by Violet Blue
I am a true slut, she mused and smiled. Dropping the paddle to the floor, Jade lay beside him, her master, and gently caressed his face. “I love you, Master. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He peered into her eyes. “It’s so intense. My god, is that what it’s always like for you? I felt like my insides were coming out. And, my ass is on fire.”
Smiling, she replied, “Yes, Master, always. Would you like me to get the cream?”
He thought for a moment, and she saw the power in him. “No, I want to experience this, for a while.” He pulled her into his arms, his face buried in her hair. “I love you, Jade.”
Snuggling in, her heart close to exploding with love, she replied, “I love you too, Brian, my husband, my master. You’ve given me such an enormous gift this evening. Thank you.”
“Time for bed, sweetheart. I want to make love to you. If I can.”
Chuckling, Jade stroked his thigh and saw his cock twitch. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
DO YOU SEE WHAT I FEEL?
Teresa Noelle Roberts
I took a deep breath and felt the silky constriction, both comforting and arousing, of the ropes—chest harness, corset, and teasing crotch binding—I wore under my red turtle-neck sweater dress. Erik had suggested the dress for its relative innocence; it was calf length and it skimmed my body loosely enough that you’d have to look twice to make out I wore something unusual underneath. Erik had made sure the ropes weren’t screamingly obvious, just as he’d made sure the shibari was neat and elegant, and that the crotch ropes were tight enough to tantalize me, but not enough to either irritate that most sensitive skin or let me get off before he was good and ready. (Dammit.)
I’d laughed about his precision with the ropes, and the way he chose the outfit so carefully to suggest and yet conceal them. “Ryo’s blind, right? That’s the point of this game. So what does it matter?”
Erik said, “Ryo’s definitely blind. As for the point of this game…” He gave me one of those secretive, naughty smiles of his, the kind that reaches out and tickles my clit. “Other than turning us both on? You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Then he grabbed a strategic knot through the soft knit of the dress and twisted.
The ropes tugged at my labia, pulling them open.
My husband is evil and perverted and I love him for it.
God, I was wet already, slicker than I’d realized. Slick with the caress of ropes and with the knowledge that I was going to be shown off, albeit to someone who might not be aware of it.
I’d probably end up naked save for ropes at some point, naked in front of someone who’d just go on talking with me like nothing was different because he wouldn’t know anything was, wouldn’t know I was bare and bound and by that point most likely dripping in front of him, trying to carry on a conversation while aching for him to leave so Erik could spank me or fuck me or whatever he had in mind as a final round to the game. Erik’s games were always worthwhile in the end.
And always came with an unexpected twist.
I should have known that whatever assumptions I’d made were slightly off.
For instance, I’d imagined Ryo as one of those quietly brilliant Asian American science majors who was now grown up and making big biotech bucks but was still slightly geeky. Probably because, except for the Asian American part, that’s what Erik’s like. He may be wonderfully kinky, but what can I say? When he’s not tying me up and having his wicked way with me, he plays Dungeons and Dragons with a gaggle of other thirtysomething geniuses with similar cases of arrested development. (Including me. Yeah, we have more than a few things in common besides hot sex.)
But the man who came to our door, guided by a golden retriever so well-groomed she practically gleamed…if he’d been in a Japanese movie, he’d have been evil, doomed to a tragic death, or possibly both, because the beautiful men always are. He had sleek, shoulder-length blue-black hair; a body to die for, not much taller than I am, but perfectly proportioned; golden skin, killer cheekbones, and a smile that would have melted my panties if I’d been wearing any. He was dressed all in shades of gray, from his topcoat to his shoes, and just a little too well for a dinner at a friend’s house; I guessed the monotone might be less a fashion statement than a practicality for someone who couldn’t see, but it looked yummy.
There were a few formalities—introductions, taking Ryo’s coat, Ryo taking his guide dog out of harness. (The dog promptly fell asleep—I guess getting Ryo out here on the commuter rail from Boston was quite an adventure.) When that was settled, but before we sat down, I repeated, “Hi, I’m Carla,” and hesitantly extended my hand. I was surprised by how readily Ryo followed my voice and clasped it.
And even more surprised when he said, “May I? I like to see who I’m talking to.” I caught Erik’s eye, saw him nod, and muttered, “Yes.” Ryo’s strong arms drew me in.
He ran his hands up my arms to my shoulders.
Paused where the ropes crossed over, giving a slight grin and nod.
Ran his hands through my hair and down my back, swiftly and lightly, but there was no way he could have missed the ropes under the soft knit.
Or, I suspected, the way I was trembling.
Finally, he raised his hands to my face. Gentle fingertips explored my features: traced my eyelids, feathered over my eyebrows, highlighted the shape of my cheekbones, got to know my nose, cupped my cheeks, outlined my chin.
It was one of the most incredibly intimate things anyone had ever done to me (and believe me, Erik has done a lot of incredibly intimate things to me, including some that are illegal in several Southern states and the District of Columbia).
The ropes seemed tighter, as if my entire body had grown more sensitive, as if my breasts and pussy had swollen from Ryo’s touch on my face.
I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sensation, fighting not to moan. It was just Ryo’s way of seeing, right?
Ryo chuckled deep in his throat. “Erik, you dog,” he said. “You didn’t tell me Carla’s beautiful.”
“Liar. I told you…”
“You told me she was hot, and I agree. But she’s also beautiful. Some women are one and not the other, but she’s both. And I bet she has a very sensual mouth.”
I froze. As he traced the shape of my lips, I struggled not to kiss that sure finger, to lick at it.
It was all too easy to imagine it circling my nipple with the same delicate precision, or—oh, my god, on my clit.
I couldn’t help it. I moaned.
Ryo slipped his finger between my parted lips.
My instincts had all sorts of ideas, but I am married, even if ours is a slightly unusual marriage. I opened my eyes, looked toward Erik as best I could.
He smiled and nodded. Yes. All part of the game, or at least something he was comfortable to make part of the game.
License to play!
I intended to suck that finger like it was a mini-cock, to give Ryo back some of his own teasing medicine.
Instead, his finger caressed my tongue, sending shivers through my body and straight to my already aching pussy. I sucked, and he caressed, and I leaned into Ryo’s body, just a bit, and felt delicious hardness adjusting the lines of his elegant charcoal pants.
Ryo slipped his finger from my mouth, pulled me closer, ran both hands down my back again. This time, they weren’t light, but firm and bold, exploring. And this time, he didn’t stop politely at the small of my back, but followed the ropes down, feeling how they dipped between my buttocks. He chuckled again, approvingly, and gave the ropes a little tug.
My lips swelled under the caress of the ropes, and my head swam.
This wasn’t what I expected. He wasn’t what I expected.
But he was making me melt, and it wasn’t just a handsome man’s hands on me, although I wasn’t about to complain about that. I’m more than a little bit of an exhibitionist, and this wasn’t the first time Erik had found a way to show me off to an appreciative audience, but the way
Ryo was seeing me with his hands was something new. It was far more intimate than simply being watched, and yet curiously impersonal in some ways. I got the feeling he’d explore anything new and interesting with as much delicacy and curiosity.
Although probably without a tempting hard-on.
Erik stood there watching (and probably getting hard himself) as his friend and I drove each other crazy.
And then, when my body was turning to liquid fire and Ryo bent his head down as if he was thinking about kissing me, Erik—damn him and his games!—said something studiedly innocuous about predinner drinks.
I’m not sure how to describe the noise I made. I’m afraid whining was involved as well as some more appealing elements like moaning.
Ryo laughed and said, “I’d love a scotch.” He gave my butt a light squeeze before pulling away. “Carla, would you help me find a seat?”
He took my arm innocently, as if he hadn’t just been driving me wild—then touched the bare skin of my wrist so lightly and yet so deliciously that I shivered.
I was so going to get Erik for not warning me that his blind friend wasn’t going to be an innocent pawn in our game, that he was apparently just as toppy and arousingly evil as Erik.
On the other hand, would it have been nearly as much fun if I’d known?
Cocktails and dinner passed with excruciating slowness. I barely tasted my wine, although I might have sipped more of it than I meant to, couldn’t be sure what I was eating even though I’d helped cook it. The guys kept up a stream of light, suggestive banter the whole time that kept me distracted, focused on the ropes and the throbbing, aching territory between my thighs rather than on food. That the banter was about me, but between them, just made it worse, or maybe better. It was especially unnerving—and exciting—that while Erik kept smiling at me, touching my hand, including me in little ways, Ryo didn’t even glance in my direction. The part of my brain that was still working logically realized that, blind since birth, he didn’t bother pretending he could see who he was talking to.
The part of my brain that was playing in the gutter, and that was most of it, relished feeling like an object—a beautiful, fascinating object, sure, but an object—for the guys’ amusement. Sometimes in our games I showed myself off, and felt powerful, but this time I was being shown off and that was hot too: wrapped up like a present and tied with a bow, like a special present I was being shown off to Erik’s friend.
Or offered to him.
How far would it go? We’d never involved others in our games beyond watching and being watched and some mild teasing caresses, but we were both open to the idea under the right circumstances.
Even though I’d just met Ryo, my body thought this was the right circumstances. My mind? Well, I trust my husband, and he’d known this guy since they were undergraduates.
And even if that wasn’t what Erik had in mind, I knew we weren’t done. The conversation had layers, and I had a feeling that the guys had something planned, something they were talking around just enough to make me crazy with curiosity and lust.
After we ate, I offered to make coffee. Not that I wanted coffee—I wanted Erik, or Ryo, or ideally, both of them—but I figured if I stepped out of the room, they could finish their plotting without having to be all cryptic.
As soon as I stood, though, Erik said, “No. Stay here. Ryo, would you like to check my work? It’s been a long time.”
“Hate to think you’d forgotten anything.” He turned his face to where he figured I was—I was unnerved by how close he got, when he’d been talking around me for so long. “Carla,” he said with exaggerated politeness, “would you take off your dress, please?”
His voice was almost as caressing as his hands had been and I had to grab a chair because my knees went wobbly. Trembling, I reached for the hem of my dress, but “No, let me help you,” Erik said. He crouched down, grabbed the hem, and lifted it.
I expected him to go slowly, to tease me further even if Ryo couldn’t appreciate it, but instead he had it to my shoulders in a flash. I raised my arms over my head so he could pull it off.
He did. And then he grabbed my wrists and lifted me up until my tiptoes just brushed the floor. Erik is about six five, with big, powerful hands (he works on it just so he can pull off tricks like this) so it was like suspension bondage without the suspension, a lovely strain that pulled the ropes tighter against my oversensitive lips, arched my breasts forward, and made me even more aware of being helplessly, deliciously on display.
“She’s ready for you, Ryo,” he said. “Come see what I’ve done.”
And of course, there was only one way for him to see.
With his hands.
He started at the top, caressed my face again, followed the lines of my throat to my collarbone, and followed that line to the ropes.
He traced those down to where they started wrapping my chest; three wrappings of rope there, and he followed all of them across my body, checked where they went between my breasts. His fingers barely grazed the sensitive valley, concentrating instead on the ropes, but that was enough to make me squirm and moan. He reached the band of ropes underneath, traced those as well. This time his touch, by accident or design, was less precise, stroking the plump bottom curve of my breasts. He was nowhere near the nipple, but that flesh was almost as sensitive now as my nipples normally were. I bit my lip, but the “Oh, god” was still audible.
Ryo chuckled, and the appreciation in the chuckle was like another caress. He liked my reactions, and I liked that he liked them.
Liked it enough that moisture was trickling down my legs.
Ryo’s hands moved lower, to the ropes corseting my waist. “You changed ropes here,” he said, stroking one area repeatedly. He wasn’t touching skin, except through rope, but it still set the skin there on fire and sent the flames traveling to my clit.
“Yeah. I’m surprised you can tell. They’re the same kind of rope.”
“Close, but not quite. I’d like to see how you handled the transition. It felt pretty smooth through her dress.”
Erik turned me around like the thing I felt myself to be.
Ryo examined the knot work where the two ropes joined. “Very neat. A lot of people don’t bother to make the back so tidy.”
“You taught me well.”
When I could string two coherent sentences together, I was going to ask for that story. A good story is the next best thing to being there, and since I couldn’t go back in time and watch Ryo teaching Erik, I’d like to hear all the juicy details. But for now I could only relax and enjoy the sensations as Ryo examined all the knots and transitions on my back. It took a long time, and before he was done, Erik was letting me lean on him because I was shaking so much.
Or maybe it was just because he wanted me there. He kept kissing me, sending me soaring even higher. His sweater and jeans felt wonderfully rough against my bare skin and the wool of his sweater was almost painful, but in a good way, on my nipples. He pressed his crotch against my thigh and ground, and I could feel how hard he was, how much he was enjoying the show and the act of showing me off. I kept trying to move so he’d rub it between my legs, but he was having none of that. He wanted to keep the long tease going, and maybe—at least I liked to think so—he might have found that a little too much himself.
Finally Ryo said, his voice husky, “Great work, Erik. At least as good as mine. Turn her around. There’s one last thing I want to check.”
Erik whispered in my ear, “Are you ready?”
I had a pretty good idea of what was coming, and all I could possibly say was “God, yes. Please!”
Erik neatly turned me around and lifted me up again, using only one hand, arching me back against his body. He reached around me with the other, simultaneously hugging me close and pinching my nipple. I clenched and nearly came.
I was perversely glad I didn’t quite make it, though. Ryo had something in mind and I was waiting for that.
Ryo put his hands on my wais
t.
Ran them down over the rope-covered curve of my belly.
Found where the ends of the crotch ropes were neatly woven into the waist wrap.
Then, excruciatingly slowly, Ryo traced the two ropes down, following them to where they were holding my pussy lips open.
“So wet,” he said. “So very wet. You’ll have to wash the rope.” As he spoke, he stroked the damp, slippery rope, barely touching my flesh, not touching my clit at all. I needed to come so badly it hurt, but even the ache felt good.
I cocked my hips toward him, said, “Please. Please. Oh, god, please,” or at least something like that.
“One last thing to check,” Ryo said, and flicked my clit.
The guide dog started awake as I screamed and then screamed some more. His touch was as sure and delicate there as it had been everywhere else, but at this point he could have been clumsy as a teenage boy still trying to figure out female anatomy and I’d have gone off like a rocket.
“And that’s the final test,” he said, clearly talking to Erik, not to me. “The prettiest rope work in the world is useless unless the result’s a wet, screaming woman.”
Erik eased me down and I slumped between the two men, feeling like I’d just run a very special kind of marathon.
Only then did Ryo kiss me.
He kissed as deliciously as he did everything else, but when his watch quietly intoned the hour, he pulled away. “I should get going,” he said. “If I catch the next train, I’ll get home about when Jessie does—and the deal was I could come play without her today as long as I saved most of my energy for home. She was so pissed she got called into work today, but she’s too new at the job to get away with saying no.”