No play date was ever enough. It never could be. There was no single, perfect scene in which Vivienne could do everything she wanted or use him in every way she’d ever dreamed about. More than that, it was the denial itself that frustrated her.
Most of the time she could live with it but it was at times like this that all the desire she kept locked away—shelved for further reference, like a research report or a binder of statistical data—threatened to fall in on her in some gargantuan wave. The opportunity of actually having Ash with her felt impossible and she had to mouth the words to herself “he is here, and he is mine” before they felt real.
When she finally went upstairs, having heard the toilet flush, the water run and the bathroom door close, Vivienne counted every step. She trailed her fingertips over the wooden banister, skimming its thick gloss paint. This house was her work of art, her sanctuary and her sanctum. The landing walls, painted in shades of cozy terra-cotta, cream and taupe, held more framed prints, and the lamp at the top of the stairs cast an oval of warm yellow light across the dark-green carpet.
She knew what she would see when she moved down the hallway, pushed open the white paneled door and entered her bedroom. She savored the image in her mind and, as she stepped across the threshold, Vivienne smiled at the sight she’d been anticipating.
Ash had folded his clothes neatly on the chair that stood in the far corner of the room beneath the window that had its thick drapes tightly drawn. The floor lamp in the opposite corner—the twin of the one on the landing—cast a similar warm, comfortable light across the room, and it flattered Ash beautifully.
He was naked, kneeling beside the blanket chest at the foot of her bed, his hands placed on the centers of his thighs and his head bowed. He was like a sculpture, a perfectly formed, intricate creature in whom the study of life and humanity was caught against a moment of movement. Like a statue of an athlete that, while utterly still, seemed to speak of motion. Directly above him, a small chrome hook hung from the eyebolt in the ceiling that—when Vivienne had first moved into the house—had held a chair hammock.
She’d moved the furniture around, not really had much use for the rather tatty hammock, but the eyebolt was one of her favorite things. Tonight it would provide Vivienne with everything she needed to unfold Ash from that furled, vulnerable kneeling position to a flexed, beautiful immodesty.
She moved crisply past him, not acknowledging his presence as she went first to the nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled out a box of matches. She lit the two soy wax candles and, humming gently under her breath, turned to the bed as she shook out the match. The red nylon rope—its longest pieces wound around the cuffs and ties she had already prepared—sat in the center of the bed and Vivienne picked up the coil, continuing with her tuneless humming as she unwound the different lengths, rehearsing in her mind the knots she would use.
Ash hadn’t moved. She smiled at his dark-golden head, his long, lean back and shoulders forming an attractive tableau as she worked. He would be getting tense with anticipation, wondering what she planned to do, just as she intended.
Ash both loved and feared rope.
He adored being bound in any form and he enjoyed the feel of a good rig against his skin, but she had pushed him before and he knew her deviousness all too well. Vivienne was not above making him tolerate a tough position or binding him in such a way that any pleasure she gave him would result in a punishment. Having him lie on his back with his legs held up and bent, for example, and tying a length of cord between his ankles and his cock. The moment he relaxed or moved in response to whatever devilish thing she was doing to his dick, the rope would tug sharply and his pleasure would devolve into pain. Ash was not a fan of anything more than the lightest pain.
He thrilled to sensation, however, and that was what Vivienne granted him. She crossed the bedroom, the rope swinging from her hands.
“Give me your wrists,” she said, letting her fingers tousle his golden hair softly as she passed.
He obeyed and she slipped the rope cuffs into place, cherishing his sharp intake of breath as she tugged them tight. Ash looked up at her, his hazel eyes wide and shimmering with that perfect blend of trust and excitement.
The candles’ scent of peppermint and vanilla began to rest upon the air, mixing with Vivienne’s gardenia perfume. She smiled.
“Up.”
He stood a little unsteadily, with her holding the rope cuffs that bound his hands. His cock—well-sized but slender, like the rest of him—jutted hopefully from the trimmed foam of golden-brown hair between his legs and he licked his lips as he offered out his arms to her, allowing Vivienne to maintain her grip on the cuffs as she climbed lightly onto the blanket chest.
Being taller than her, it was easy enough for Ash to raise his arms and—with very little effort—get the ties that bound him to slip over the hook. He would be on tiptoe then, rather than fully suspended, as the bedroom ceiling was comparatively low, but Vivienne wasn’t about to let him do it himself. Standing on the chest, she guided him through the maneuver, ensuring the rope slotted properly into the hook and there was enough play in the ties to avoid too much pressure on his wrists.
Once he was secure, standing on his toes with his lean form stretched out for her, his bound hands the single point from which everything flowed, Vivienne stepped down from the blanket chest and stood back to survey her work.
Ash really did look superb. His long, lean legs were, like most of him, pale. Crisp golden hair—rough and almost curly in texture on his shins and lower arms—faded to pale-brown, softer growth on his thighs, while the cleft of his ass and the neat, well-shaped cheeks that framed it were nearly hairless. His slender waist, narrow hips and long, lithe back were stretched out before her like the lift of a flower in bloom, every part of his body a new dish, and Vivienne traced each course of the banquet with her gaze, devouring him by sight.
She knew his form intimately. She knew its curves and its hard, compact angles, from the points of his kneecaps and elbows to the smooth pebbles of his ribs, set beneath warm, pliant flesh. His spine was a fluid column, his waist a cup, those two perfect dimples above his ass twin thumbprints like a maker’s mark on a masterpiece.
You are mine, she had told him once, and I only own things worth having.
His tousled blond head lolled slightly to the side as he adjusted himself to the position and the delicious strain of that tiptoe stretch. She walked around him slowly, making sure he was comfortable and able to sustain it, and he smiled blearily at her, his expression one of thankful peace.
Vivienne nodded in approval, eyeing his taut-stretched chest. The skin of his torso was not quite as pale as everything below the waist. He went shirtless quite often in the summer, prone to picking through the waves in nothing but shorts and a big smile, like a little boy enjoying his vacation. On his left shoulder, a small scar no bigger than her thumbnail marked the legacy of a fall from a tree when he was a child. On his arm there was a vaccination scar and on his right knee a birthmark the size of a quarter, almost the same color as the brown in his hazel eyes.
She picked the suede flogger up from the nightstand, idling it in her hands as she crossed back toward him, making him watch every step of her movements as she paused, maintaining eye contact while she slowly stepped out of her robe. The soft white cotton fell to the floor, pooling around her pink-tipped toes, leaving her in just the ruched vinyl bra and panties, which were already soaked with the arousal he’d brought out in her. Vivienne swung the flogger nonchalantly and the room was quiet enough for its little suede thongs to whisper against the air as she shook her hair out, letting it brush her shoulders before she began to move back to her boy.
Ash whimpered softly, his straining cock blushing and pouting, the flared head wet with eagerness. She smiled, enjoying the way his splayed toes shifted on the carpet, every tendon in the pretty arches of his feet standing out as he tried to gain better purchase on the floor.
Vivienne move
d behind him, trailing the flogger gently down the center of his back, watching the way his body tensed and his breath caught.
“Hold still, sweetie,” she said quietly, and Ash obeyed.
His ass clenched, those cute little butt cheeks dimpling with the sheer effort of not moving.
“Good,” she murmured, reaching out to give his ass a squeeze and then a light swat with the palm of her hand before she returned to trailing the flogger over his body.
Legs, ass, stomach, chest…she teased him for the best part of five minutes, doing nothing but tracing the whip over his flesh with no force or pressure, just waking every nerve in his skin and making his blood pump and his senses shiver. The contrast of the thin suede thongs against his pale hide pleased her but it was impossible to forget her own arousal.
That balled up in her like anger, like irritation, like a frustration that she couldn’t assuage, and Vivienne stalked around her bound boy once more, staring intently at his captive frame.
Ash had started to zone out beneath the soothing touch of the flogger, relaxing to the point that his cock had lost a little fullness, his unfocused expression and the sway of his body speaking volumes about the way the suede’s gently tickling kiss had consumed him.
Vivienne flicked her wrist then, giving him two short, sharp slaps across the ribs. Ash flinched, catching his breath, and her pussy clenched at the look of surprise on his face.
“I’m not your goddamn masseuse,” she snapped. “Pick a number.”
His lean, uneven face contorted as he tried to think through the fuzziness that must have been clouding his mind. He knew this part of the game, though. Vivienne didn’t want to give him more than he could handle, but neither was she about to relinquish her control.
“T-twenty,” he managed eventually, blushing in a most distracting way. “Twenty, Miss.”
Vivienne raised her brows. “Really? You know I’ll add five.”
“Please,” Ash murmured, gazing at her imploringly.
Vivienne shrugged. That word was her weakness. The way he said it, as though it were a breathless little prayer…she could hardly refuse him.
She brought her hand back and began to work his torso. Each stroke crisscrossed its predecessor, the soft suede lashes landing in diagonal stripes across his skin, beating one, two over and over until he began to squirm and moan, his feet scrabbling and his hands tugging at the rope that hung from the hook.
His nipples peaked desperately, rosy nubs crying out for attention, and Vivienne reached out to tweak one sharply, relishing the way it made him flinch and shudder.
Her panties were sodden but the way Ash drank in the sight of her body only made her pussy wetter. His cock jolted as she slapped the flogger against his thighs, pre-cum dripping from the tip.
She counted aloud as she hit him, her voice a firm, authoritative beat in the room’s scented quiet, and he shivered at the words. She knew he was counting along with her, counting with every muscle in his body that flexed and clenched in anticipation of the next lick of suede. Every stroke had him bucking and whimpering, his skin reddened in what must have been hot, tingling lines.
“Twenty-five,” she said finally, landing the final stroke across his ass as he gasped, his thighs twitching a little as if he expected her to break her word and slap him again.
You should know better, sweetie.
“You’re going to hold still,” Vivienne reminded him. “I’m going to get you down and you’re going to lie on the bed. I’m going to truss you up, just the way I want you…and then decide what you may do for me. Do you understand?”
Ash nodded, his lips working around half-finished words.
“Speak up,” she said sharply.
“Pussy,” he managed. “Please, Miss… May I? I want to—I want to make you come.”
Vivienne stepped up onto the blanket chest, frowning as she unhooked his cuffs from the eyebolt and running her fingers over his hands to ensure there was no chilling or mottling of the flesh. His palms curled reflexively, as if he wanted to hold her hands in his, and she pulled away, grabbing his arms as she helped him lower himself to a normal standing posture, giving him a firm yet subtle shove in the back to direct him toward the bed.
“Oh you want, huh?” She injected all the icy venom she could muster into her voice. “You want?”
Ash looked at her over his shoulder, the pinkening of his ass vivid against the pale cheeks, his eyes wide with regret. He was walking a little bow-legged, his bound hands held in front of him, and he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
“I-I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Miss. I— Please?”
Vivienne padded across the room, swinging the flogger in her hand. With every step, the weight of its thongs tapped lightly against her bare thigh. He wanted… He demanded. No. She wasn’t ready for that.
“Lie the fuck down,” she snapped, snatching the coil of red rope from the coverlet.
Chapter Four
It didn’t take Vivienne long to have him tied the way she wanted. She separated Ash’s wrists and bound each one to the bed’s carved posts with French bowlines, allowing him a little room to tug at the smooth, luxurious rope but not enough to free himself…even if he’d wanted to.
She spread his legs and shackled his ankles to the other end of the bed, toying with the idea of binding his knees too until she decided to leave him a little leverage. She knelt across him as she tied a simple harness around his chest, and there was no real reason for that other than it looking pretty and the frustration Ash got from having the wet heat of her pussy pressed to his body as she worked. His cock nudged impatiently at her ass and, holding the knots in place with one hand, Vivienne reached behind her and gave him a gentle two-fingered tap on the shaft.
“Behave yourself,” she teased, smiling at him.
Ash threw his head back against the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth pressed into a tight line as he stifled everything inside him.
Finally finished, Vivienne sat back with a grin, letting her weight rest on her boy’s lean body. He opened his eyes, looking up hazily at her, and she reached out to pat his cheek.
“Good boy.”
Ash’s expression opened into a look of such bliss at those words. His eyes were half-hooded but shining, his whole face soft with love and longing. Vivienne rolled her hips gently, grinding against him and reminding herself of how badly she needed release. Weeks of wanting him led up to nights like this and, as much as she wished to savor it and let it last forever, she couldn’t take the tension too much longer.
“You want this?” she murmured, letting her fingers move stealthily up her thigh, tracing the intersection of their bodies—the places her skin met his and the vinyl-clad pool of heat that rested so heavily against him.
Ash nodded, his hair rustling against the pillow.
“Yes, Miss,” he whispered reverently. “Please. Please, Miss…”
Vivienne raised herself up on her knees, tugging her panties to the side once more as she moved up the bed, bringing herself to his mouth. She reached out to fold her pink-tipped fingers into his hair, making a fist tight enough for her nails to graze his scalp as she thrust her hips forward, crushing her pussy to his open, waiting lips.
Ash groaned happily, hungrily, plunging his tongue into her slit and she sighed, letting her head tip back and her hair hang down between her shoulder blades. The first touch of his mouth was heaven. She was so slick, so sensitive, so desperate for something that his tongue felt like the most dangerous weapon in the world. He cleaved her lips, hot and searching, sliding the length of her slit before he probed inside her, flicking and moaning as he tried to thrust into her depths. Vivienne clenched her hand harder in his hair, making sure he knew where his head was supposed to stay as she moved, grinding herself against his face. She could feel his chin nudge her ass and she spread her thighs wider, pulling him into her.
“Suck my clit,” she commanded, her voice threaded with breathless pleasure.
Ash obeyed, his mouth at once cupping her cunt, applying the gentle suction that drove her insane while his tongue laved her clit. Vivienne growled out her delight, her hips pressing forward as she fucked his mouth, demanding every ounce of pleasure from him. Ash hummed, part groan of abandon and part intention to please her, the vibrations filling her pussy as she ground against his lips. His eyes were squeezed tight shut again, his whole being focused on her core as he nuzzled, sucked and licked, lapping and devouring everything she gave him.
Stars of pleasure burst in Vivienne’s body, her limbs tingling as her head soared and the oblivion of bliss started to edge in on her mind. She grabbed at her ruched vinyl bra with her free hand, yanking the right cup down to expose her breast and digging her nails into the soft flesh, then tugging at her dark-brown nipple. For a brief moment, she almost regretted tying Ash up—she could have done with his hands on her, the feel of his strong fingers on her burning skin—but that passed quickly, especially when he began to struggle against his binds, as eager to touch her as she was to drive herself beyond the point of climax.
He writhed beneath her, his hums and moans mixing with the little cries of pleasure she made as he tongued her cunt in increasing desperation, as though he wanted to inhale her. Vivienne thrust harder against him, tugging at his hair as her pussy trembled, her clit throbbing wildly with the first tremors of orgasm.
“Fuck!” she yelped, crushing herself to his face as she started to come, almost wishing she had somewhere to fall back to instead of needing to keep herself upright.
Of course Ash wasn’t letting go of his prize so easily. He sucked greedily at her clit, wresting a small shriek from her, his mouth cleaving desperately to her lips, his tongue beating relentlessly at her as she shivered and pulsed against him. Pleasure burst in waves through her body, pooling in her limbs until her head felt light and her breath seemed to shimmer.
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