by Roz Lee
“Oh God, Richard.” Her hands gripped the edge of the table. He’d gone too far, again.
“I’m getting thirsty.” I’m past thirsty, going on dehydrated. He dropped his foot and waited until Fallon regained some semblance of control before he rose and extended his hand. “Let’s go somewhere I can get a drink.”
She took his hand and allowed him to guide her up several flights of stairs to a secluded deck area above the Bridge. This had been his private spot ever since the ship had first set sail. No one was allowed to use the private enclave unless he approved it. So far, he’d only approved one person to clean the deck chairs and tables once a week. Yesterday he’d made sure everything was clean and ordered a shade cloth stretched over the area.
“We won’t be disturbed here, and no one can see us. We have total privacy.” His hands went to her sarong and dropped it to the deck. “Lie down on the chaise.” She sat on the end and scooted until she rested against the slightly raised back. “Spread your legs as wide as you can.” Fallon spread her legs. Moisture glistened on her swollen folds, held open by the gold ropes he’d placed there. A flash of pain made him close his eyes and grit his teeth. The key was right there, flashing in the filtered sunlight across her chest. All he had to do was unhook it and end his torment, but not yet. Not until he proved to her how much he’d changed, and then he could tell her what he’d done, and why.
He opened his eyes against the pain and slid a few throw pillows under her hips. He drew a satin envelope from under a stack of towels and from it took three lengths of nylon rope. Her eyes went wide and she pressed her hands into the cushion as if to bolt.
“Relax. I’m going to secure your ankles and wrists to the railing.” He indicated the metal railing surrounding the small private deck. “Do you trust me, Fallon?” She was a fool if she did. He didn’t even trust himself these days.
“Yes.”
“I won’t hurt you.” That, at least, was true. “I don’t want you to have to think about staying still once I get started. This will take the decision out of your hands.” He lifted one ankle and began to wrap the rope around it in an elaborate knot. “Of course, all you have to do is say the word. You remember the word, don’t you?”
“Yes, Richard.”
He secured the first ankle, then the other and stood back to admire his work. She glistened like a fountain of honey in the desert and he wanted to fall to his knees and worship her, but he wasn’t quite through yet.
“Now your wrists, sweetheart.” He gestured for her to hold them out and she did. In a matter of minutes, he had them secured to the railing behind her head. “How does that feel?”
She tested the ropes, tugging and writhing. “I’m okay.”
“One more thing.” He reached for the satin packet one more time and pulled out a length of white satin fabric. “You need to be silent. We wouldn’t want the other passengers to hear you scream and come see what’s going on, would we?”
“No, Richard.”
“Okay, then.” He placed the gag in her mouth and tied it behind her neck. “I realize this takes away your ability to end this, so I’m going to give you this last chance to tell me to stop. I promise to bring you nothing but pleasure. Do you trust me to do that?”
She nodded.
“I promise to free you when I’m done. Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
“Then let’s begin.” He dropped a kiss to her parted lips before sinking between her thighs.
The little taste he’d had yesterday had only whetted his appetite. Her alabaster skin seemed translucent in the sunlight filtering through the shade-cloth. Her exposed pussy was rosy pink and glistened with moisture. Richard placed two towels on the deck to protect his knees and dropped down, kneeling like a supplicant before the altar. A flick of his wrist freed his straining cock before he bent to his task.
* * * * *
Fallon closed her eyes against the panic setting in. Absurd, but she wasn’t at all concerned about being naked, gagged, and tied to the deck railing. The panic welling in her chest came entirely from the realization of how much she wanted to feel Richard’s mouth on her, how desperate she was for him to get on with it. Why did he insist on making sure she wanted to proceed? Any man who would truss a woman up like this surely didn’t really care one way or the other if she approved, but strangely enough, Richard did. She nodded her compliance while everything inside her screamed, begged for him to put his mouth on her.
And then he did, and the scream she’d only imagined blossomed up and caught against the gag. One swipe of his tongue, and her hips came off the pillows. She thrashed against her restraints. Before she had a chance to regain her composure, his hands gripped her thighs and he tasted her again, this time delving his tongue into her channel.
Her breath came fast and shallow, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she thanked him for the restraints, for without them she wouldn’t have been able to stand the onslaught that ensued. Everything she thought she knew, everything she’d learned about cunnilingus, had been nothing compared to what he taught her. His tongue explored, tasted, and fucked her. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, nipping when she thought she might have lost all feeling, ensuring she wouldn’t miss his next move, his next assault on her sanity. She learned the shape of his lips as he kissed her labia like a man starved for his lover’s lips. He sucked her clit, brought her to mindless orgasm, over and over again. And he only used his mouth. God help her if he touched her with any other part of his body.
Silently she begged him to end the torture, but then she’d fly into space again, secured to earth by his ropes, golden and otherwise, and that safety gave her the freedom to let loose her every inhibition. She’d never felt anything like it, had only dreamed of the shattering releases he brought her to, and even her dreams fell short of the reality. Richard Wolfe was a master of cunnilingus. He could write his own book, one ten times better than hers. The world would bow down at his feet, as she intended to do as soon as he let her loose.
* * * * *
He was risking permanent damage. If he didn’t get relief soon he might be maimed for life. One more orgasm. He needed to give her one more before he quit. Richard sucked her clit into his mouth again and bit down, hard, harder than he’d intended. He instantly soothed the hurt with his tongue and another pull of his lips. Her pussy gushed against his mouth and he plunged his tongue inside, drinking in her liquid heat.
Even while he drank from her, he managed to cover himself so she wouldn’t see. As the last tremors rocked her, he stood on weak legs and freed her. “I’ll pick you up for dinner. Be ready at eight.”
He fled as fast as he could to the private restroom he’d had built one deck below. He wrenched the door open and slid the deadbolt home before turning on the light. He kept lubricant here in case of an emergency, and this was a code red if he ever saw one. He leaned against the rosewood paneling and gently removed his sarong. His cock was purple, straining against the latticework of small gold ropes spanning it from just behind the glans to the base. The intricately wrought sleeve was locked securely to his Prince Albert piercing with a small lock, identical to the ones Fallon now wore. He could end his torment with the key, the one hanging around Fallon’s neck.
He took a moment, let his head fall back against the wall, and tried to even out his breathing. When at last he could focus, he found the tube of lubricant and squirted a generous amount into his hand. It felt cool against the angry swollen skin of his cock. He stroked the gel along the engorged length, gripping as tight as he could stand, working as quickly as possible to relieve the pressure. It took only seconds. His balls, already drawn tight, clenched, and he pitched forward. Gripping the sink with one hand, he guided his cock over the bowl and cursed through gritted teeth as he shot his pent-up need into the sink.
He staggered to the toilet and sat, bent at the waist, his elbows on his knees. He dropped his head to his hands and fisted his fi
ngers in his hair. The doctor who fitted him with the piercing and chastity sleeve had warned him what would happen if he became too aroused. It hadn’t been too much of a problem until now. With other women, he simply remembered why he wore the cock cage and his erection withered, but with Fallon, living out his fantasies, that was a whole other story.
His broad shoulders were satin smooth. Dark hairs began just above his nipples, continued down over his pecs narrowing to a single line bisecting his abdomen. My eyes followed the line to the thatch of hair surrounding his penis. He'd trimmed his pubic hair so it was no longer than the dark stubble on his jaw. His testicles rested on his thighs. He'd also shaved them. My own shaved pussy flooded with desire. God help me if he knew.
From the file labeled, 'Subject M5, Richard Wolfe'
Chapter Four
Fallon fumbled with the knot holding the gag in place. By the time she worked it loose and rasped out his name, Richard was gone. In the aftermath, her body trembled like an addict’s deprived of her fix. She grabbed a towel and pulled it over her body. Her pussy throbbed from his attentions. Why hadn’t he stayed? How could he do those things to her, send her into another dimension, then leave her to come back to earth alone?
One hand moved to the swollen flesh between her legs. She’d been done by a master. Nothing she’d seen or witnessed in her years of research on oral sex techniques came close to what she’d just experienced firsthand. Suddenly, her book seemed irrelevant, trivial. And she called herself an expert. What a joke. Compared to Richard she knew nothing. Clinically, her book was correct. Her research was valid, her techniques solid.
She fingered the gold ropes holding her labia major open. Naïve. She was naïve. Richard had showed her in one session where her research failed. She hadn’t taken into consideration the restraints society places on sex. When she’d seen the ropes on the mannequin, she’d wondered at why someone would want to bind another person during sex. She thought it had to do with dominance, bending someone to your will.
Her hand traced the ropes across her abdomen, over her stomach, around her breast and over her chest to the collar around her neck. She threw the towel off and looked at the intricate patterns covering her. The white nylon ropes dangled from the railing where Richard had restrained her. Now she understood. It wasn’t about control or domination. It was about freedom. By binding her, he’d given her the freedom to experience to the fullest, to fly, knowing she was safely tethered to earth.
Richard had negated her need to cling to even a shred of control. He’d given her complete freedom to experience her body’s release, as well as the freedom to safely express herself during it. It was a gift worth more than gold.
So why had he left her? Was he afraid she wouldn’t understand? Afraid she wouldn’t want to see him after? After the most incredible experience of her life?
The shade cover billowed in the sea breeze, indicating the ship’s change of course. Fallon found her discarded sarong and pulled it around her, slipped her sandals on her feet and stood to peer over the railing. The Lothario would sail aimlessly around the Caribbean for several more days before making it to the one port of call, a private island owned by Richard and Ryan. No other ports welcomed the ship with its erotic, everything goes, sexual theme. She let the wind whip her hair around her face, loving the new sense of freedom he’d given her. The only thing missing was him. She wanted to share this with him, tell him she understood, that she loved him.
Hours later, she closed her laptop, satisfied with the new direction she felt compelled to research. Would Richard allow her to stay onboard long enough to research another book, one about rope bondage? She needed to think it through some more before she approached him with the idea, needed to see where this week would take them as a couple, and as employee and employer.
* * * * *
The pain had subsided, mostly. After spilling himself into the sink, he’d found relief in cool cloths and an ointment with a topical painkiller. An image of Fallon, bound and gagged, flashed into his mind. He went semi-erect, a reassuring state, since he’d feared permanent damage from his earlier full-blown erection. “Down, boy.” He massaged his cock through the intricate rope pattern. “No more of that tonight.”
Probably no more of that for the rest of his life. He should have stayed to see about her, seen to her, but self-preservation had been the only thing he’d been capable of, and barely even that, at the time. When he came out of the restroom, she was gone. The small deck would never be the same. He’d never be able to find peace there again. Memories of Fallon bound to the railings, the jewel of her body exposed to him, trusting him, would haunt him for the rest of his life. He took the time to untie the knotted ropes and return them to their satin envelope, but when he came to the gag she’d had to remove for herself, he nearly choked on his own stupidity.
He had to put an end to the insanity. He had to give her the choice he denied her at the outset. Continuing without her full consent wasn’t an option, especially after his behavior this morning. He’d gagged her, for Christ’s sake. As if binding her hadn’t been enough, he’d taken away her ability to end the session. There were soundproof rooms on the lower decks, rooms where she could have screamed to her heart’s content and no one would have heard, but he’d rejected the idea of taking her to one of them in favor of seeing her in the sunlight, in the one place he felt free. Instead of setting her free, he’d imprisoned her.
The only way to make it right was to give her the key. Let her have the choice to unlock the ropes binding her body. He fingered the key hanging on a thin chain around his neck. Tonight he’d give it to her, and let her decide whether to continue or not. Tomorrow he would give her the rest of the ensemble if she chose to use the key, or one more piece if she chose to continue.
She let him in to her cabin, a good sign, he surmised, but refused to hope. Dressed in the silk sarong all the other female passengers would be wearing tonight, she glowed. The knotted gold rope peeked from the V-neck. His. Possession warred with tenderness. He held out a small black box. “I brought you something.”
“Another gift? Richard, you shouldn’t have.” She made no attempt to take the box, so he opened it and thrust his hand toward her.
“A key?” Comprehension dawned on her face. “You’re giving me the key? Why?”
“Take it, Fallon.”
“I don’t want it.” Hope soared in him. He squashed it down.
“I want you to have it.” He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand, turning it palm up. He dumped the key in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. . . I should have given you the choice from the very beginning. I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’m doing it now. What I did this morning was unconscionable. Gagging you. . . It was insane. . . It was against everything I promised you.”
“Richard, don’t. Don’t apologize. I have to admit, when you tied the gag I felt a little flutter of panic, but as soon as you touched me it went away.” She reached up, ran a fingertip across his frowning lips. “I get it. I understand. . . the ropes. . . everything. What you did this morning was a gift. I understand that now. What I don’t understand is why you left me alone afterward? I wanted to share that time with you, the man who’d given me the gift.”
“You weren’t horrified?”
Her thumb played along his bottom lip. “No, Richard. I wasn’t horrified. I was. . . flying. I’ve never felt so free, or so safe, in my life. You gave me that, and I wanted to share it with you, but you left so fast.”
The why was there, unasked, and to remain unanswered for now. “I can’t tell you why. I just had to go. Next time I won’t leave you.” Next time. There was going to be a next time. Pain, sharp and sweet, bit into his groin. Maybe he could tell her everything soon. “Keep the key.” He took her hand, pried open her fingers. He hooked the key on the same ring with the key that would unlock his own private gates of hell. “If you choose to unlock the ropes, I’ll understand.”
>
“Okay. I’ll keep the key, but I won’t be using it.”
“Your choice, Fallon. It has to be your choice.”
“Thank you.” She fingered the keys at her throat.
“I have to go to the show tonight. It’s a new troupe, a bunch Ryan hired.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks. I could use the company. No more tonight, Fallon, I promise. I’ll bring you the next piece of the ensemble in the morning, if you want it.”
“Not going to tell me which piece it is?” she teased.
“No. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
* * * * *
As far as cruise ship entertainment went, they weren’t bad. The band and vocal talent had their stuff together, could probably make a decent living on dry ground. How the lead female belted out a ballad while being fucked by the bass guitarist, Fallon didn’t know. Neither one had missed a note, as far as she could tell. The guy had continued to play after he pulled out of her, spraying cum across her stomach to the beat of his guitar. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Fallon leaned over and whispered in Richard’s ear.
“Me either. Ryan said they were good, but I didn’t expect this. I think the audience is about to erupt into a group fuck.”
She glanced around the theatre. Several people had gotten a head start on the group. “You might be right.”
“Want to stay and watch, or have you seen enough?”
“I like the music, but I can do without the orgy.”
Richard stood. Fallon followed his lead. “I’ll have security keep an eye on the situation, just in case. It seems peaceful enough for now.”