Cupid’s Valentine
by hot2trot
Copyright © 2006


Cupid stretched, his body waking up slowly as he yawned.  Today he could languish in bed, enjoy a round of golf on the links – anything he wanted.  Today was his.

Everyone had it wrong thinking that his busiest day was Valentine’s Day.  That one day had been decreed by the Counsel as his day off.  The schedule was simple:

As he glanced around, still not knowing how the day would unfold, his eyes scanned the bows hung neatly on the wall, quivers full of finely crafted arrows tipped with the special arrowheads only he know how to construct, a work bench along the far wall, his clean outfits neatly hung on the rack.  His two room cottage was small, yet spacious in its own way.  It fitted his needs perfectly.

Cupid’s mind wandered distantly to his father, St. Valentine, who’d been executed in A.D. 269.  His mother had been the jailor’s daughter who’d visited him while he had being held in confinement.  A long time had passed since he’d lost his parents; he still missed them.

On to happier thought though – this was his day to do with as he pleased.  Another long slow stretch of his body accompanied by another yawn.  Maybe he’d just lounge in bed for a while; after all, he didn’t get to sleep in that often.

Rolling over on his side, his slender muscular body relaxed.  He closed his eyes ready to grab a few more winks.  He sighed.  His day.

A small noise in the other room caused his eyes to fly open and his alertness to rise quickly.  He listened intently.  Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him.  No.  There it was again.  A small moan accompanied by a shuffle of movement.  Someone was in his home!

Quietly getting out of bed, he removed a bow from the wall, retrieved an arrow from a quiver and seated it.  He drew back the bowstring, the arrow pointing downward, and silently proceeded into the other room, ready to bring the bow to eye level and fire.

He quickly scanned the exterior of the room, noting nothing out of the ordinary.  His eyes then came to rest on an object in the middle of the room on the large oval rug.  He relaxed his grip on the bowstring and arrow, and leaned the bow and its striking partner against the wall.

His eyes returned to the object.  It was a female.  Her dark brown hair was braided and lay against her back.  A black leather blindfold covered her eyes.  Her soft sensuous mouth was filled with a red ball which had a thin black strip of leather running through it, the ends neatly tied together behind her head.  His eyes continued over the kneeling figure, taking in every detail.  Her body was wrapped in red bondage tape, her breast area highlighted by pink tape.  Exposed pierced nipples were attached to a taunt thin silver chain which ran to the ring of a stainless steel collar fastened around her neck.  (How had he missed that detail?)  Her arms were bound together behind her back, her palms seemingly attached to the soles of her feet.  His gaze resumed its downward travel.  The red tape continued over the slender body, wrapping around her belly.  Her legs were spread apart, a light shade of pink caught his eye – the area between her legs was exposed.  Her legs were held in place as her captor had wrapped each thigh and calf to its respective partner with more the red tape.  His eyes also observed the package was finished off with her ankles and feet wrapped together.

He signed softly, contently.  The woman moaned and turned her head in his direction.  Who had brought this gift to him?  No matter.  The day would definitely turn out far differently than he could have conceived.