by Kit Tunstall
“The choice is yours. I will not force you.” He set aside all of the ties, except one. “You are not a woman who submits easily. You require assistance. I want to bind your hands and feet.”
“No!”
He continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I will tie you to the posts of the bed, spread-eagle. If you consent, it is for however long I want. I won’t release you until I decide to untie you, unless you say fermati. If you do, I’ll immediately untie you and leave.”
A shiver of fear worked its way up her spine. Regan frowned, wondering if she were straying beyond the borders of fun and games with this man. He was so intent, so serious about dominating her. What if he had something more than sex on his mind? And did she have to choose between complete submission and having him at all? How unfair was that?
“What does it mean, this fermati?”
“You stop.” One side of his mouth lifted as he looked down at her. “Or you can tell me to go. I won’t be angry.” A gentle smile curved his face. “I will regret I didn’t get to make love to such perfection, that I didn’t get to taste that patch of blonde curls between your thighs, but I will harbor no ill will. Some find it impossible to submit. I am one.”
He held out the tie to let her see it. “This will hold you very well until I’ve finished. Go ahead, touch it.”
Regan hesitantly touched the cool black beads, trailing her fingers down the strand to touch the velvet fringes. They were soft to the touch, but she knew only Dante would be able to free her if she consented. She would never work herself loose. A scene from Gerald’s Game—her only attempt at reading Stephen King—flashed through her mind, reminding her the restraints could be as inflexible as handcuffs.
She eyed it uncertainly, and then switched her gaze to Dante. She saw tenderness in his expression, and a barely contained sexual energy. He positively throbbed with desire, but it wasn’t an oppressive sensation. Rather, it increased her own need as she sensed his urgency. She sighed and closed her eyes, laying her head against the pillow. “Don’t go.”
He must have interpreted the words as her consent. He lifted one of her hands to the bedpost. “Hold on.”
Regan grasped it as the beads slithered across her arm. She opened her eyes and turned her head when she felt him wrapping the beads around her wrist. As she watched, he wound them around three times, until only a foot or so of play remained, aside from the fringes on each end. Those, he tied around the post.
“Jerk on it, but carefully. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
She made a half-hearted attempt to liberate herself, surprised by the way the tie resisted her attempts to pull free. She increased her efforts, but the beads and velvet held her well. “I can’t free myself.”
He nodded with satisfaction and tied her other wrist in the same fashion, before moving to her feet to repeat the process. Regan tried to remain calm, but she felt a moment of panic as he secured her last limb to the bed, splaying her wide. She stiffened and tugged at the restraints, feeling like a drowning swimmer.
Dante’s hands were gentle as they settled on her calves. “Relax, Regan. You’re fine. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”
As he stroked her leg, her breathing settled, and the sensation of panic faded. She had the safe word to fall back on if things got too weird, so she should just try to enjoy herself. She didn’t know how much fun it would be to surrender total control, but Dante’s strength made her willing to try not being the one in charge for the first time in a long time.
“How are you? Are you with me?”
She nodded, taking another deep breath. “Yes, I’m fine.” She was more than fine, she discovered with a start of surprise, as calm returned. A tingle of excitement spread through her, and the bonds on her wrists and ankles seemed to be massaging her, rather than restraining her. She couldn’t deny the thrill she got from lying helpless before him, awaiting his next move with mingled dread and anticipation.
Dante seemed to be in no rush as he unsnapped the crotch of the teddy to stroke her dripping pussy. He flirted with her clit, but didn’t touch it. He brought both hands between her thighs and spread apart her lips. He bent down to within inches of her pussy, studying her for a long moment before he blew a light puff of air across her clit.
Regan jumped with surprise and pleasure, feeling the bonds tighten as she stiffened. She bit down on her tongue to resist pleading with him to taste her. She knew he wouldn’t pay attention to her request—might even deny her completely if she asked. She couldn’t hold back a whimper as he released her and stood up.
The bed dipped as Dante sat on the side and stretched out beside her, with his feet dangling off the bed near her head. His face was inches from her pussy when he finished shifting, and once again, his breath fanned across her inflamed flesh.
She cried out with pleasure when Dante’s tongue darted inside her pussy, pushing between the lips probing for her clit. She arched her hips and tried to spread her thighs wider, but there wasn’t enough slack in the ties to allow much movement. She balled her hands into fists as he flicked a series of caresses against her clit. One of his hands dropped to her stomach, but he made no move to touch her breasts or bring the hand down lower to assist his mouth.
Her thighs spasmed as Dante swirled his tongue around her clit before sweeping to probe her opening. Still, he didn’t use his fingers, and she squirmed, aching for him to fill her.
A small cry tore from Regan when he grazed the sensitive bud with his teeth, applying enough pressure to almost hurt. She pulled absently at her bonds, seeking to push his head between her thighs and order him to get serious.
He must have been aware of her thoughts, or maybe the sound of the beads rubbing against the brass headboard alerted him, because he chuckled against her pussy, sending tiny vibrations through her. “Be patient, Regan,” he said, withdrawing. He sat up to stare down at her, but his expression revealed none of his emotions.
He lifted one of her generous breasts in his hand, and it spilled over. Dante rubbed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, applying enough pressure to add an edge to the pleasure.
To her frustration, the caress was all too brief. He released her breast and trailed his hand under to the lacey teddy pushed down past her breasts. His hand slid inside, and he raked his nails lightly across the skin of her stomach, causing her to quiver inside. His tongue followed the path of his hand as he dipped his head, pausing briefly to lave her nipple before moving on. He pushed the material down a few more inches and swirled his tongue across her exposed flesh.
He paused to trace two of her ribs with his tongue before lifting his head. Dante squeezed her ribcage lightly. “Tell me you have condoms and lubricant, cara mia, because I do not want to tear myself away from you even for the few moments it would take to run to my suite.”
Under his hand, she grinned at the genuine hint of impatience she heard in his tone. “There’s a box in the black zipper case by the sink in the bathroom. I don’t have lube though.”
He sighed as he stood up. “I will just have to arouse you to the point where your pussy drenches me.”
His words caused her pussy to spasm, and she writhed impatiently as she waited for him to return. She wondered if he planned to fuck her already, and she didn’t know how she felt about that. When she made the time for it, she liked to draw out the foreplay, but couldn’t deny her pussy ached for a cock. No, not just any cock. She only wanted Dante’s.
He returned soon, carrying the box and a travel-size bottle. “Baby oil will do for what I have in mind.”
A flash of worry tugged at her when he said that, but she took a deep breath, reminding herself she could always say fermati. Her eyes widened when Dante set the items on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed. He straddled her lightly, supporting his weight on his knees rather than on her stomach or chest, as he slid higher.
She almost broke her silence when he leaned over to reach for the baby oil. A slight sound broke from her when he un
capped the bottle and drizzled the slick substance across her breasts. She watched with curiosity as he poured some on his hands and rubbed them together before returning the opened bottle to the nightstand, seemingly unable to put the cap back on with slippery hands.
She closed her eyes and arched her back as he began to knead her breasts. His touch was firm and forceful, but the roughness elicited a response of pleasure, rather than pain. Helpless moans broke from her as he glided his thumbs across her nipples in simultaneous small circles.
Her eyes opened when Dante’s hands dropped away, and she lifted her head to see what he was doing. She watched as he lubed his cock with his slippery hands, and she realized what he intended as he scooted higher up the bed, until his knees were tucked in along her ribs. “Dante—“
He paused. “Do you wish to stop?”
She finally shook her head, still not certain if she wanted him to do this. She had never tried it before, always wondering how it could be pleasurable for the woman.
He shifted into position, placing his cock between her breasts before pushing them together around him. Dante’s first few strokes were slow and hesitant, and he continued to roll her nipples under his fingers as he thrust inside her cleavage.
Regan got lost in the pleasure his hands aroused, surprised to find herself enjoying the feel of his cock stroking against her soft flesh, pushing against her strained breasts, while he never ceased rubbing her nipples. A flood of moisture leaked from her pussy, and she thrust her hips against the air, wishing it were her pussy he was driving into.
His thrusts increased, and his breathing became uneven. Regan opened her eyes and saw his face had flushed with desire, and perspiration beaded his brow. If the ties didn’t hold her back, she would have stroked his buttocks, pushing him harder against her.
“I’m close, Regan.” His voice was a strained grunt. “So close.” He stopped thrusting and sat still for more than a minute. Slowly, he pulled away from her, and his hands went to the ties binding her wrists.
She looked up at him with confusion, worried he had changed his mind for some reason. “What…?”
“I’ve decided you don’t need the teddy.” He made short work of the bonds on her arms and legs, and then assisted her with removing the teddy when her fingers trembled. She started to lie back, but he held her in a sitting position. “Stand up, Regan.”
Her legs were shaky as she rolled out of bed and stood. She leaned against the post at the foot of the bed, resisting the urge to bury her fingers in her pussy and bring about a climax. Every movement made her exquisitely aware of the swollen state of her clit, and she was seconds away from begging him to take her.
“You can lie down now.”
Regan sat on the bed and started to lean back, but he stopped her. “No, lie on your stomach.”
She was too frustrated to argue. She only hoped Dante planned to finish this soon, because her pussy felt close to exploding. She rolled onto her hands and knees and scooted up the bed, lying down with her stomach elevated by the pillows Dante placed under her.
When he retied her hands, he bound them with one tie, together in front of her, and then looped it through the bar in the middle of the brass headboard. She couldn’t see what he did as he moved behind her, but she soon felt him tie her feet apart from each other.
She heard him walking around the room and turned her head in his direction. She arched a brow as she saw him stop by the writing table, eye it for a moment, and pick up something he held against his leg so she couldn’t see it.
The awkward angle hurt her neck, so she rested her cheek against the pillow as nervous excitement swept through her.
When he returned to her, her emotions switched more to nervousness after he said, “Let’s play.” She swallowed heavily, wondering what exactly he planned to do to her.
Chapter 3
Regan started with surprise when something soft and ticklish glided down her spine. When it proceeded lower, tracing the crack of her buttocks, she gasped. The thing flicked against her anus with a teasing swipe, before feathering down to brush against the lips of her pussy. “Dante?” She cleared her throat. “What…what is that?”
“Can’t you guess?” There was a thread of amusement in his voice as he parted her lips stroked the object inside her. “Soft, wispy, ticklish…”
His hints didn’t help her come up with the answer. Perhaps it was because she was too distracted by the sensations coursing through her to think. Her pussy convulsed as the thing fluttered into her opening, where he swished it back and forth. She hazarded a guess, certain it couldn’t be. “Is it a feather?”
A warm palm caressed one of her ass cheeks. “Very good.”
She closed her eyes as the feather swirled around her clit, igniting just enough of a reaction to make her squirm and try to thrust her hips, although her feet were bound far enough apart that she had trouble moving her lower body. “Where did it come from?” she asked with a gasp.
“The writing table. It’s a novelty pen, with “Live Your Phantasie” emblazoned on the barrel. It’s supposed to be like a quill.” His voice dropped an octave. “Do you like it, Regan? Do you like how it whispers to your secret places?” As he spoke, he ran the feather across her pussy and back to her anus. He parted her cheeks with one of his hands and smoothed the feather down the crease, pausing to tickle her anus.
She choked on her answer, unable to form coherent words. She tugged at the bindings on her hands, and the safe word hovered on her lips, but she bit it back. As torturous as this was, she didn’t want it to stop. “Uh…”
Dante chuckled, and his hand slipped from her buttocks, taking the feather away too. She stiffened as it glided down her leg. A half-laugh escaped her when he swished it across her ankle. It evolved into a helpless giggle as he tickled the bottom of her foot. She squirmed against the bed, crying for mercy and laughing at the same time.
“You don’t like this?” He sounded too innocent for her to take seriously. He heaved a mock sigh. “Very well. Let’s try something different.”
The feather disappeared from her foot, and Regan tensed again as she heard the clack of beads. A cry escaped her when the fringe of one of the curtain ties slapped against her buttock. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised her.
He flogged her again, and she arched her hips, wishing the pillows were just a bit lower, so she could rub her pulsing pussy against them to find temporary relief. “Don’t stop,” she managed to say when he paused.
“Do you like this?” He caressed her buttocks as he spoke. One of his fingers traced a line across her skin. “I can see faint marks from the velvet. I like seeing that.” He sounded surprised by the revelation. “I want to mark you, Regan. Does that sound strange?”
She frowned. “Do you mean brand me?”
“No.” There was genuine distaste in his reply. “Nothing like that. I just want to be able to look at your ass in the morning and see proof of our night.” The fringe swished across her cheeks in a teasing flash.
“Oh…okay.” Regan held her breath, anticipating the whisper-soft caress of the velvet strands again. Instead, the beads lashed across her buttocks, bringing sharp pain. She cried out and stiffened. Before she could protest, Dante’s hand followed in the tie’s wake, soothing the flesh. She relaxed under his caress, surprised by the way her pussy tightened with renewed need at the punishment and reward.
“How was that? Was it too much? Should I stop?”
A small smile curved her lips at his concerned questions. There was no questioning Dante’s dominant tendency, but he was also a tender lover, eager to please. “I guess you could do it again.”
After a pause, the beads slapped her skin again, but this time, she expected the pain. Her eyes widened when more moisture collected in her pussy. She was slightly discomfited to realize his spanking her was exciting. The pain itself didn’t do much for her, but more what it represented: His control. She couldn’t understand how he could make her so eager to surrende
r it, but she was reveling in the experience.
He alternately spanked and soothed her for a few minutes, until her buttocks stung, and she asked him to stop. Dante didn’t protest. Instead, he fetched the baby oil and massaged it into her cheeks, soothing the sting. “Thank you,” he said a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need him to.
She assumed he would finally fuck her now, but she was wrong. Regan tensed as his slippery fingers probed between her cheeks to rub her anus. He massaged the tight opening externally, at first, before one of his fingers penetrated her shallowly. She gasped at the invasion.
He paused. “Do you like anal play, Regan?”
“I’ve never really done it.” The last few years, her partners had answered to her demands, and her control of them was more arousing than anything they did to her. She hadn’t explored much beyond oral foreplay and a few unusual positions.
“That’s too bad.” His finger pushed in a little farther. “I think I would like fucking your tight ass, but you aren’t ready for that. It takes preparation.”
His voice faded to a drone as his other hand dipped into her pussy to massage her clit. Regan stiffened as his fingers thrust into her anus and against her clit in concert, turning her into a puddle of sensation. A wordless whimpering sound emerged from her throat, but she couldn’t call back the cries of passion.
She moaned when his finger slid completely into her anus, as he moved from her clit to plunge two fingers inside her pussy, thrusting ever deeper. “Dante, please,” she managed to force out, “please fuck me. I can’t take this.”
He laughed, and his fingers withdrew. He walked to the nightstand for a condom, teasing her by putting it on at her eye level. He jiggled his cock jauntily at her, eliciting a grin from her, before disappearing from sight by walking behind her.