by Trisha Wolfe
Her chin lifts, showing me just how strong she’s being in this moment. “And chains?”
My eyebrows pull together. “I would never…” I’m there before her then, taking her face between my palms, the rope lassoed around my shoulder. “No, goddess. I would never subject you to chains. Just say the name of the fucker who has, and I will end him.”
She swallows hard, blinks. “He’s dead.”
I nod hard once. “He would be regardless after I was through with him.”
A tentative smile touches her mouth, and I wither under the pain of it. “I’m not broken, Colton. You showed me that. I’ve just been lost, confused and twisted, for a long time.”
I ease out a strained breath. “Forged or born, you are perfection. Don’t ever question that.” I rest my lips against her forehead, savoring her lavender scent, the warmth of her skin.
“I have to believe that this is who I’d be with or without him,” she says. Her arms slip around me, and I cradle her head against my chest. “Finding you…I know now. With you, I’m every bit the real me.”
I drop a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’re mine.”
With slow but sure movements, she separates from me and holds up her wrists, joint-to-slender joint. “Break his bonds from me. Break them and bind me to you.”
My chest heaves as I stand before her, so completely raw and wanting. “Yes, goddess.” Every order she commands of me, I will do without question.
I slip the rope down my arm and begin to unravel it, letting the end curl along the floor as I run it through my hands to remove any stray fibers. Then I twine it around her wrists, wrapping it twice, then through the middle section to lock her hands in place.
“Raise your arms,” I instruct. We’ve been here before, but this time is so much more. This isn’t me guiding her, exposing her to this intimate side of herself. It’s us discovering who we are together.
Once I’ve gotten the ring threaded and the rope secured, I kiss the smooth skin beneath her bound wrists, then trail my hands to her ribs, where I give her breasts the attention they deserve.
I work my tongue over one pink nipple, flicking the tender bud and sucking it into my mouth. She’s mine now. During the first Shibari session, I was her trainer, the person she needed to be able to trust. I would’ve never taken advantage of her in that vulnerable position. Now, she’s bound to me, and I will touch, lick, caress, and dominate every succulent part of her body.
Her leg laces around mine as she attempts to pull me closer, and I drop to my knees where I bring her ankle up and kiss it before threading a loop. I travel up her leg like that, threading and looping, kissing and caressing, as I create a stunning and intricate design. Once I reach her inner-thigh, I pause and give my patient goddess a small reward, nibbling on her clit until she squirms.
“Hold still,” I say, then suck her into my mouth, eliciting a sultry whimper from her, before I move on to her other leg. I create the same design there, then stretch the end of the rope up to the ring.
Next, with deft movements, I lace a separate length of rope around her ribs, joining the loops along her back. As I move up her torso, I separate a section of the rope to make two thin strands, then thread it over her breasts. She twitches against the binds as I tweak the rope, tightening it to securely clamp her nipples.
“Tell me how that feels,” I say, massaging the sensitive skin around her nipples, roughening them up to take the abuse.
“It makes me tingle. It makes me…hot and wet.” Her voice quivers, and I close my eyes, letting her words guide my movements. “Touch me, Colton.”
Pressing up against her back, I reach around and slide my finger into her slit. Her wetness drenches me. “Jesus, goddess. Are you trying to make me fuck you?”
She shivers against me, and I dig my teeth into the flesh of her arm, savoring her throaty moan. I swirl the pad of my finger around her slick lips, then rub her wetness over her clit.
“This is how I should feel,” she says, and I wonder what dark thought torments her—what past cruelties she’s suffered that she would ever question how her body should respond.
“You know the safe words,” I remind her, my tone assuring.
“Yes.” She moves her hips, persuading my fingers to rub harder.
Not yet. Removing my hand, I return to threading her harness. This construct is testing my patience just as much, my need for her causing my hands to shake as I tie off the final knot. When it’s complete, I palm her waist and turn her to face the wall.
“Tell me what you want. I can pick, or you can—”
“The cane,” she says, shocking me silent.
“Goddess…”
“Take his place,” she says. “Take away his power over me. He used the cane to feed off of my suffering—there was no love or trust. Only pain. In your hands, the pain will be delivered with both. I don’t want to fear what he’s created inside me anymore…and the only way to do that is to break me of his memory.”
I turn toward her, take her in my arms and kiss her desperately. I never could’ve brought her to this point on my own—she understands herself, her own needs, so deeply she humbles me. “I love you,” I say against her lips.
“I know. Now claim me as yours.”
And as I guide her ankles upward, securing the rope to the ring, contorting her body in a beautiful, graceful pose, I help coax her into her subspace. She spins as I tighten the harness, then I position her knees beneath her, close to her abdomen, as I maneuver her to face the floor.
“Tighter,” she says, and I comply.
She needs the safety of the ropes cradling her in order to find her subspace, in order to take the cane. My fingers twist each band along her back, tightening the harness until she releases a moan of pleasure.
I’m so amazed at her trust in me, after what I’ve just confided in her, that my selection of the cane weighs heavily on me. She’s been dealt blows before…but I want this experience to override that—to demolish that painful memory entirely.
I choose the red cane she was eyeing when I first brought her here. I saw the fear in her eyes in that moment, and I never want to see it again.
Laying my hand between her shoulder blades, I delicately knead the muscles around her spine, further relaxing her into her bottom space. “Sadie, breathe.” Her body quakes just from my touch, the anticipation for what’s to come drawing her out of her comfort zone, and her breathing is short and choppy. “I want you to take deep, long breaths. We’re going to go slow, and your breathing will be my guide.”
“Okay.” She regulates her breathing, doing exactly as I instruct.
I keep my hand resting on her back, continuing to massage and comfort, as I lay the middle of the cane along the bottommost part of her back. Gliding the cane across her skin, I allow her to get used to the feel, the thickness and grain of the wood. Then I drum it once, softly, against her.
Her quick intake of air isn’t from pain; it’s in her mind. The fear of the blow. I resume drumming the middle of the cane along the soft flesh of her back in rhythmic percussion, and her breathing evens out. This massage technique will calm her and lead her into the strokes with what I hope is little, jarring impact.
As she grows accustomed to the feel of the cane, I move over her back, stopping beneath her harness, and work her muscles into a relaxed state. Then, with careful finesse, I ease to her bottom and drum her tender skin.
“Green,” she says, and I can’t help but smile, in complete awe of her.
Placing my hand against her lower back, I increase the impact of the short drums, heightening the intensity. Her muscles tense a bit, and I caress her lovingly. Roaming my hand lower, I delicately palm her ass and then massage, priming her to take her first blow.
“The first stroke will be harder than what I’ve given you so far,” I say, making sure to maintain the honest trust between us, letting her know what to expect while also giving her my voice to latch on to.
I slide the
cane along her bottom until the tip presses against her ass, then I pull it back, just slightly, and deliver a quick tap. The slap is louder than the amount of pain produced, and she flinches at the noise, but soon eases back into her comfort zone.
We continue this dance, creating an orchestra of taps and percussions, slowly increasing the level of sting. I listen to her breathing, allowing her body to direct my taps. And when she arches her back, releasing a sensual moan that has me clutching the cane, I forcibly restrain my own desire to take her further.
I place my hand against her stomach, testing her tension level, and feel the tremble of her abdominal muscles. Slipping my hand to her mound, I apply slight pressure, encouraging her to push against my fingers to get some pleasurable release to endure the pain.
Then I run my palm over her ass, feeling the thin, raised welts. I push lower, roaming between her thighs, and close my eyes, my jaw clenched, as I take in her wetness. She soaks my fingers. It’s becoming a measure of discipline for me, too—restraining myself from taking her too early.
But she’s there now—she’s ready to accept the strokes she’s seeking—and thank God, because I have little endurance left.
“The next blow will be harder than the last,” I say.
“Green,” she responds, sending a ripple of desire through me.
I initiate the sequence with mid-level, double taps, changing up the pace and intensity, readying her to take the harder blows. When she bucks against the rope, moving her ass to guide me where she wants the pole, I rear back farther and swat the middle of the cane against her ass. It lands with an audible smack flush against her bottom.
She cries out, and the ropes creak with her spasm.
“Another,” she demands.
My hand tightens around the handle and I deliver a firmer blow to the same spot. Her moan travels right through me, provoking a groan from deep in my throat. I grit my teeth to maintain composure. I’m coming undone right along with her…and I can’t lose control.
“Last stroke,” I say, because truly, I’m going to throw the cane down and fuck her pussy hard and raw if she keeps demanding more.
I make this last one count. Breaking her of the horrific event that claimed her early on is the purpose; not feeding my need. Though the two are happening simultaneously, and can’t be denied. The more trust she gives me, the more I undeniably become hers, and that tethered rope twining us is taut and binding, crushing me with surreal pleasure.
Drawing the cane back, I flick my wrist, sending a loud whack across her ass. She writhes and releases a cry that pangs the hollow of my chest. That’s enough. Enough.
I toss the cane, drop to my knees, and kiss the welts, trying to assuage the pain. My palms slide over her thighs and I feel the wetness dripping from her center. I close my eyes, completely undone.
Standing, I flip her around into a suspended sitting position, then take her face between my hands. Her eyes are closed, her mouth parted, as she gulps deep breaths. I brush her matted hair away from her face, wipe the sweat from her brow.
“Look at me, Sadie.” My voice is shaky with need and fear, but when she opens her eyes, lust and faith mingle there and hold me beyond captive to her.
My lips crush hers in a bruising kiss that steals my breath as I inhale hers, trading oxygen like life force. I push her bound legs apart, opening her up to me, and she kisses me back with desperate want.
“Fuck me. Now.” Her whispered plea is breathed across my lips, sending a fiery current streaking through my blood. I clutch the rope above her hands with one of mine, moving her closer to me as I smooth my other hand over her back to caress the punished skin.
Heat pours through my jeans as her pussy lines up perfectly with me. My cock straining against the rough material, I grind against her clit, giving her the friction she needs to drive her desire higher.
Her moans surround me. Unguarded, sexy, demanding.
I reach into my pocket and bring out my knife before I unsnap my jeans and let them drop to the floor. I kick out of them as I hold her to me, devouring her breathy moans, keeping her focus on me and away from the sharp object. I have no patience left, and I get out, “Please, give me permission to use the knife to free you, goddess.”
I feel her shiver in my arms, but she nods against me. “I need you inside me…I’m aching so badly.”
Fuck, but I’m aching too, goddess. My mouth is on hers again in a second. I settle my painfully hard cock against her heated entrance, her wetness saturating me, as I slide the top of my shaft between her lips. Pure. Fucking. Torture.
A carnal growl rips from my mouth as I reach up and sever the main suspension rope. She falls free, and I brace my hand against her back, guiding her down as her body glides along mine until I’m filling her.
The knife is dropped, the room fades away, and all that exists is her—her tight, warm flesh surrounding me, consuming me. My breath halts, and I can only stare into her eyes as she links her bound arms around my neck and expertly rolls her hips to take all of me.
That’s when I lose all sense and control. I’m her devoted disciple, bent on pleasing her and making her come so hard that I drive her nightmares away forever.
Dark
Sadie
I use my tied wrists as leverage against Colton’s neck, pulling myself up and then lowering down again, working his perfect, erect cock deeper, taking him inside me again and again, my walls clenching around him insatiably.
His heavy breaths sear my skin as his arms pin me to him. Hands clamped to my shoulders, he brings me down harder each time. I arch my back, giving him the perfect angle to drive into me deeper. My sensitized skin flames with every thrust. The pain of the caning stripped me raw, and now I can only see and feel Colton.
I feel as if I’m still in my subspace, never having left the embrace of the ropes. His arms are those ropes now; my comfort, my protection. My strength. His body my shield, deflecting my past and opening me to our future.
“I’m going to fuck you, goddess,” he says between thrusts, his voice guttural and rubbing against me like friction. “I want you to tell me yes…that I fuck you hard…because I can’t hold back.”
His desire for me only intensifies my need for him, and I cling to his shoulders, sinking my nails into his straining muscles. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, Colton. Fuck me hard and rough.”
Witnessing his loss of control is exhilarating. It chases away the stinging pain still enveloping my body, and fills me with a new sensation I’ve never experienced. Whatever was stolen from me all those years ago in that basement, I’ve been gifted that and more as Colton fills the emptiness.
Time feels suspended; the outside world doesn’t exist.
The cool kiss of the floor touches my tender, heated skin as he lays me down. His blue eyes blaze with want, and despite his hurried movements to take me, he’s careful not to cause more pain than I can tolerate as my back rubs against the floor.
“Lift up,” he orders, and I do, allowing him to grab ahold of my hips and relieve my backside of the friction. He expertly unthreads the knots alongside each of my legs, his gaze holding mine as he frees them. Then he’s inside me, hard and demanding, burying his cock inside my core until I’m crying out.
Anchoring his forearms beneath my knees, he raises my hips to meet his deep thrusts. His hands pin me where he wants me as he slams my walls, his own husky groans mingling with mine. His powerful movements cause the rope harness to tighten, giving my nipples a pinch, and I lock around him.
“Fuck…” He drives deeper, a hiss escaping his mouth as my walls contract.
“You won’t hurt me,” I assure him, knowing he’s still holding back. “I need to feel all of you…right now.”
“So damn beautiful,” he rushes out. Then he releases my legs and drops down to capture my wrists. Pushing them over my head, he fastens them to the floor as his body covers mine. The weight of him bearing down on me sends an erotic thrill through my body.
&nb
sp; His cock is so hard…so engorged…I feel him stretching me, claiming me, and I wrap my legs around him, meeting each thrust as he ravishes every inch of me.
I’m climbing. My blood firing through my veins. I buck my hips as the pull starts low in my back, arching and straining my body against the ropes. Colton’s chest bears down, holding me in place as he slams into me, eliciting a sharp cry.
He offers me his neck, and I don’t hesitate. I bite down on the soft juncture as my orgasm spirals free, initiating an onslaught of serene waves that ebb and gain momentum again, until my entire body is engulfed in the sensation.
His thrusts speed, and I can feel he’s right there… “Don’t you dare pull out,” I order. “I want all of you—” I can’t finish, because my command sets him off. He looses a guttural roar against my lips as he releases deep inside me.
His cock pulses against my walls as my body consumes him.
“Christ,” he breathes against my neck. His labored breaths brush my skin before he pushes back. Still inside me, he raises up to unbind my wrists, then places a tender kiss to each. His mouth then seals mine, his tongue probing deep to taste me, and I match his intensity. Loving, needing, wanting more.
Then he’s moving inside me again, his mouth and cock coaxing my body, sending a fresh wave of heat racing across my skin.
“Are you ready?” he asks, a sexy smile curving his mouth.
I laugh. “You’re looking at me like you’ll cry if I say no,” I say, running my fingers through his hair, over his back.
“I absolutely will, goddess,” he says, planting a kiss to the scar along my collarbone. An ache catches in my throat. “We won’t be done here until I’ve made every single part of your body mine.”
His hand roams down my thigh, bringing my leg up over his shoulder. Popping his finger into his mouth, he then reaches down to caress my ass, working his way to my back channel, where he rests the wet pad of his finger.
His eyes beckon permission to enter me there, and a small bubble of anxiety rises within my chest. “Yes. I trust you,” I say, snaking my arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss me.