Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis)

by Zurlo, Michele

  Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  He squeezed his gratitude. “Thanks. How about we head in and order takeout? And then I’ll tie you up.”

  Lydia lifted her brow. “Are you going to do something fancy and take pictures again?”

  “Yes. I’d like to try out a suspension pose if you’re up for it.”

  She laughed quietly at his pun. She’d never been suspended, though it was something she’d always wanted to try. “I’m up for it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wilder used his arm to measure off lengths of rope. He already knew each bundle well, having spent years learning the intricacies of rigging. In the absence of a willing submissive, he would practice on anything from a kitchen chair to an ornate chandelier. He wasn’t doing more than marking time until Lydia reappeared. He’d given her fifteen minutes of personal time before she had to be in the living room.

  He liked her, and that was saying a lot. Micah had been sure he would be compatible with Lydia. When he had returned from the trip he’d taken to interview her in Michigan, he had grinned at Wilder. Buddy, your number is up.

  While Wilder generally didn’t dislike people, he didn’t usually go the extra mile and crave their company or conversation when they weren’t around. With Lydia, he couldn’t seem to imagine not having her nearby. But he’d felt that way about her before. It had been hard, but when she hadn’t called, he’d learned to live without jumping every time the phone rang or looking for her in every new place he went.

  She hadn’t said much as they had unpacked boxes and set up her office. He liked how she focused on the task at hand and didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter. Wilder liked silence. It wrapped around him, a comfortable blanket that soothed his soul. Their conversations, when they happened, were meaningful.

  Before long, she appeared, wearing a pair of black, lacy bikini-cut panties and nothing else. She closed the distance between them, each step suffused with unconscious grace. Though she was nearly naked, she didn’t appear to notice. He liked that she was comfortable with her body. She was beautiful. He liked every seductive curve from her calves to her shoulders. Bound in his ropes, she was positively stunning.

  She knelt in front of him and bowed her head, waiting for his command. He loved how connected he felt to her. From the moment they had met, he’d felt a strong affinity toward her. Now that she waited with submissive patience at his feet, that bond grew. Perhaps when this wish had run its course, she might be open to going on a date?

  “Stand up, Pet. I’ve set up a bamboo tripod. This place doesn’t have high enough ceilings to lift you more than a few feet, but this should do for our first time doing a suspended pose together.” His voice echoed through the silence.

  She stood and focused those soft brown eyes on him. If he didn’t watch it, he would drown in those fathomless depths.

  He handed her a box of matches. “Light the candles, dim the lights, and then go stand under the suspension rig.”

  While she did that, he put some light jazz on the stereo. Soft horns and gentle percussion drifted from speakers placed strategically around the room. Lydia looked up at the nearest speaker, and then she turned to him, a serene smile curving her lips. He wanted to brush his lips against hers, teasing until she gasped and clung to him, pliant and wanton.

  “Have I missed any candles, Sir?”

  He glanced around, doing a quick visual sweep. The candlelight lent a romantic air to the evening, and the music only heightened that feeling. “No, Pet. You did a nice job.”

  She waited patiently under the tripod. “Thank you, Sir.”

  The pose he had in mind would take some time and patience to achieve. He sat on the floor next to her. “This won’t hurt, and it shouldn’t be uncomfortable. Let me know if it is because that means I need to adjust the ropes.”

  He started at her feet, looping the thick neon-pink rope around her ankles and securing them together with a tie known as a seizing bend. Then, just for a decorative zigzag effect, he wove a chain stitch lashing up each leg. The bright rope contrasted nicely with her dark skin, and the wide pattern emphasized the sexiness of her calves and thighs. He stood to begin the ropes that would support her torso. “Tell me one thing that worries you about tomorrow.”

  Her eyes widened a bit. Perhaps she was surprised that he had initiated conversation. Then she frowned. “I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow.”

  “What were you thinking about?” Yes, he wanted into her mind. Did bondage send her to a dark place, or did it bring her peace and clarity? Perhaps it did none of those things. If she didn’t say anything, he couldn’t know.

  “I was thinking that I like putting myself in your hands.”

  Wilder fumbled the knot he was tying. He’d like to show her exactly how good putting herself in his hands could be. However, she meant she felt safe with him, and he couldn’t do anything to abuse that trust. Never in his life had he wished for a fantasy to be over so much. He fantasized now about being free of the agreed-upon rules so he could ask her out. Perhaps whatever had been wrong with their timing all those years ago no longer applied.

  HE HAD REALLY nice hands, strong yet gentle, deft and sure. The design he worked across her lower stomach looked almost like a fancier version of a Celtic knot. He looped more rope through each side, wrapped it around her hips, and tied it off behind her. Then he wound heavier rope around her torso, above and below her breasts. Knots that were so beautiful they had to be mostly decorative connected the parallel lines together.

  “How long did it take you to learn all these different kinds of knots?”

  He adjusted the series of knots along her sternum, his fingers moving slowly between the nylon and her skin. “Don’t know. I’ve been sailing since I was about ten years old.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile or the teasing tone that might get her into trouble. “And when you grew up, you found other uses for your skills. Very versatile of you.”

  He stopped suddenly, fingers pausing an inch from grazing her breast, and stared at her. Intensity darkened his eyes to sapphire. “Yes. I found I enjoy this kind of rigging—fusion bondage—quite a bit. However, not many subs enjoy this, Pet. I need you to be honest with me.”

  Even a day ago, she might have come up with some kind of neutral, generic statement. After all, she only had to humor his hobby for a few more days. She didn’t know how many exactly, but wishes didn’t typically last for all that long. But something electric passed between them, a promise for a tomorrow she couldn’t deny wanting, and she forced herself to analyze the experience for the honest answer he wanted.

  She’d never been bound like this before. What he did seemed more like art, and she was an integral part of his piece. She liked that. She liked the silky-soft glide of the nylon lines against her skin and way the play of color contrasted with her caramel tone. She lived for the moments when his fingers or his breath grazed her, though she longed for more definitive contact. If he would bring sex into the experience, she would be in heaven.

  However, this wasn’t a sexual experience for him. He was an artist, and she was the canvas. In being exactly the man she’d requested, he left her yearning for more.

  “I like being part of your art.” She took a deep breath. “And I like spending time like this with you. I don’t know if I would like this if I wasn’t here with you. I like the quiet intensity of your approach. You make me feel as though I’m more than just a body for you to wrap your ropes around. I feel alive. Secure. Like I can both forget and face the world.”

  For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. She hungered for a taste of his lips. But the stunned expression left his eyes. He nodded and moved to stand behind her, neatly avoiding one leg of the tripod. The ends of the lines hanging along her back tilted as he gathered them together.

  “Good. This next part requires your cooperation. Bend forward so I can secure the lines.” He stumbled ove
r the word “secure,” a hitch causing him to draw out the first syllable.

  She fought the urge to turn and see if anything was wrong.

  In no time, he had her firmly tied to the three-legged suspension rig. She hung facedown, her weight held by lines placed around her upper torso, hips, and legs. He tied her elbows together behind her back and gave her a little push. The rig creaked as she swung, but it was just the sound of the material covering the long poles that made up the legs.

  As she watched the pattern on the rug shift due to her changing view, she realized this position could allow her to be tilted forward or back. It held her in a pose conducive to many sexual positions. She imagined him standing between her legs, thrusting into her wetness. Her pussy throbbed with longing, even when her fantasy shifted to imagine him standing in front of her, tilting her head back so she could take his cock in her mouth. He could pull her hair, and her ass was in easy reach for spanking.

  He could attach weighted nipple clamps or even flog her to orgasm. She closed her eyes and swallowed, but it did nothing to halt the train of her thoughts or the evidence of desire that soaked through her panties. There was no way he could fail to notice. She closed her eyes and prayed she had the strength to honor the integrity of his reasons for doing this. If she didn’t, she knew she would beg him to ease the ache he unintentionally created.

  She might enjoy it, but his brand of bondage may well push her over the edge. Again.

  * * * *

  8 years earlier

  Wilder released the ties on her arms and legs with surprising speed for someone who moved with the satiated laziness of a man who’d just had a huge orgasm. Lydia didn’t move much. She was still a little stunned from the riot of stings tingling across her skin, and she reeled from the aftereffects of multiple orgasms. It was the first time she’d ever climaxed more than once in a night, and it was by far her most intense experience. Happy twenty-first birthday.

  Coming to Fort Lauderdale might not have been her first choice, but it was the best decision she’d ever made.

  “I’m going to help you sit up, and then I’ll get you some water.” He slid his strong arm beneath her shoulders and eased her up.

  The world tilted at funny angles. Though she’d rather keep them there, she blinked to clear the cobwebs from her brain. “I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.”

  He grinned as he shoved pillows behind her. “We’ll take a little time to regroup, then. Talk to me about the flogging. What did you like, and what didn’t you like?”

  She started at his question, and some of her lethargy fell away. What kind of man asked for a critique of his performance? Wasn’t it an unwritten rule that if you liked a guy, then you pretended you liked everything about him? Men had such fragile egos.

  He opened and closed the minifridge and returned to the bed with two bottles of water. After handing them to her, he situated himself so that she could snuggle into the crook of his arm, and he spread the sheet over them.

  Drawing her knees up, she turned into him. Her body was cooling rapidly, and she wanted to steal some of his warmth. Wilder kissed her forehead and flexed his mighty muscles, pulling her even closer. She sipped her water and traced patterns on his chest with her finger.

  “Lydia.” His deep voice rumbled against her cheek. “It’s imperative for me to know what worked for you and what didn’t. I know you enjoyed the overall experience. I have a lot more planned for tonight, and it’s easier to figure out the details if I’m not guessing about your preferences.”

  She stared up at him, wondering how much of the truth she should tell. She hadn’t been dissecting the flogging; she’d spent the time enjoying it. The warmth and acceptance in his eyes encouraged her. “I loved it. Yesterday I would have laughed and rolled my eyes if anyone suggested that I might like having someone tie me up and flog me. It was amazing.”

  It was a compliment, but she trailed off at the end. Part of her wondered how much she could take before the pain was no longer pleasurable.

  Wilder stroked the hair at her temple, urging it away from her face. “But?”

  “But nothing. You could have left me like that for hours. I liked the feeling of helplessness, the feeling that I belonged to you. I should feel freaked out and afraid, but for some reason, I only felt safe and secure.” It scared her how much she trusted him. If he asked right now, she would do just about anything he wanted.

  He kissed her temple, and the caress of his fingers moved down to her shoulder. “I’m glad you trust me. We couldn’t do what we did tonight without that trust. And I’d never keep you tied up for hours on end when you’re not used to it. That’s going overboard, especially for you. You’re quite a fighter. I wouldn’t want you to pull a tendon or anything that would leave you with some kind of physical injury.”

  She searched his face for signs that he didn’t like the way she fought. Really, she hadn’t meant to resist, but he’d made her feel such exquisite things that she couldn’t keep still. With the ropes holding her in place and the flogging that stole her will, she hadn’t tempered her reactions at all.

  “I didn’t really fight you. I wanted you to do the things you did.”

  “I know.” He palmed her breast, alternately squeezing the globe and tweaking her nipple. “Once you get more comfortable with me and you realize you can’t win, I expect you’ll fight more and more. I won’t stop if you don’t use the safe word, Lydia. Remember that. If you truly want to stop, you have to use the safe word.”

  She nodded. “Got it.” She sat up and downed the rest of her water. Then she shifted to get out of bed. The lethargy had disappeared, and she needed to use the facilities.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He didn’t grab for her, but the stern expression on his face held her just as tightly as if his hand were clamped on her arm.

  She pointed to the open door where he’d gone to wash the gag.

  His gaze didn’t waver. “You have to ask first.”

  She looked toward the bathroom and processed this information. Did he have some kind of weird hang-up about sharing space with a woman? “I have to ask to use the bathroom?”

  He shook his head. “You have to ask to leave the room. Some Doms don’t care if you observe protocol when it’s not an active scene. While I’m okay with you not using my title all the time when we’re more relaxed like this, in a lot of ways, I’m still a lot more formal. If you want anything, whether it’s to leave the room or to ask for a flogging, you must get on your knees and ask.”

  This wasn’t something she’d anticipated. He’d prepared her to kneel before him at the beginning of the scene. She understood the symbolism of the act—she was showing him respect and turning over the care of her body to him. But this was too much.

  Wasn’t it?

  “You may kneel on the bed. I don’t require you to always get on the floor.” He patted the mattress helpfully.

  Lydia looked at the place where his hand had come to rest, lifted her gaze back to his, and shook her head. “I’m not asking to go to the bathroom.”

  With that, she flounced from the bed, went into the bathroom, and locked the door. The precaution might have been overkill. She couldn’t see him dragging her out of the bathroom, although she knew disobeying would make him mad. It might be cause for him to end the scene. Doms liked to be in control, and she’d rejected his authority.

  As she washed her hands, she thought about the strangeness of the situation. Wilder didn’t seem like he was all that domineering. Yes, he’d used her body for his pleasure, but she’d wanted that, and she’d derived a great deal of pleasure from what he’d done to her. And she knew he made sure she climaxed once more before he let himself go.

  Why did asking to use the bathroom rankle so much?

  She dried her hands and returned to the bedroom, prepared to get dressed. He’d been very clear about the kind of association he wanted to have with her. She grabbed her folded shirt from where he’d placed it
on the dresser.

  “I didn’t tell you to get dressed. Fold the shirt, put it back, and return to bed.” He spoke softly, no trace of anger in his tone.

  She hazarded a look at him. Other than to sip his water, he hadn’t moved from his semireclined position. He patted the mattress again. She didn’t miss the steel of his authority. Wordlessly she did as he said. She didn’t know why she followed his orders, only that she did.

  He put his arm back around her and pulled her against him so they were once again snuggled close. Lydia sat stiffly.

  “Relax.” He rubbed his palm over her arm. “I won’t punish you until you understand exactly why you’re being punished, and you accept it.”

  She twisted to better see his face. “I have to accept a punishment before you’ll administer it?”

  He nodded. “And you have to understand the reason for it.”

  She searched his eyes, but she only found tranquility in his clear blue gaze. “You’re not angry, but you want to punish me. I don’t understand.”

  “I know. That’s why I let you go in the first place.” He brushed a kiss across her lips, and his gentle warmth permeated her cooled flesh. “You lack training. I want to train you. I want to show you what it’s like to be my cherished submissive.”

  His. He wanted to show her what it was like to belong to him. She wanted that too. She never thought of herself as the type to fall head over feet for some guy she met on a spring break trip, but here she was, nestled in his embrace. “Okay. Help me understand why I have to ask to go to the bathroom.”

  Amusement glinted from his eyes. She liked that look on him. He sat up a little more and shifted her to sit across his lap. He cradled her in his arms.

  “It’s about respect.”

  She wanted to echo the last word as a question, but she knew when to keep quiet. If she wanted answers, she was going to need to listen.

  “In a D/s relationship, the sub gives control to her Dom. She gives him control over her pleasure, her pain, and her body. He is entrusted with caring for her, making sure she gets the pain she needs and the pleasure she craves. One of the more overlooked aspects is control of the body.”