Knowing the Ropes

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  She looked like she was trying to fight off a chuckle but failed. “Yeah, I guess so.” Then she took a deep breath and got a look of steely determination on her face. “About as much as I would have,” she added, her voice softer, swift as if she had to let the words out fast or they’d never get out at all, “if I’d admitted to the guy who was all ‘love and BDSM don’t mix’ that I was falling for him. But I might as well get it out in the open so we can figure out where to go from there.”

  She loved him! Or she was falling for him, anyway, which was at least three steps in the right direction.

  Then he focused back on the earlier fight. “Then why did you laugh it off when I tried to tell you I loved you?”

  She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, looking like a particularly cute Fury. “Because you sounded mad as hell when you said it! Usually when you say that and mean it, it’s not in the same tone as ‘get out of my face, you psycho bitch’. Wouldn’t be the first time someone said something they didn’t really mean to stop an argument.”

  “Who told you…” He realized his fists were clenching, his body poising to fight, as if he wanted nothing more than to strangle or deck whoever it was who had lied to Selene about something so important.

  She must have caught it too, because she flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked away. “No one,” she said, almost imperceptibly. “I did it to someone.”

  He’d have expected his fists to unclench, but he still felt like punching whoever had pushed her to that point. “Tell me,” he said, surprised by how much of an order it sounded, even though that wasn’t his intent.

  “Will, this guy I was dating back in Rochester. He’s a great guy. Molly was so into him, and my mom—they just loved him and thought he should be The One, with capital letters. He’s good-looking, smart, really sweet. Eager to please, would do just about anything for me. Wanted kids, and soon. The kind of guy that a woman’s supposed to want.”

  “Except you didn’t.”

  “No. And I felt terrible.”

  Nick ventured a smile. “Let me guess. He was a gentle, tender lover. Always.”

  She nodded, a bit ruefully. “Most women would have been thrilled. I mean, he was cuddly and romantic and loved cunnilingus. What’s not to like, right?”

  “Except that’s not who you are.”

  “No. But he wanted me, bad, and the sex being so-so didn’t seem like a good reason not to want such a great guy, and I hate hurting people’s feelings. He pushed and pushed for a commitment, but always in the sweetest way, and I couldn’t think of a good way to say no. So I said yes. And the next thing I knew we were living together and planning a wedding, and I think by that time we both knew we’d be miserable together. For one thing, we’d both defer to the other so nothing ever got decided. He wasn’t weak or dumb, but he really wanted me to be the strong, in-charge one, and that’s just not me. At least not all the time. Maybe I should introduce him to Vicki,” she added wickedly, naming one of their domme acquaintances. “I think I remember her saying something about her ideal guy being orally fixated and into being a stay-at-home dad someday, and I think Will would be great at that.”

  “So even before you were really aware you were a sub, you knew you didn’t want to be the one in charge. Interesting.”

  She blinked as if she’d expected a different, perhaps more violent, reaction. “Not all the time. I’m…I’m not Natalie. I couldn’t live that way. I’m not sure I could be like Alison, even. I like my independence. And I need to work with battered women. But I also know it’s only part of me, that part of me also needs to yield, needs to surrender. Needs roughness and wildness and control—but mostly in the bedroom or leading back to the bedroom. If anything, I need the release so I can keep sane while doing something as stressful as helping battered women get their lives back. I don’t know what that makes me.”

  She backed up to the rocking chair and sat down abruptly as if saying all that had taken a lot out of her. Then she blinked and seemed to wait for a reaction.

  Nick crossed to her, crouched down in front of the chair, put his hands on the arms. Waited while he formulated the right way to answer.

  “A woman I could love,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “You still don’t believe me, do you? Maybe this will help.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

  Her eyes were wide when he let her come up for air again, pupils dilated with need, lips swollen from the force of the kiss. “That proved…something,” she said dreamily. Then she blinked and added, “I thought you wanted a slave, eventually. Natalie said…” Blinked again. “But Natalie isn’t exactly a reliable source. I know that. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  Nick shook his head. “Once, I did want a slave. Total control, total ownership. It makes a great fantasy.”

  “From the other side too.”

  “For a long time, I thought it was my ideal, the thing I should strive for. It’s the ultimate expression of dominance and submission, and I’m the kind of person who likes the ultimate…whatever.”

  Selene laughed. “That makes two of us. I’m following you way too well here.”

  “For some people”—Nick gestured around the room in illustration—“it works. Garth and Alison have a great thing. But it’s their thing. We could have a great thing too, but a different thing. One that works for us.” He paused, then added, “If you still want to, that is. I was a real ass tonight.”

  “Yeah, you were. And so was I. I was a jealous cow, and you were angry, and we both jumped to conclusions.”

  “I hurt you.” He took her hands. “Natalie would say a dom doesn’t have to apologize, but sometimes we do—if only so we can live with ourselves. And this is one of those times. I’m sorry. I know better than to play when I’m angry, and I wasn’t controlling myself as well as I should have. I pushed things way too far.”

  She bowed her head, tried to hide her face in her shoulder, muttered something he couldn’t catch.

  “What?” Very gently, he took her chin in his hand, turned her head. “What did you say?”

  Her face was flaming red, a blush—or maybe a flush—extending down into her cleavage. “I loved some of it,” she whispered.

  He felt his own face flush at the bald admission.

  “I didn’t like the anger. I could feel the anger, wasn’t sure how in control you were, and that scared me. And humiliation just pisses me off. But being tied up like that…and the paddling…and the cane. My God, the cane. It hurt like crazy, and while it was going on, it was almost too much. But at the same time, I could see where…” She took a deep breath as if gathering her courage. “I’d like to try it again sometime, but…slower, if that’s the word I want. Give me time to get used to the feeling.”

  She bit her lip and shifted in the chair. She flinched a bit as she moved, but her face looked curiously content despite the flinching, as if her ass was sore but pleasantly so. “I can’t believe I’m saying that. I don’t even know if we should be together. If we should be doing this stuff.”

  “Of course we should.” He said it with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt. “Why shouldn’t two consenting adults who love each other…”

  “I think maybe that’s what’s scaring me. As long as I could tell myself it was just casual and any thoughts of love were incredible sex warping my mind, I could cope. Wanting you to do hot, nasty things to me was just all good clean dirty fun. But it’s more than that. I want you tell me what to do and…make me yours somehow. More than I expected, more than I ever thought I’d want. And I love you and you say you love me and how does that work? I know it can, but how? Now it all seems more complicated and darker somehow. I never knew I could want that much pain. Never knew I could need so much. Never knew I could like being treated that harshly. And never knew I could be so in love that thinking I’d lost you tonight hurt more than anything you could possibly do to me.”

  She began to sob, helplessly, hopelessly. Nick fr
oze, not sure what he should do, although all his instincts called out to take her in his arms.

  But some instinct on her part drew her to him, made her throw her arms around him, snuggle close against his chest.

  The rocking chair tipped too far as her weight shifted. She pitched forward.

  They both ended up lying on the floor, her sprawled on top of him, laughing while she cried.

  Nick’s brain was going in six different directions, trying to figure out what to do next, how to handle all these new complications.

  Nick’s body and heart were more straightforward. A beautiful woman lay on top of him, soft in his arms, still smelling of rut and sobbing as though her heart was shattered? Arms go around sobbing woman. Lips nuzzle her ear in a comforting way, murmur soothing noises like those you might make to a dog during a thunderstorm or to a child woken from a nightmare—no sensible words, just crooning. Cock twitches, starts to harden. Doesn’t get too insistent because of the tears, which seem to be serious tears, not the cathartic kind that can happen during great scenes, but starts to get ready just in case the warm, musky, soft woman decides that, being pressed against a hard male body, she might find something better to do than cry.

  And heart reaches out in its own way, embraces her, vows to keep her safe, even though, his brain tries to remind his heart, he caused her problem in the first place.

  Finally she quieted, both tears and laughter burned out.

  “I love you,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I’ll never hurt you again.” She flashed a ghost of a smile. “Not that way, anyway. Only good ways.”

  She sniffled, then wiped her eyes on the back of her hand like a little girl. “You can’t promise someone that. Stuff happens. Things go wrong. People do dumb things. We both did tonight—all along, I guess, not being more upfront about some of the stuff in our pasts. And we will again. It happens in any relationship, but it seems there’s a whole new level of dumb possible, as well as a whole new level of fun, when you start playing with dominance and submission. I saw it with Natalie, but it’s easy to look at her mistakes…”

  “And think you couldn’t possibly be that boneheaded.” He kissed her forehead. “And we couldn’t. That doesn’t mean we won’t come up with our very own stupid stuff, but I promise I’ll never lock you in a closet while I’m at work or tell you you’re too fat and refuse to feed you. Especially not if you weigh a hundred pounds.”

  “Yeah, and hands off my shoes, buddy!” she mock growled. Then, suddenly sober, “But things like tonight—how do we keep them from happening?”

  Nick opened his mouth to say, I don’t know, but Alison’s voice, outside the bedroom door, answered. “You talk. You talk a lot.”

  “How much did you hear?” Nick said at the same time Selene said, “You were listening?”

  “Only to the last sentence. Okay, last two. Hands off my shoes caught my attention while I was passing and then…”

  “Well, you might as well come in,” Nick said reluctantly.

  “It’s your bedroom, and we did take it over.”

  She opened the door, peered in, saw them heaped on the floor. “Well, that looks promising.”

  “Uh…maybe?” Selene said. “A lot better than earlier, anyway.” She sat up, running her hands down Nick’s torso as she did, as if reluctant to let go. “So that’s the solution to everything—talking a lot?” She sounded dubious.

  “In any relationship, I think, but especially if there’s BDSM involved, because that adds a whole new level of ways to confuse each other.”

  Selene laughed. “We were just talking about that.”

  “Just talk?” Nick said. “I knew that. I mean in theory. It even makes sense. But it never worked with Natalie, so I got out of the habit. She didn’t want to let on anything might be wrong until it was far too wrong to fix it, and she’d go ‘la-la-la’ if I had anything to say that didn’t fit the Master Mold.” He realized he was saying it with caps on, the way Natalie always said certain words.

  “Well, Natalie’s…”

  “Batshit?” Alison suggested.

  “I was going to say ‘not me’,” Selene said tactfully. “Is ‘batshit’ the correct clinical term?”

  “I’m not sure what the correct clinical term is. I’m a medical administrator, not a doctor. But speaking as her friend, the girl is running from something that’s eating her up inside. She doesn’t need a master right now. She needs a therapist. Preferably one who’ll understand that once she gets more stable, she’ll still need a master, or at least want one.”

  “It’s like she’s scared to think too much and wants someone else to do it for her. Whether he’ll do a good job or not.”

  Alison nodded. “Exactly. And now that we’ve solved Natalie’s problems for her, I’ll leave you again to solve yours.”

  She withdrew.

  “Talking, eh?” Selene said.

  “Yeah. Communication. We talked about that the first couple of times. Then I guess we got swept up.”

  “A lot of things are hard to say to someone you don’t know all that well, and we went awfully fast from strangers to…whatever we are.”

  “Lovers. We’re lovers. A couple. A couple that has a few things to work out, sure, but what couple doesn’t?”

  “A couple. I like the sound of that.” She snuggled against him. “I like that a lot. But if we’re a couple”—she looked up, grinned, and even though her face was still blotchy and swollen and her hair was a crazy mess, Nick thought she’d never looked more beautiful—“will you still spank me and flog me and stuff?”

  “Hell yes! If you still want me to.”

  “Hell yes! And set rules that are meant to be broken so I can get ‘in trouble’.” She made air quotes. “And make me give you lots and lots of blowjobs, and tie me up and fuck me, and all that other good stuff we’ve already tried. Other stuff too, but we’ll figure that out together as we go along.” Her smile was one of pure erotic glee—a bit at odds with the tearstains, but it went directly to Nick’s groin. Blood pumped, hardening his cock, tightening his balls, sending waves of lust to short-circuit his brain.

  “I have a few suggestions,” he said throatily. “We could try some of them now…” Then he looked around, reminded himself where he was. Garth and Alison might pride themselves on accommodating their guests, but taking over their bedroom to kiss and nibble Selene’s bruised and tender bottom, lick her to a series of screaming orgasms, and then fuck her senseless might be pushing it.

  Especially since once he got started, Nick had no intention of letting Selene out of his arms until sometime late the next morning, when hunger would compel them from bed.

  Long enough to eat something other than each other and then get back at it.

  “By now, of course, I mean, once we get home. But I think we have time for a little taste.” He ran his hands down her ripe body, just skimming her buns, but even that light touch made her twitch.

  “They’re so tender,” she whispered, shivering. “It feels great. I love…” But when he raised her skirt, she shook her head. “Not so fast. Talking, right? I freaked out on you tonight. And I need to explain why, before we get carried away and forget and it just sits there waiting to pop out again.

  “I can handle you calling my body part a cunt—but not me. Especially not in that angry voice. And then you tacked on worthless. That is not cool. I’ve told you about Molly. Her rat-bastard father used to yell that at her mom—sometimes at her too—even when other people were around. I didn’t know what it meant back then, but it terrified me. I can’t hear those words, especially not in an angry voice, without wanting to run and hide. Or better yet, hurt the person who’s saying them.”

  Nick felt his heart—so recently put back together that the glue was still wet—crack again. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Play-humiliation is so tricky to pull off I usually don’t try unless my partner asks for it and gives me ideas, but tonight…” He sighed. “Tonight I felt pretty humiliated myself, because
I thought you were rejecting me, telling me I was only good as a rent-a-dom, not a partner. So I was trying to get some of my own back. Stupid. Can you forgive me?”

  There was a second’s hesitation, one that seemed to last longer than a second, than a minute, than a lifetime. Nick counted the beats of his racing heart—only a couple—but it still seemed forever before she answered, “Yes, I can. And you know why? Because if anyone else had used those words, I’d have bolted immediately despite the rope and probably kneecapped him on the way out. But I trust you, Nick. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to roll with it, because deep down I must have known that if I did break, you could put me back together. Even though I was afraid you’d reject me for breaking when I did.”

  “Never be afraid to safe-word. I don’t want you to be harmed, not ever. And if something does touch a nerve, I promise to be there and help you work through it. Always. Forever.”

  This time, when he touched her, kissed her, it was to comfort.

  At least that was the intention.

  But they both caught fire.

  Bodies pressed together as if they’d been apart for years. One of Selene’s small, strong hands sliding down his waistband, gripping and stroking his hard length. He raised her skirt, and this time, she didn’t resist but spread her legs to give him better access. Her pussy was like molten lava, hot, thick juices flowing, and she bucked against him almost immediately, stifling a cry by biting into his shoulder.

  Within record time, she’d found a condom in her purse, and he was in the rocking chair with his fly unzipped, a blazing erection sticking up, and Selene was straddling him. No extended foreplay, no games of pain and pleasure, just an overwhelming urge to mate, to merge.

  Her warm, soft pussy opened, and she slid down onto him with one quick wiggle. Velvet and honey, he thought nonsensically. Then she whispered, “I bet they have a chair like this for a reason,” and started it rocking. He gave up even nonsensical thought as a lost cause.

  Back and forth, the movement of the chair assisted them, raising him to meet her tightening pussy, pulling them apart, then bringing them together, a slow, steady, delicious friction that—if they had been somewhere other than someone else’s bedroom—they could have kept up forever, or at least a good chunk of forever. “Move me,” she gasped. “Need more.” He dug his fingers into her delicious, rounded hips and complied, slamming her down onto his cock over and over again, letting her clit grind against his pubic bone. He could feel her starting to contract again, to tighten around him, and his own body rose to answer, wanting to explode with her.