by Stella Noir
It won't last. I'm sure.
Our eyes meet. Hers have changed color again. Now that the room is flooded with daylight, they are more blue than green but darker than they were this morning.
Her long eyelashes are painted in thick black, and she added a subtle line on her upper eyelid causing her already big eyes to pop even more, especially since she is not wearing any lipstick.
"Three for trying to untie yourself," I say. "And two for giving me the finger through the camera last night."
She gulps and nods. "Alright. That seems fair."
"Does it?" I ask.
She shakes her head and finishes her coffee. "Of course not."
"Don't say it then."
She shrugs and leans back in her chair, stretching her neck and arms. Her boobs jiggle as she moves, and I am reminded that they haven't gotten the attention they deserve so far.
My cock rises to attention, poking against the fabric of my pants as I think of ways to play with her.
She notices my eyes on her naked body but doesn't seem to dislike it. The way she is stretching on the chair helps me come up with a new idea.
"So, what now?" she asks. "What am I supposed to be doing all day?"
"You seem to be comfortable in that chair," I say. "It doesn't hurt your ass too much?"
She glares at me. "I can handle it."
"How would you feel about being tied to that chair?" I ask.
She lowers her arms and crouches in her chair, hugging herself as if she was seeking protection.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"I know you like the feeling of rope around your limbs," I say. "I want to show you how much better that feeling can be if it's done properly."
She looks at me with an unreadable face.
"Get up," I command.
To my surprise, she jumps up from her chair right away and steps aside, her shoulders pulled up and her arms pressed against the side of her body.
"Pick up the chair and place it beneath the window," I add.
She nods and follows my command. I check out her perky butt as she turns around to carry the chair over to the window. It's red and a little sore, but not beaten up too bad.
She won't need a pillow.
She puts the chair beneath the window, a few feet away from it, exactly where I wanted her to, but it is facing in the wrong direction.
"Oh, no," I say. "Turn it around so it's facing the window. You like the view, don't you?"
She picks up the chair and turns it around, not without casting me a nasty look.
I raise my chin and beckon towards the chair. "Sit."
Liz sits down on the chair in a straight and unnatural position, her feet firmly on the ground and her hands in her lap.
I place myself between her and the window, turning my back to the outside world as I look down on her.
"Can you put your feet on the seat?" I ask.
She looks up at me like a helpless child, unsure what to do.
"Well, can you?" I repeat.
"I don't know..."
"How about you try it, then?"
She sinks a bit lower into the chair and lifts her knees, tucking her feet next to her red behind. The position is not comfortable, but it will get easier for her once I tie her feet up. I am glad to see that she is flexible enough to hold the position even without a rope to keep her in place.
She holds her feet in place with her hands but manages to look up at me, her blue-green eyes asking whether she is doing it right.
The daylight is hitting her exposed center, highlighting the fact that she is enjoying herself more than she lets on.
I cannot wait to let her feel the rope around her limbs.
"Good girl. Stay like this."
I walk over to the dresser and fetch my black rope from one of the drawers.
"Keep your feet where they are, but put your hands behind your back with your wrists to the opposite elbow."
She struggles a little at first but manages to position herself just like I want her. I can tell that it is hard for her to keep the position, though. She is breathing hard, and the grimace on her face displays the strain that goes along with keeping her feet up.
"This will make it easier," I say and quickly tie her right leg up in a frog tie so that her lower leg is bound to her thigh. She moans when I do the same to the other leg and use the rest of the long rope to tie her back against the backrest of the chair.
Her back is slightly arched, and I add another piece of rope to tie it around her chest, above and beneath her round breasts, emphasizing their perfect size and position. Her nipples are erect and pointing upwards, practically begging for torture.
Her breathing accelerated, and the rope cuts into her flesh with every deep inhale she takes.
For a few moments, I just stand there and watch her process the feeling. She has her eyes closed and her head thrown back, with her long hair falling behind the backrest of the chair in beautiful, brown waves.
I knew she would love it.
"How do you feel?" I ask, as I slowly caress along the inner side of her right thigh. She shivers and moans and my touch.
"Good," she breathes.
"Just good, huh?" I ask. "You look like you are about to explode, young lady."
She blushes and presses her eyes shut even more.
I don't say anything further, but move my hand closer to her center. She is spread wide open due to her position, and I know that shame is fueling her arousal just as much as the pain is.
I spread her lips even further and let a finger slide in between them, gently teasing her wet entrance.
"Good, huh?" I repeat, and she shivers with embarrassment. "I don't think you're being completely honest with me here."
She shakes her head helplessly. "Please..."
"Please, what?" I ask.
She groans with pleasure when I add another finger, teasing her clit while spreading her from the inside.
She bites her lips. It is hard to tell whether she doesn't know what to say or if she just doesn't dare to say what's on her mind. It might be both.
I withdraw my fingers which she marks with a disappointed sigh. She opens her eyes and looks at me as I straighten up before her. Embarrassed, pleading and dizzy with lust. Her eyes are half-closed, but her pupils are wide as if she was on drugs.
In a way, she is. This is her first time nearing the state of rope drunk.
I retreat and decide to make it even better for her. The drawers in her dresser provide everything I need to give her what I want.
I choose a few items and return to her, going down on my knees in front of her center. She is squirming and moaning, but still incapable of speaking. Her body flinches when I grace along the inner side of her thigh with one of the toys I produced from the dresser. It is a little vibrating plug that will keep her on a plateau of lust until I decide that it is time for her to come.
I switch it on and circle her swollen labia with it, causing her to groan with pleasure, her legs yanking against the restraints. I circle her most sensitive spot, teasing her endlessly until I finally grant her the pleasure of pressing the vibrating tip directly against her clit.
She throws her head back and moans, squirming so violently that the chair almost falls over.
Then I stop. I withdraw the toy and watch her shiver and breathe, coping with her excitement.
The sight of her drives me insane. My cock is so hard that it almost hurts, fighting against the constriction of my pants like Liz fighting her confinement.
Her foot twitches uncontrollably next to me, a clear sign of her mental state.
"Good girl," I praise her, distracting her for a moment before I push the toy inside of her.
She whimpers with lust as the toy continues to tease her from the inside.
I get back up on my feet to have a better view of her.
"Beautiful," I assess.
Liz opens her eyes to look at me. They are a clear blue now, reflecting the sky outside.
Her lower lip is shivering.
"Open your mouth," I order. "And stick out your tongue."
She obeys instantly. With the state she is in right now, I could probably ask anything of her. She is so close to climaxing, but the way the vibrating toy teases her is just not enough to bring her over the edge.
She opens her mouth and lets her tongue hang out, just like I asked her to. My perfect little bitch in heat.
I rub the hardness between my legs and her eyes follow my hands.
"You are such a perfect slut," I whisper. "Aren't you?"
She looks up at me, breathing heavily and with her tongue still stuck out. Her eyes are glistening and her cheeks are painted in pink, flushed with excitement. I don't think she has ever been this aroused in her life.
Liz doesn't say a thing, but her eyes beg for release. She wants to come. She needs to come.
But I won't let her. Not yet.
A hint of disappointment flees across her face when I remove my hand from my crotch and walk away again.
I need to see something else.
When I return from the dresser this time, I am holding a little leather flogger. It is shorter than my lower arm, and the tails are thin and dainty. It looks rather harmless, but how much pain can be inflicted with it depends entirely on the way it is used.
Liz's eyes flicker when she sees the flogger in my hands. I observe her, expecting protest. But she doesn't say anything, nor does she shake her head.
Instead, she just watches me as I come closer and gently sweep the tails along her thigh, starting from her knee and moving downward to her belly. I move it up, caressing her breasts, which causes her to flinch. Her nipples are hard and erect, rosy little pearls that ask for attention.
The first blow is gentle. I don't imagine it hurt much, and Liz's reaction proves me right. She does flinch, although not in pain, but rather because of tension due to her anticipation.
The second one is stronger, hitting her right on the left nipple. But still, she remains calm.
I increase the power and speed of succession with the third and the fourth stroke. She starts moaning under every single blow, alternately arching and relaxing her back.
Soon, the strokes come one after another, hitting harder than before. Her tits change color, adapting to the rosy cheeks of her butt. Liz starts moaning and yelping; tears are threatening to roll down her cheeks. She is panting and squirming in her restraints. The rope is cutting deep into her flesh, and I know she loves every single bit of it.
I am amazed at her ability to cope with the torture on her nipples, though. They must not be as sensitive as I imagined.
I keep lashing out on them in controlled but strong sweeps. They must hurt like fucking hell and the skin on her chest speaks of the agony she must endure.
"I'm gonna c—"
She doesn't even manage to finish the sentence before her climax takes over. Her eyes open wide. She is staring at the ceiling, overpowered by the aggressive pleasure that takes a hold of her body.
Chapter 7
LIZ
"You little minx," he says.
My vision is blurred, and I am confused.
Did I just come while he was hitting me? That can't be true.
I turn to Leonard, who is standing next to me, still holding the flogger in his right hand. He had just stopped hitting me, moments after my orgasm receded. Something on his face tells me that he didn't plan for me to come like this.
Well, that can't be good.
The toy is still vibrating inside of me, but the sensation is suffocated by my post-climax bliss.
He leans forward and switches it off. I flinch when he pulls it out of me.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I whisper.
He smiles at me.
"For what?"
I blush. "For coming... without permission."
He bends over and plants a kiss on my right cheek.
"Good girl," he whispers. "You should never be sorry for coming."
His gaze darkens. "But you're right, you should be sorry for coming without my permission."
"It was just... I couldn't," I utter, incapable of finding the words to describe what had just happened to me.
He unfastens the rope around my upper body and moves around to loosen the knots around my ankles as well.
I sigh in relief when my limbs are freed, and I can put my feet back on the ground. I straighten up and stretch my arms, legs, and back.
Now that my mind is no longer clouded by lust, I begin to realize the pain my body is in. My arms and legs are sore from being kept in a rather unnatural and certainly unusual position for so long, and my boobs are on fire. I look down at myself, smiling at the red color my skin has taken on. The rope has cut deep into my flesh and left its marks on the skin below my collarbone. I stretch my legs out and examine my ankles. They are painted with deep red lines, a lot more than I ever achieved by myself.
Leonard watches me while he rolls up the rope.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
I look up at him, smiling. “Thank you. Thank you, Master.”
He reciprocates the smile, which causes a few awkward moments of us beaming at each other like young lovers. I have never seen him smile like that before. There is nothing cunning behind it, as it has usually been. He just looks… happy. Like a normal person.
“Come,” he says, lifting me up by hooking his arms below my armpits.
I make a move to stand, but he switches the position of his hands and sweeps me off my feet as he lifts me up. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck and cast him a confused look, which he ignores.
He carries me back to the bed and lays me down on the sheets.
“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t attach the leash.”
“I won’t have to if you promise to behave,” he replies.
To my surprise, he lies down next to me, offering me to rest in the crook of his arm.
“I don’t get punished?” I ask. “For coming too early?”
He shakes his head and runs across my abused breast with the tip of his finger. Even this faint touch sends burning stings through my body. I inhale audibly as he does it.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that today?” he asks. “Punishment, I mean.”
“Yes, sure,” I say. “But I’m not the one in charge here.”
He looks at me. His face is so close to mine that I inhale his smell with every breath.
“You know that’s not entirely true,” he whispers.
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Saying that you’re not in charge,” he explains. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you played me. And don’t think I don’t notice when you say things just to please me.”
I swallow hard. I know I shouldn’t be the one who feels bad, but it grieves me to see that he is sincerely sad about what he noticed. And it scares me that he did notice.
Yet, I have to remember what this is. I am his captive. He is going to lock me to the bed for the night. I am not allowed to leave the room, I am not allowed to move freely, and I am not allowed to wear any clothes. In fact, I haven’t seen any of my possessions since yesterday.
“How can you say that when I am your prisoner?” I ask. “Saying things to get on your good side and avoid punishment does not count as being in charge.”
He smiles and caresses my cheek. “You have a point there.”
“Where is all of my stuff?” I ask randomly. It’s a question that has bugged me since I first woke up in this room.
“Here,” he says. “In the house.”
“Can I have it?”
“Of course not.”
I sigh.
“I understand why you wouldn’t give me my phone,” I whisper. “But my clothes? It would be nice to wear something once in a while.”
“I like you naked,” he says simply.
I furl my eyebrows.
“What do you get out
of this?” I ask. “You haven’t even fucked me since I ended up here. Only on the boat, when I still thought we were just on a normal date.”
He chuckles. “Really? Is that what you normally do on a first date?”
“Are you calling me a slut?” I ask indignantly.
His eyes widen. “No, of course not, Liz. What I meant was—”
“Because I’m not!” I interrupt him. “I’ve never done any of the things we did… at least not this fast, not after just meeting. And not like that!”
“I know,” he assures. “I can tell that you are a good girl.”
He sweeps along my cheekbone with the tip of his finger, following my jawline until he reaches my lips. His touch is so soft, so sensual; I cannot help but sigh with relish.
“And I know you hate it,” he whispers while gently pushing my lower lip down. “I know you have cravings that scare you. Cravings that you never speak of. Your dirty little secrets. You are not the shallow doll that your family wants you to be, and you are not the pure, innocent fairy you act like when you are among those people.”
I look up at him, our eyes fixating on each other as he continues to speak.
“I knew from the moment I saw you. That there is more to you, that you are hiding something, and I want to uncover that side. When I say I want to own you, that means so much more than you could imagine.”
“I think I have a pretty good understanding,” I argue.
He shakes his head.
“No, you don’t. Not yet, that is.”
“Not yet, huh,” I breathe. “So how long do you think it will take me to understand?”
He smirks. “Are you asking how long I intend to keep you here?”
I shrug. “That appears to be the same question, yes.”
“A question I haven’t answered before and that I won’t answer now,” he says.
“I would just like to know what it is I can do to get out of here.”
He sighs and makes a move to get up from the bed. I hold him back grabbing his wrist, pulling him back to me.
“I’m not having this conversation any longer,” he says, looking down at me annoyed.
“Okay, okay,” I surrender. “I won’t ask again. But please don’t leave me alone.”