“Well, yeah. I was in bed. I couldn’t sleep.”
Judy shook her hair back and traced a finger down the neck of her robe, down to the point where the thing wrapped over, then back up to her neck. “I’m not naked, but I like the fact that you are,” she said. KK waited.
“Are you—is this all right with you? I mean, I don’t want to push you, or upset you. But I do like you. You know I’m a top, not just a rigger . . . and . . . I’m bisexual. Or pansexual. I like you.” She was looking slightly anxious, uncertain. KK wondered what their own expression might look like: either blushing or grinning like an idiot. Yes, Judy was a top; she’d mentioned it, and every time KK thought about it, it gave them a little, dark, dirty thrill.
“I like you, too,” they said.
“I want to do more than just rope with you,” Judy said, looking straight into the camera. Then she bit her lip and looked away.
“Oh yes, please!” KK was more used to rope events than fetish clubs, but had been to enough of the latter to know the sort of thing they wanted. They just hadn’t been entirely sure about bringing it up in a rope-based environment.
Judy was smiling again. “I know we have to behave at Rope Lab . . . well, up to a point. But there are other places we could go, and other things we could do . . .”
KK was almost too aroused to speak.
“Didn’t you say you self-tie, sometimes?” Judy asked, and KK’s whole body seemed to blush.
“Well, yeah. I do. I did it quite a lot when I first got into rope.” KK hadn’t been all that good at tying themself, though it had sometimes been comforting when they felt lonely, or horny, even if it wasn’t very elegantly done. There were some lengths of jute in the bottom of the bedside cabinet, but they hadn’t used them for a while. Judy always brought her own set of hemp ropes to Rope Lab.
“I like to see you in rope,” she said, with a slow, wicked grin. “Will you tie yourself, now, and show me how you do it?” KK heard themself give a little moan. They stared at Judy’s face on the screen and had a sudden flash of worry that this might just be an unusually lucid dream.
“Yeah. I . . . Yeah, I’d love to. I need to get the rope, though. Um, I’m going to need to . . . I think you’re going to get an eyeful when I stand up.”
“I could look away.” Judy’s grin got dirtier. “I could, but I’m not sure I want to. Will you let me see you?”
You’ll see me. It had always been the thing KK both longed for and dreaded: that Judy would want to see. But she had so perfectly taken charge, and she had already said I like you. She wasn’t going to be horrified at what she saw. She liked them, and she wanted to see. It was all right, but the idea of peacocking, flaunting, actually displaying, was still too scary, so it was just a quick spin toward the bed, kneel down, and extract the bundles of jute.
“What sort of tie do you want me to do?” KK asked, then wondered if she could hear properly. They turned back to the laptop, leaning toward the mic.
Judy was clearly considering it. She licked her lips.
“Get on the bed,” she ordered. “I want to see you.” She shook her head. “I want to see what you’re doing with the rope.”
She did understand. She wasn’t going to push too hard, or at least not yet.
“Okay, start with a chest harness. Not quite a TK—obviously, you can’t tie your arms behind your back by yourself—but over and under the . . . the chest, yeah? And do it nice and slowly.”
She was leaning closely into the monitor, watching intently; KK could see themself in a smaller box on the screen, but not in so much detail. That was all right. They shook out one length of rope, feeling glad that they had coiled it properly when they put it away so there was no need to mess about with finding the ends and the center. They fed the doubled rope behind them, drawing both ends up so they stroked against their nipples. Judy, gazing at them, let out a little anticipatory growl. Then KK made a second wrap around themself, keeping the tension, and it was their turn to make a soft, inarticulate sound. As always, the rope closing round their body felt like a determined and delicious hug.
“Now the upper wrap,” Judy instructed, and KK did as instructed, securing the band in place with a quick friction. There was only a short bit of rope left, and they waited to see if she would tell them to join on another length.
“You need more rope,” she said, after a full minute of watching. KK picked up another of the bundles, unwound it, and fastened the new length to the one that already held them.
“Now take it behind your neck, and down to your left thigh . . . Pull it good and tight, and hitch it there. Now wrap again . . .”
It was almost as though she were there, tying them; her hands tugging on the jute, dressing the ropes and adjusting the tension. Every nerve ending in KK’s body was blazing with sensation, their breathing was ragged, and their mouth was dry with lust. The tie on the left leg was a little random, but she instructed them in tying the other leg in a tight futomomo, and then ordered them to fasten off the loose end, lie back, and part their thighs.
There was no escaping it now: she would be able to see everything. KK didn’t care. They honestly couldn’t say whether they felt shame, or pride, or some blend of both as they displayed themself for her. Judy wanted to see. Judy wasn’t put off.
“That’s so hot,” Judy breathed. “Does the rope hurt?”
“Uhh . . .” was all KK could say. The jute was biting into their flesh, but the pain was glorious.
“You’ve got your hands free,” she said. “Do you want to touch yourself?”
“Oh god, please . . .” A hand between the thighs, fingertips teasing . . . A sudden thought of what it would feel like if her hand were there, and coming felt almost inevitable. KK could only see the screen by raising their head at an awkward angle, but that seemed to increase the pleasure even more. Judy’s lips were parted, her eyes wide and full of anticipation.
“Do it. But don’t come until I say so.”
KK began to wank, relishing it, panting, feeling the pressure and the need increase even more with Judy watching intently. They wondered if she was stroking herself, out of the range of her laptop’s camera.
“Are you close? Do you want to come for me?” Her voice was hoarser, rougher, with a slight tremble in it.
“Please . . . Please . . .” Holding back much longer would be impossible
“Stop!” She said it loudly and clearly. Shocked, KK let their hand fall away, but their body was beyond control: they went into an enormous, rushing, gasping, thrashing climax. With their ears ringing and their hips bucking, it was an effort not to scream. It was quite a while—or it felt like quite a while—before they could lift their head to look at the laptop and make eye contact with Judy.
“What . . . What just happened?” They’d never experienced anything quite like it before. Judy’s eyes were wide, and she had one hand over her mouth, but KK was pretty sure she was smiling.
“I never managed to do that to anyone till now,” she said. “Um, maybe I should say sorry. I should have asked if you were into edging. The whole ruined-orgasm thing.”
KK managed to raise themself up on their elbows. They had heard people talk about edging, now and again, but had never tried it.
“It’s fine. Not just fine. That was fucking amazing.” Their body was beginning to recover, the shudders subsiding and a warm, peaceful contentment stealing through every cell and nerve ending.
“How was it for you?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Awesome. So fucking hot. The look on your face, the rope round your body, and then watching you practically come your brains out.”
KK wanted to ask her if she’d been playing with herself while she topped them, long-distance, if she’d come as well, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so. If she wanted them to know, she would tell them. They realized that the muscles in their right leg were beginning to twinge, and put a hand on the topmost band of jute.
“I think I might need to
move this,” they said, as much to themself as to her.
“Take it off. Untie both legs.” That demanding tone was back in her voice, and they felt another tingle rush through their body. They obeyed, not rushing it, though making sure to deal with the potentially crampy right leg first. They had always savored the sensation of the rope unwinding; it was a bittersweet joy compared to the anticipation and delight that came with being bound. Judy understood that, which was one of the things KK liked about being tied by her. Once free of the ropes, they pushed them gently off the bed and onto the floor.
“I should probably go and clean myself up,” they said, and Judy gave a slightly exaggerated pout of disappointment.
“Yeah. I think I probably ought to let you get some sleep as well.” She sighed, and the look of what KK could only think of as mistressy mischief left her face. She was Judy, as KK was used to seeing her in the pub after Rope Lab . . . But that dominance was still there, underneath. It had always been there, and it must have been part of what they responded to, the very first time she wrapped a length of rope around their wrist.
“Thank you,” she was saying now.
“No, thank you!” KK felt they’d been given an amazing gift.
“I mean it. I was feeling like shit when we started chatting. Now I feel . . . much more like myself. Listen, I’ve got three more days here, then I’m home. Do you want to meet up when I’m over my jet lag?”
KK was struck by a sudden mischievous impulse of their own, yet confident she would understand what they meant.
“I might be . . . tied up,” they said, and Judy laughed aloud, delightedly. “Oh, babe. You will be. You most definitely will be.”
THE DEEPEST PART OF THE FOREST
Deborah Castellano
I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. What was I doing? I was trying to be more spontaneous. I bit the inside of my cheek. A party full of strangers . . . and Will. Rene had been left in charge of the library’s yearly fundraiser, a weekend-long Renaissance Faire, and had asked us both for help. Our emails started out cautiously, both of us carefully avoiding stepping on each other’s toes in our respective areas of expertise, but eventually we found ourselves texting each other as well with small flirtations that always made my long workdays go faster.
Do you have plans for Halloween? I asked.
My friends Bess and Thorton have an annual costume party. I’m never sure what to go as. What about you?
Usually I cobble plans together, but I haven’t come up with anything yet. Rene said she’d lend me something to wear if I wanted.
Would you like to join me for the party? It’s a bit more crowded than I prefer, but Bess and Thorton work on set design at the Met so it’s always gorgeous.
Yes, but I’ll warn you, I can be shy around people I don’t know.
No worries. I can be reserved in large groups, so I think it will work out fine. Do I get to know who you’ll be?
Isn’t that always the question? I’ll let Rene dress me.
I’m intrigued. I’ll see if she would be willing to assist me as well.
It felt like I had barely blinked and it was the night of the party. Rene brought a suitcase full of clothes and makeup that she spilled open onto my bed. She surveyed the riotous bloom of fabric while sipping a French martini that she had already helped herself to from the bar cart in my dining room. After a long moment of thought (and half a martini), she put me in her silk velvet ruby-hooded cloak that had a pretty pewter clasp and her Frye black leather tall riding boots. From my closet, she selected a clingy little black dress with a plunging keyhole neckline to finish the outfit. She then curled my dark hair into romance heroine locks and did my makeup to look dewy and innocent.
“You dressed me as prey,” I said flatly when I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing how the ensemble came together.
She shrugged unapologetically. “Sometimes you’re the wolf and sometimes you’re Little Red. Who do you see yourself as in this scenario?”
“Little Red,” I murmured ruefully. I sighed.
“Hey, listen. Just because you’re Little Red doesn’t mean you’re a damsel in distress here. He doesn’t get to be the Wolf unless you let him; both sides have to play. So play for once in your life, Lucy. It won’t kill you, pinkie swear.” She finished the rest of the martini, put it resolutely on my vanity, and watched me sternly as she gathered her belongings and made her way back out into the night. I bit my lip and smoothed my cloak and headed to the party.
I tentatively handed my keys to the valet and gathered up my basket. I had stopped on the way to the party to fill it with goodies for Grandma, incredibly conscious of who I would actually be seeing. Ripe pomegranates, sprigs of rosemary, fresh bread that was still warm, and velvety tiny scarlet tea roses. The walkway was lined with black-lace-clad ghost pumpkins and big white pillar candles. I fished the bottle of my favorite red wine out of the basket and rang the bell.
“You must be Will’s Lucy!” said a woman with a tall powdered wig, a handmade wooden ship precariously perched in it. Her gown was a regal pastel pink and she wore bejeweled tiny slippers with it. She threw her arms around me with no care about her tiny ship and hugged me tightly.
“Thank you for having me,” I said, pleased. I gave her the bottle.
“Of course! Oh this is my favorite! Let’s open it right away!”
I followed Bess obediently to the dining room, admiring everything. The potted cedar trees created an enchanted forest in the large great room and halls. There were tiny black-velvet settees, shadowy bejeweled mirrors, and candelabra draped with more midnight crystals everywhere. We entered the dining room and I immediately noticed a long wooden table covered in black dahlias, fleshy figs, roasted hazelnuts, dark cheeses and bread, tiny glistening candied apples, and pale-orange pumpkins sliced open and used as trays for overflowing plates of charcuterie. Little hand-sculpted dark chocolate mice impishly peeked out from under the trays.
“Black cherry martini?” she asked. I nodded, accepted the drink, and took a sip. “Will! Look who I found.”
I turned and saw that Rene had dressed him in a dove-gray suit and vest with the top buttons of his dress shirt open. His feet were bare, and she had arranged his long hair to suggest wolf ears. I felt myself smiling like a lantern had been lit inside me and when he smiled back, I felt my blood rush. I put my drink down carefully and he swept me up in a tight hug. I want him to be the wolf, I thought, startling myself. Maybe even my wolf.
“Let’s go outside,” he said. “They just started a bonfire.”
I looped my arm through his and we stepped through the forest and out the door in the kitchen. The moon was almost full and it was a crisp night. We walked through a wooden archway with pumpkins growing from the top of the trellis. I could smell the smoke of the large fire and as my eyes adjusted I could see men dressed as satyrs, drinking out of horns, laughing and singing in Gaelic around the bonfire. To the right side of the satyrs, three young blonde women dressed as the witches from American Horror Story were perched on a claw-foot tub in the grass, intently drawing cards from different decks and placing them on top of each other, whispering to one another. Away from the bonfire, Persian rugs were laid out haphazardly and guests in full Tudor attire mingled with superheroes, fairies, and many-limbed Indian goddesses. A giggling group of flappers contact-juggled while several demons breathed fire in the hopes of impressing each other.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” I said softly. I had let go of his arm and I slowly spun in a small circle, trying to see, hear, and smell everything. “I can’t find the words to describe this. A picture wouldn’t even capture it properly.”
“Your voice is particularly mellifluous right now,” he said, brushing my hair behind my ear.
“I can’t say I’ve heard anyone use the word mellifluous in a sentence in recent memory.”
He laughed. “Well, why not?”
“People don’t like to use lovely wor
ds enough for some reason, I’ve found.”
“Resplendent.”
“Magnil . . . oh! I read too much as a teenager and didn’t talk enough, I still stumble. Magniloquent! There!” I laughed. “Are we having a vocabulary bee while all of these wonderful things are going on?”
“It appears so,” he said, smiling.
“Rene would never let me hear the end of that!”
“Rene knows both of us, so I suspect she’ll find this inevitable.”
“Are they bobbing for apples over there?”
“It appears so. Would you like to try it?”
“I would love to,” I said, giggling and grabbing his hand.
“Everyone, this is Lucy. Lucy, everyone!”
“Hi,” I said gamely, feeling emboldened.
“Will, you should do the honors for your Lucy,” a mermaid laughed. Everyone kept calling me his Lucy. I pulled myself back behind him slightly.
A slight flush crept across Will’s face. I looked at him questioningly.
“Did you even explain the rules?” a woman dressed as an Amazon queen scolded.
“You change them every year!”
“Will shall take this silk scarf,” the Amazon said, flourishing a black scarf dramatically, “and tie your hands behind your back with it. Thus terribly helpless and bound, you will get an apple out with your teeth. Then Will takes the apple out of your mouth with his mouth. Are you feeling brave tonight, Will’s Lucy?”
My mouth had formed a silent oh. I could feel myself turn as scarlet as my cloak. At one time in my life, I wouldn’t have thought twice about this, but now with fewer of these experiences, I found myself reverting back to my childhood shyness, much to my dismay. And I found myself liking him more than I should, which wasn’t helping. I steadied myself. Be brave.
He smiled at the Amazon queen and said into my ear, “Don’t let Brianna influence you. We can go back inside and eat chocolate mice under the table and eavesdrop.”
I suppressed a delicious shudder from having him so close to me and then smiled, grateful to have the chance to make my own decision. “I can be brave,” I said resolutely. I took off my cloak with as much flourish as I could manage, my heart pounding in my ears. Brianna pinned my hair back with deft movements. I knelt down on the carpet in front of the wooden barrel. I took a deep breath and nodded up at Will. He leaned down and touched the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as he slowly trailed his hands down my arms, tracing the skin on the inside of my wrists.
Best Bondage Erotica of the Year Page 8