by Chloe Finch
“You want me to tie you up and fuck you?” He asked.
She nodded again.
He wasn’t sure if it was a healthy way to explore the trauma from yesterday or an unhealthy reenactment, but he was going to give her what she wanted. Plus, he was half-hard again at the thought, despite having just gotten off. “I’ll get the rope.”
Chapter Ten
Grace
Grace couldn’t believe how much she liked giving Zach head. It should have been degrading. It was degrading, yet she reveled in how dirty it was, being used by him. It should be shameful, but it just felt good. She was so turned on there was a dull ache between her legs, longing for Zach to hurry up and get back. He appeared in the doorway with a coil of rope around his arm.
“Did you have that ready, just waiting for this occasion?”
“Always be prepared,” he said. “Put your hands behind your back and grab your elbows with the opposite hand.” She was glad he was taking charge.
Her heart was pounding. Even though it was what she wanted, what she’d specifically asked for, she was nervous now. She put her hands behind her back, forearms stacked on top of each other. He began to wrap the rope in some sort of intricate knot that involved going around the front of her chest and weaving through her biceps, then down the back and around her hands. It was much more elaborate than what she expected.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” She asked.
“Boy Scouts.”
She laughed.
“What?” He said, pretending to be offended. “You think I couldn’t be a Boy Scout?”
“I don’t know what’s more unbelievable—teaching bondage in Boy Scouts or that they’d let you in.”
“Okay, fine, I was never a Boy Scout. I could barely manage to show up at school, much less extracurriculars.”
“Where’d you really learn it, then?” She hoped the answer wasn’t “my ex-girlfriend.”
“I took a class once. A couple years ago. My friend was taking it, and he asked if I’d go with him, so I said sure. It was at some big BDSM convention at the Javits Center. Not my scene really, but the knot-tying class was actually fun. It’s very satisfying to do a complex knot correctly. Like knitting, maybe.”
She laughed again at the comparison. “I’m sure it’s exactly like knitting.”
When he was done with her arms, she could wiggle just a tiny bit, but they were otherwise totally immobile. Her heartbeat quickened once again. Then he asked her to lie on her side, and he began to work on her legs. With her leg folded in half like she was kneeling, he tied her ankle to her thigh in another complicated knot.
“Have you done this with a lot of other women?” She couldn’t help but think about him doing this to someone else, and she wouldn’t be able to enjoy herself properly if she didn’t know. She’d just be thinking about the question the whole time.
“No, not a lot.” His eyebrows were knit in concentration, finishing up her left leg. “I haven’t been close enough with anyone to try it in a long time.”
She nodded.
He smiled a wicked smile. “Are you jealous, Gracie?” She could hear a shadow of the Zach from work, the one who tormented her incessantly, in his voice.
“Maybe just a little.”
“You don’t have to worry about any of those other women.” He finished the knot with a flourish and kissed her thigh. “Because I’m fucking obsessed with you, and I can’t even remember their names right now.” The words echoed in her head. I’m obsessed with you. It made her giddy. And coming from Zach, it was likely as close to I love you as she’d ever get. It was almost better, actually.
He scooped her up under the armpits and tossed her on the bed. She landed on her knees and immediately tipped over, squealing in delight and terror as she realized she couldn’t catch herself. When she imagined being tied up, she pictured something more basic, like being tied spread-eagle to the four bedposts. The bed didn’t even have four posts though, and this was already more fun. The pose was surprisingly elegant. It was dirty for sure, but also glamorous, in a way. Like she could be a damsel in distress in an old movie, tied to the train tracks.
Zach pulled her up to a kneeling position and sat on his knees facing her. “All wrapped up like a Christmas present,” he said. He caressed her cheek, and her breath quickened. The anticipation was killing her. He could do anything to her. Everything. It was exciting and terrifying.
“I want you to have a good time,” he said. “If you stop having a good time, just say ‘seashell’ and it stops immediately.”
Holy shit, a safe word. Things just got real, fast. He must have seen the terrified look on her face, because he grinned and added, “Or you could just say ‘stop.’”
“Okay,” she said, a little breathless.
“Good,” he said. “Now that we have that out of the way…”
He flipped her over so she was facedown, her face and shoulders smushed into the mattress and her ass in the air. He put his face between her legs.
The sensation of his mouth on her most sensitive places hadn’t yet lost its novelty. And being tied up like this, she felt truly out of control for the first time. Even though it was what she wanted, fantasizing about it and actually experiencing it were two entirely different things. She wanted to readjust her head and went to move her arms, then remembered she was totally immobile. She twitched at the touch of Zach’s tongue, suddenly jumpy and nervous about the whole thing.
He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…I’m not sure if I actually want to be tied up.” She was mortified—after she’d specifically asked for it, and he spent like ten minutes on this elaborate setup, she was reversing her decision already.
She expected him to immediately begin untying her, or at least flip her over on her back or something to talk. Instead, he stopped touching her, but didn’t make a move to untie her.
“Why’s that?” He asked. To be fair, she hadn’t said seashell.
She took a deep breath. “I’m kind of nervous about not being able to move. Out of control, you know?”
“Isn’t that the reason you wanted to be tied up in the first place?”
“Well, yeah. But I think I changed my mind.” She knew she was panicking but she couldn’t help it.
“Grace,” he said firmly. “Take a breath. The reason you’re freaking out is because you’re trying to move and you can’t. All you have to do is stop struggling. Let me take control. Don’t be a backseat driver.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” she said, pathetically.
She could hear the wicked grin in his voice. “That’s the point. That’s why you’re tied up, because you don’t know how to relinquish control. I’ll teach you, if you let me.”
Her pussy was dripping wet at all the talk of him being in control and her helplessness. It was like her body was ready to go, but her mind wasn’t convinced yet. She wanted it so desperately. Wanted to enjoy this fantasy that she craved. Maybe she needed to ignore her rational mind for once.
“Okay.”
“That’s my girl. You just tell me ‘stop’ if I’m wrong.” He slapped her ass playfully. “I’m not though.”
She laughed. He went back to going down on her, wrapped his hands around her thighs, and pulled her tight against his mouth. Grace just focused on breathing and on not fighting against the restraints like a caged animal. After a few seconds, she began to relax. He was right—focusing on what she couldn’t do instead of what was happening had been the thing freaking her out.
And now, paradoxically, having his strong hands on her, holding her right where he wanted her, calmed her down. She took a deep breath to quiet her mind, and his tongue traced up and down her clit, then inside her for a brief second, then back up. The pattern was mesmerizing. She fell into a kind of trance, where the world melted away and there was only his mouth on her. The utter helplessness she felt at being tied up heightened her senses and took her breath away.
She moaned.
“I knew you’d start enjoying yourself.” He sounded self-satisfied.
He picked her up and flipped her onto her back. Because of the way her legs were tied, doubled back on themselves, she couldn’t straighten her legs and was forced to leave them spread in the air. There was no way to put them down on the bed without doing a split. She felt even more vulnerable and exposed than before.
He moved his attention to her chest. “Has anyone ever told you, you have perfect breasts?”
She laughed. “No.”
“It’s true.” He swirled his tongue around her nipple. “I’m a tits guy, and you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.”
Even if he was lying, she didn’t care. The fact that he’d said it at all was enough. The fact that he was, as he said, obsessed with her was enough to make her stomach flip-flop.
He bit her nipple, and she gasped.
“Do you like it rough, Gracie?” His voice was low and mocking. It was as if Zach-from-work, seemingly an entirely different person from Zach-at-the-cabin, had made a guest appearance. It used to make her blood run cold to hear that voice. Now, it only cranked her arousal up to eleven. He slapped her breast, then caressed it again. The contrast of pain and pleasure was dizzying, a cocktail more potent than either on its own.
She moaned.
“I think that’s a yes,” he said.
The sun was high in the sky now, and the air in the bedroom was beginning to feel stagnant and humid. Cicadas buzzed. Zach disappeared momentarily from her line of sight and returned in an instant, with a little pod in his hand.
“What’s that?” She asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re so sheltered you don’t know what a condom is,” he teased.
She laughed. “I didn’t know they came in pods like coffee creamer.”
“They don’t usually,” he said, ripping open the package and putting it on. “These are from Japan. They’re the best condoms in the world. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Do they live up to the hype?” It was simultaneously surprising and the most obvious thing in the world that there were fancier condoms than the brands they sold at CVS, and that Zach would buy them.
“You tell me,” he said. He bounded toward her on the bed, then surprised her by lifting her up by the armpits and onto his lap until she was straddling him. “Ready?”
She nodded, breathless with anticipation. She was preoccupied with his face, just inches from hers. The glint of excitement in his eyes, how his hair stuck to his forehead along his hairline from the heat. He smelled like sweat and sex and yesterday’s cologne and it was the best smell in the entire world.
His cock slid into her, and it was like the world cracked open. He positioned his hands on her back to keep her steady and pressed his hips against hers until his entire length was inside her. It was deeper than last night. He felt huge inside her, everything impossibly stretched. She moaned, overwhelmed with desire, even though what she wanted was already there.
He pumped his cock into her. Straddling his lap like this was so much more intimate than last night when he was behind her. Now, with their faces just inches away from each other, staring him in the eyes, she felt much more vulnerable. Like she could really see him in a way that was much more real than ever before.
The cicadas were buzzing louder now, and faraway, a lifetime away, there was a splash in the lake. These things barely registered in her consciousness. What did was Zach’s torso, shiny with sweat and his shoulder and chest muscles flexing with every thrust. It was insanely sexy.
* * *
Zach
Grace was so gorgeous like this. Tied up. Helpless. Vulnerable. Fucking her on his lap was fun, but it was awkward to get a good angle. He tipped her over on her back so he was over her. Her legs stuck straight up in the air—like missionary with a twist.
He fucked her harder now, going deep on every stroke. She looked like she was getting close to coming, and he couldn’t wait to blow her world into smithereens. She liked it when he got a little rough, a little mean. And lucky for her, that was his specialty.
He wrapped a hand around her throat. He didn’t squeeze—didn’t want to scare her. Not too much at least. She moaned. He couldn’t help but smirk.
“Such a dirty girl,” he whispered.
He was so impressed with her. It was brave, honestly, that she trusted him enough to do this. He didn’t just have sexual power over her. In this dynamic, he had all the physical control too. Not that it was all that different from when she wasn’t tied up, in terms of power. The thing most women don’t realize, is how much stronger most men are than them. How much men have to hold back when a woman says she likes it rough, to not seriously hurt her. Even if Grace’s limbs were free, he could overpower her without breaking a sweat. He could do anything to her. Anything earth-shatteringly good and anything completely fucked-up. The fact that any woman trusted any man enough to get into bed with him at all was mind-boggling.
Power is always sexual, no matter what anyone says. And god, did Zach love power. He’d spent too many years of his life feeling powerless and was making up for lost time. Having this power over Grace, total control of what happened right now, was the best he’d ever felt. He wanted to make sure she enjoyed every last ounce of it. He was attuned to her every breath, every twitch of her mouth, to give her exactly what she needed.
“Are you going to come for me?” He said.
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were screwed shut, too engrossed in the sensation.
He slowed down his rhythm. “What’s going to make you come, baby?”
She still didn’t answer. He slapped her breast, lightly.
“I want to come,” she breathed. She opened her eyes. She was desperate. He loved it.
He slowed down so much he almost stopped fucking her. She whimpered. He had her exactly where he wanted her. A mess of a girl under his spell, totally powerless and wanting nothing more in the world than his cock. And a girl who was so far gone she was about to have the best orgasm of her fucking life.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me what you want, Gracie.” He was taunting her, using the nickname he knew she hated. He pulled all the way out of her.
“I want you,” she whispered. She was still shy about it, even now. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easy.
“What part of me do you want?” He pinched her nipple, rolled it between his fingers. She pushed against his hand, desperate for stimulation.
“I want your cock,” she said. He loved watching her struggle, her hips moving against the bed, humping thin air.
He traced a finger from the dip in the middle of her collarbone all the way down to just above her clit. She shivered at his touch. “What’s the magic word?”
Frustration finally won out over self-consciousness, and she snapped.
“Goddammit, fuck me, Zach. Please, I’m begging you. Please. Make me come.”
And there it was. He smiled. Everything he always wanted. Grace, begging for his cock. The moment was so much better than he ever could have imagined. Because instead of hate-fucking her like he told himself he was going to do, he was enamored with her, in awe of her, wanted to worship at the altar of Grace. And the fact that he could make her feel this way? That she wanted him this badly? It made him feel like king of the world.
“All right, since you asked so nicely,” he said. He entered her again, and she let out a relieved moan of satisfaction, relaxing into the bed.
He got back into the rhythm. She had her eyes screwed shut like she was concentrating hard, and whether it was conscious or not, she was nodding her head. He touched her clit, massaging it side to side. She moved her hips in time with his, pressing against him at the deepest part.
“Fuck, Grace. You’re incredible.”
“Zach.” It was half whisper, half moan.
“Come for me, baby.”
And just like that, she began to curl up toward him. He leaned down so their chests were touching and
didn’t stop fucking her.
She moaned, and it turned into a scream. “Zach.”
Hearing her say his name as she came, the feeling of her pussy squeezing around him, he couldn’t hold off any longer either. He came in a blinding white haze of pleasure. His vision blurred at the intensity of it, an explosion of feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He pulled out and collapsed next to her on the bed, reaching for her and pulling her close to him.
Her body was so soft and warm. Her breath on him felt so good, he could fall asleep right now. But she was still tied up and the condom was still on his softening cock. He pulled it off and disposed of it, then set to work untying her.
Chapter Eleven
Grace
Grace shivered, the aftershocks of the orgasm still rolling through her like a receding tide. Zach had already jumped up and was working on untying her legs.
“How are you?” He murmured. He planted a kiss on her thigh.
“Wow,” she said. Her voice was thick, like she’d just woken up. “That was crazy.”
“Good crazy?” He made quick work of the first leg, and in just a few seconds, it was free. She hadn’t noticed how sore she was getting from being in the same position for so long.
“Ow,” she said. She fully extended the leg straight up and rolled the ankle, reveling in the stretch. “Yes, definitely good crazy. Amazing crazy, actually.” Even that felt like an understatement. She didn’t know anything could feel that good.
He pulled the rope off her other leg, and she was officially half-free. She stretched that one too, groaning with the ache and the pleasure of the stretch. Zach kissed the bottom of her foot, then playfully bit her toe.
She let out a play-shriek. “Don’t put that in your mouth! I was barefoot in a parking lot last night.” It seemed like ages ago. A different lifetime, when she wasn’t even sure Zach would rescue her. She was flooded with affection toward him. After all the craziness of the night before, and then the secondary craziness of the sex, and now he was gently kissing her like she was made of tissue paper.