


"No, just tight."

"What about your legs?"


"Sure. I mean you can do the same thing down there, right?"

"I hadn't thought of that and I don't have any more rope."

"No problem."

I head for the door, pause to take a quick glance at my cute, helpless Ginny. The ropes are in the file cabinet in my office. Why rope in my file cabinet? Why the harness gag, nipple clamps, and flogger? I don't have a good answer. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I continue the pattern down Ginny's legs, cinching the rope at her waist, running knots down and up, circling her legs again and again until she's encased in rope from her neck to her ankles. Until she is absolutely and totally helpless. The domme in me wants to go back for the harness gag, but by some Herculean act of will I resist.

"All set?"

"Yeah. Uh, I'm gonna need a little help."

Not willing to let the moment end too soon I ask, "Did you exfoliate?"

"Exfoliate? No. Why?"

"It gets rid of the dead skin cells leaving a layer of nice fresh skin. Tans easier."


"Hold on a sec."

I'm back in a flash with the abrasive mitt. I scrub her from head to toe - twice. By the way she's squirming the crotch rope is having some effect, but I keep rubbing her until she's pink. There's a selection of lotions on the shelf. While I don't like them bringing their own, this stuff is specially formulated for use in the bed. I squirt a generous amount on my hand.

"This is a moisturizer."

She nods and I make circuit up, down, and around her body. When I finish her cheeks are flushed and I don't think it was just from being scrubbed. I wonder if she likes girls? I'll have to ask her, subtly, you know, just curious about the whole bondage thing.



I ease her back and down onto the bed. I pick up her feet, swing them up, position her.

"We'll start with ten minutes today. Then add a couple of minutes each visit for the next month. Okay?"

She nods. I slip the goggles over her head. I set the timer, press the button, and wait. The timer kicks in after about five minutes to allow clients to get undressed and whatnot. I use the time to gaze at my pretty little naked and oh so helpless Virginia.

Back at the desk I pull out my schedule book. I pencil in the appointments, three a week for a month. I make them for the slow times, the times when I'm usually alone. The times when I can devote, er, more personal attention to my client. The cabinet draw is a bit ajar and I catch a glimpse of red ball. I can't suppress the smile. Hey, you never know.

The End

Copyright© 2012 by Jo. All rights reserved.