The Initiation of Isabella: A Binding Ties story

by Jenna Ives

  Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Listen to me. She’s not what I—she’s not what we expected.” He looked at the two men in the soundproof room, only peripherally aware of the fact that he was standing there stark naked while his friends were fully clothed. “For Christ’s sake, you must have seen her reactions for yourselves.”

  Max glowered at him, and then shot a look over Logan’s shoulder through the huge picture window to the naked woman lying on the bed. “She ordered three men,” he reminded Logan in a low growl.

  Logan threw a glance at Scott, who appeared to be waiting patiently to hear all that Logan had to say before offering his own comments. These were his two best men, the only ones Logan would trust with this next scenario. Surely they’d listen to his reasoning.

  “She’ll get three men,” Logan assured them. “But not exactly in the usual way.”

  Max glanced back at him. “Logan, when a woman orders three men from our menu of options,” he said sarcastically, “it’s to fill her three orifices. She knows what she wants. She booked this scenario.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You don’t usually participate in these games, Logan. Rule number one is never to get emotionally involved with a client.”

  “I am not emotionally involved.”

  “Liar,” Max accused quietly, eyeing Logan’s groin.

  It was a lie, and Logan knew it, but not because his cock was still blatantly erect. “It’s not emotional,” he said again, trying to explain his feelings, to himself as well as his friends. “There’s—there’s just something about her. Something not quite what we expected.”

  “Is that why you haven’t re-gagged her?” Max asked. “She asked to be gagged, remember. And why use surgical tape and not a regular gag ball?”

  Logan shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t imagine using an S&M gag on her.

  “Listen,” Max said, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I know you own the company, but what’s the purpose of Fantasies Fulfilled? Why does it exist? It’s to give women the right to choose their own pleasures, right? Think about it! This woman chose our most decadent scenarios. She asked for three men. Our job is to give the client what she wants. Whatever she wants, with no judgments on our part. She’s paid for it.”

  Logan couldn’t deny that. Still, the thought of three men filling her like Max suggested didn’t sit well with him. Even if she’d ordered it.

  Damn it. He was just no good at this. Despite protesting he was not emotionally involved here, the thought of sharing the incredible woman in the next room made his stomach tighten into knots. He knew she’d requested three men—and he wanted to respect her wishes—but as for the specifics of the act, he had something much more pleasant than Max’s scenario in mind. At least, he hoped she’d think so.

  “Logan,” said Scott, finally offering his opinion. “It’s Max’s prick that’s talking here. He’s been waiting for this moment since he saw how enthusiastically she responded to what you were doing to her. He’s ready and willing to give her exactly what she’s asked for.” He gave Max a brief scowl, then turned back to Logan. “But Max is right about one thing. You own this company. So this is your call. You’ve been with the client for the last hour. You know her better than we do. Tell us what you want us to do.”

  Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “That’s just it,” he explained. “She’s not as hard, not as calloused as I expected. This all seems like a surprise to her, even though, as Max says, she ordered all of it. I know our job is to please her, and I believe we can do that with the three of us, just not exactly in the usual way.”

  “Logan,” Max warned. “You’re setting a dangerous precedent here.”

  Logan shook his head. “No. We have the option to be flexible with the scenario if the situation warrants it, right? She opted for three men, but her application didn’t spell out exactly how she wanted them. Just like she didn’t spell out exactly how she wanted to be punished. And my gut says I’m right about this next scenario.”

  Max made a sound that spoke his disapproval. Logan ignored it.

  “Take off your shirts, both of you.”

  As they did, Logan proceeded to explain to them the version of the scenario he had in mind. And even Max finally agreed, once Logan described the part he’d play in it.

  Chapter Nine

  A series of quiet sounds across the room let Isabella know that Mr. S had returned. Odd, but he seemed to be making a lot of noise for just one person. She tilted her head to try to follow his movements, and heard him stop near the head of the platform. The soft tearing of foil told her that he was rolling on another condom, which meant that he would be penetrating her again. How would he do it this time?

  A shiver of excitement raced through her body. Since she was lying on her stomach, chained to the platform, would he take her from behind?

  She heard a shuffling of feet, and then she felt him unhook her handcuffs. She frowned. Oh well, that was one new experience she obviously wouldn’t be indulging in tonight. Still, he seemed to have an endless supply of tricks…

  He gently rolled her over onto her back and positioned her in the center of the platform before lifting her hands over her head and locking the handcuffs to a latch in the wall.

  A moment later, he walked to the bottom of the padded platform, captured one of her ankles with his hand and pulled her body taut. She jerked her leg in surprise, but his grip on it was strong. He spread her tightly across the bed and then methodically tied each of her ankles to the corners of the platform with ropes.

  She sucked in a breath. She’d been defenseless and at his mercy before, but this time was different. This was absolute vulnerability. She was spread eagle and helpless. Without a gag, she was free to open her mouth to protest, so why was she hesitating?

  Because she wanted this. Wanted to experience everything the woman who’d booked this event had ordered. Wanted to take part in all the sexual things other women knew about and enjoyed, things she’d never dared try in her boring, staid life. And most of all, she wanted to experience them with this man.

  This next one’s for you, he’d said.

  Her skin tingled all over with a combination of excitement and nerves.

  She felt his presence by the side of the bed. His fingertips made soft contact with her cheek, then slowly worked a path down the side of her face and along her jawline to her chin, coming up to rest on her mouth. His index finger stroked slowly around her lips, gently tracing their outline, around and around, and then slid along the crease where her two lips met. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to break the sensuous spell he wove. She didn’t know what her part was in this game, or even whether she had a part in it. Did he want her to open her lips and allow him entrance to her mouth? Or pull that finger into her mouth and suck on it like she had his cock?

  “Shh,” he whispered, as if he’d read her mind. “Just relax and enjoy.”

  So she did. She let out the breath she’d been holding, and concentrated on what he was doing to her body, her skin. Her nerve endings jumped to life as his fingers moved slowly down the side of her neck, across her collarbone, down her chest, and to the valley between her breasts. His fingertips slid to the base of one breast and traced a tantalizing circle, moving slowly higher, to the crest. It was decadent, wonderful torture. By the time he reached the tip, she could feel what he could feel—that her nipple had hardened to a taut, eager little peak. He let his fingertip rest lightly there on top of her tight bud for a minute, not moving, silently showing her his power over her body, but refusing to give her what she wanted, which was his hand wrapped possessively around her breast, his mouth, lips and tongue on her nipple. She arched her back, begging for more contact, but he slowly pulled his hand away, and she dropped back onto the mattress, panting, frustrated.

  “Just relax,” he whispered again. “It’ll be better this way.”

  He began a repeat of the slow torture on her other breast, but
she held still this time and took what pleasure he gave her, knowing he was the one in charge of this little game. And after his fingers had worked her second nipple into an equally frustrated peak as her other, they drifted slowly down her body, exploring her lazily, dipping into her navel, and making her squirm as they moved lower to thread their way through her tight curls.

  With her legs spread wide, she was completely open to his confident hands. She held her breath in anticipation, but he didn’t really touch her there, only skimmed over her lightly, briefly dipping into her wetness, teasing her, making her body arch up with need once again. He pulled his hand away and she moaned her frustration. She was on fire, her body primed for his touch, wet and ready for him, yet he refused to give her any satisfaction. Instead, his fingers moved down to trail along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh as she tried to get her breathing back under control.

  What was this game? He’d said relax and enjoy, but how could she enjoy it when he wasn’t giving her what her body most desperately craved? Before, there had been no languorous foreplay, he had always been insistent about getting right to the sex. There’d never been a doubt that intercourse was the final goal. This time was different. Mr. S had primed her body, but wasn’t making use of it. It was frustrating as hell. His fingers were at her ankle now, and he gave a little tug to spread her legs even wider, before his hand left her completely and she heard him move back up to stand by the top of the bed.

  “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

  She was more than ready, dammit. She wanted him to take her. Now! Her breath came in ragged gasps and she nodded her head desperately.

  “Are you sure you want it?”

  What, did he want her to beg for it? Was that the point of this torture? “Yes,” she hissed.

  He gave a little growl low in his throat, and tilted her chin with his index finger, forcing her head up and back into the mattress.

  And then he kissed her.

  The kiss was a total shock—a slow, drugging, leisurely exploration of her entire mouth with his tongue. So intimate. So personal. So—confusing. It was like they’d crossed some imaginary line here, from the merely physical to something else. Something more.

  He broke away from her briefly. “I wish I could taste myself on your lips.”

  Isabella trembled. Mr. S wished he’d come in my mouth and not the condom. The thought of sharing his taste was incredibly intimate, and yet at the same time amazingly erotic.

  Then he continued the kiss, nipping her, sucking her, probing her with his tongue. She was drowning in this kiss, trying to keep up with the luxurious sensations he evoked—the pleasure-pain of his tiny bites, the wet slide of his lips, the deep invasion of his tongue—when suddenly she felt his mouth on her breast.

  Yes! She thrust up eagerly to meet those lips. Finally, finally, her taut nipple was getting the attention it had been craving. He was sucking her nipple with his lips, laving it with his tongue, scraping it gently with his teeth. But—wait a minute—Mr. S was still kissing her. There was another mouth on her breast! She tensed and frantically tried to break away from the kiss, but Mr. S gripped her chin firmly in his hand and drew his lips away.

  “Relax,” he coaxed. “This may not be exactly what you expected, but I guarantee it will be all about your pleasure…”

  Not what she expected? Her mind raced suddenly back to what she’d said to him before entering this room.

  Where are the others?

  They’re waiting for you.

  Oh, God! She’d been asking about her fellow pledges—the other girls—when all along he’d thought she’d been talking about other guys?

  She was stunned speechless, and felt herself blushing a furious red. She opened her mouth to try to say something—what?—but Mr. S quickly covered her lips with his own and started weaving that sensual spell on her again. And despite her shock, she couldn’t deny the pleasure she was feeling. That second mouth was sucking hard on her nipple now, pulling on her, sending fire shooting straight from her breast directly to her belly, and lower still. And his hand—or was that Mr. S’s hand?—was playing with her other breast, twisting her taut peak, not wanting it to feel left out.

  Now that the shock of having two men pleasuring her had passed, she could feel every tug on her nipples send corresponding shivers of delight right down between her legs. And the rhythmic thrust of Mr. S’s tongue in her mouth made her legs fall even farther apart, making her long for attention there. For fingers spreading her wide, exposing her, yes, just like that, her sex wet and swollen, in anticipation of a delicious onslaught from his mouth. Ahhh. That felt so good. What a clever tongue he had!

  But her body almost came up off the bed when she realized there was actually a third man there, nestled between her legs.

  Mr. S swallowed her shock with another deep kiss and a whisper. “Relax.”

  Without hesitation, the third mouth licked her sex—a long, slow, drag of his tongue, all the way from bottom to top. And then he began exploring her in earnest. He left no part of her untouched, unravished, unaffected, even delving deep into her body with long, sinewy strokes of that silky tongue.

  Isabella’s body shook with sensation. Her wrists strained against her handcuffs, but there was nothing she could do. Not that she wanted to do anything. This was scandalous, shocking, salacious beyond belief. A sinful, wicked seduction. Three men? But she would never have this opportunity again in her life. She threw her inhibitions out the window and gave herself over into the hands of these experts.

  She wanted this.

  And when she began to allow herself to respond to it all, Mr. S pulled back from her mouth and asked quietly, “Tell me how it feels…”

  The pleasure was so intense that she couldn’t speak. Her head kept arching back into the mattress and she could scarcely catch her breath.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  How could she possibly describe what these men were doing to her? It was so intimate, so graphic.

  “Tell me.”

  “Tongues—” she gasped. “Oh, God. One rough velvet tongue, scraping me gently, licking my breasts, sucking my nipples, tasting me.”

  “More.”

  “Fingers. Urging my nipples into tight little peaks. Pinching, twisting, pulling at them. Oh, that’s so good…” She gasped and moaned, thrashing her head against the mattress as the fingers happily obeyed her.

  “More,” Mr. S demanded.

  She sucked in a breath. “With my ankles tied, I’m trapped. Helpless. I can’t get away from that mouth between my legs. But I don’t want to get away from it—no, my hips are thrusting eagerly toward it. I can’t stop myself—oh, God, I want that mouth! My body wants more contact with that mouth. I’m desperate for everything that mouth can do to me. Ahhhh…yes!”

  The mouth in question responded to her demand, finding her sensitive little bud, urgently pulling at it with his lips, roughly tonguing her, gently nipping with his teeth while she felt a finger slip inside her. She gasped and bucked her hips again, taking two fingers, then three, deep inside her. The fingers curled to stroke her from the inside, until she simply couldn’t deny the intensity of the feelings—the sweet attack on every sensitive part of her body, all at the same time.

  “Oh…oh…oh God! Please…”

  “Yes. Give us control, sweetheart. Let go of your body and come for us.”

  No sooner were the decadent words out of Mr. S’s mouth when she climaxed violently, her body jerking and spasming, shuddering and convulsing in wave after wave of incredible pleasure. She screamed her release, and he leaned down to kiss her and took it all—all of her pleasure—right into his own mouth.

  Chapter Ten

  She must have fallen asleep, boneless, exhausted, sated beyond any past experience. When she stirred, she was still on the platform, but she was no longer handcuffed, and no longer blindfolded. Even the ropes around her ankles had been removed, as had her blouse and bra, which had both been hanging open t
hroughout the evening.

  Sitting at her side was the gorgeous Mr. S, smiling down at her. As naked as she was. Her lover, whose name she didn’t even know.

  She gasped suddenly and looked around the room.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

  She exhaled in relief. “How long was I out?”

  “About half an hour.”

  “Swooned from the passion, like those heroines in romance novels, eh?”

  He laughed, a low, sexy sound from deep in his throat. She decided she liked his laugh. In fact, she liked a lot of things about this man. His kiss. His magnificent cock. Just to name two.

  “This is breaking every rule in the book, you know,” he said.

  She frowned. “What is?”

  “The fact that you’re still here. Our session is up. You should be on your way home.” He grimaced.

  She should tell him right now. Tell him that she was the wrong woman, not his scheduled client. Instead, she laid a tentative hand on his forearm, afraid to interpret that frowning expression on his face, afraid to give in to that little kernel of hope, and what it might mean. “So then why am I still here?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, and then shrugged. “I didn’t— Ah hell, I just didn’t want you to go.”

  Her heart picked up speed. “Why not?” She needed to hear his reason.

  He turned his face away from her, and took a deep breath. “I’m not good at this,” he warned.

  “Oh, I’d say you’re very good at it,” she contradicted, a purr in her voice.

  He gave a bark of laughter and turned back to her. “I mean, I’m not good at explanations. I’m not even sure of the rationale myself.” He smiled into her eyes. “But see? This is just it. You’re nothing like what I expected. Nothing like your profile led me to believe. Halfway through tonight’s session I wanted—”

  “Wanted what?”

  He stared at her intently, but didn’t say anything.

  “You wanted what?” she prodded gently, barely breathing.