Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  The crowd laughs and applauds. Giving them a smile, I squint against the spots and scan the people around me. “Thanks, Gabe. Let's give him a round of applause for providing such an incredible playground for us to do our kinky business in.”

  He nods graciously as he pulls away from the stage, leaving me to do my show. An energy I haven't felt in days fills me as I'm back in my element.

  See? I can do this on my own, just like always. I try to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind that exclaims, “But I don't want to!”

  “Thank you all for coming out tonight. A lot of new faces and some familiar ones too. Good to see you. This presentation will be fairly basic, but hopefully there'll be something for you more experienced players too. Bondage and restraint is fun and exciting, but as with everything BDSM, safety is paramount.” Resting my weight on the stocks set up on stage, I scan the audience. “I need a volunteer for this demo. Anyone interested? I assure you it'll be safe.” I grin.

  Some chuckles and some hands.

  “Here’s one!” The voice sounds from just in front of me so I have to look down.

  Caleb and Eric push their way to the front with a familiar figure squished between them. Noticing something must be up, the rest of the audience laughs and most of the arms go down.

  Em is dressed like much like she was the first night, which immediately has my cock filling with blood. If anything, her skirt's even shorter and her cleavage deeper. She's put her hair up into a ponytail that's begging to be yanked, and shows off her graceful neck, encircled by her black choker with the metal ring. She looks ready for me to drag into one of the rooms and secure properly before I have my way with her, and I'm so fucking tempted. Which I’m sure was the plan.

  Eric looks at my scowl and laughs.

  She looks nervous, but knowing her, I don’t doubt that she volunteered for this little show. I really should tell my so-called friends to go to hell. Except the room is full of people who came for a show, and it’s not their fault I’m being set up.

  She mouths at me, “Sorry!”

  Right.

  I knew the quiet was too good to be true.

  Fine.

  Giving her a hand up onto the stage, I try to keep my voice steady, “Thank you, Emily. Everyone, an applause for Emily.”

  She stands up, smiling at me like she’s not a sexy package of trouble waiting to happen. I have no idea what she's up to, but whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to make my life more complicated. Once up, she does a slow twirl, taking in our audience. She's surprisingly confident, but she’s used to doing lifesaving classes so I suppose this isn’t that different.

  Just more genitalia.

  Placing myself behind her, I put my hands on her shoulders and hiss into her ear, “What the fuck do you think you're doing here?”

  “Volunteering. That's pretty obvious, isn't it?” She says it like it's the simplest thing in the world.

  “That's not what I mean, and you know it.” Strange looks from a couple of the closer members of the audience tell me that I'm obviously not being as subtle as I think.

  Forcing a smile, I guide Em towards a bench in the center, where I've stashed some lengths of rope. “We're going to start our demo with ropes, a wonderful way of keeping troublesome subs in place for the punishments they earn.”

  Em's arched eyebrow shows that she caught my emphasis on troublesome.

  I shrug and add in a whisper, “Just calling it as I see it.”

  She matches my shrug with one of her own, but her impish grin tells a different story. “Hey, I wanted to talk days ago in private. This is your fault.”

  “My…” If that's what she thinks, she'll find that two can play at this game. “Arms behind your back.” In my experience, just about every Dom has a particular way of speaking, a certain tone that makes the obvious that the game is on. The Dom voice. I use mine, and her arms come back so fast she looks a little surprised herself.

  Not giving her time to think about it, I clutch her tiny wrists in my left hand and lift them so her forearms are parallel across her back, while I wind rope around them with the right. “Your safewords are yellow to slow down and red to stop. Repeat them back to me.”

  Her voice is shakier, not as confident when she answers. “Yellow to change things, red to stop.”

  “Good.” In a slightly louder voice, I address the crowd while I continue to loop the rope. “As with any play, always establish safewords before the session. I expect all of you know this, but just pointing it out. Not using a safeword isn't hardcore or a sign of total devotion—it's just unsafe. But it’s also no guarantee of safety. Once you are restrained, you are at the mercy of your Dom, so choose carefully.”

  “I did,” Em whispers, sending a thrill of conquest through me before I can squash it.

  Before long, my column tie has her arms nicely trapped behind her. “There are many ways to do this, of course, but I like this one since it makes sure that her hands don't get in the way.” To illustrate, I flip Em's skirt up, exposing a lacy black thong that shows more than it hides, and give her ass cheek a solid smack. She yelps and hops forward a step, to the amusement of our audience.

  Grabbing her upper arms, I pull her back into me. “You're here to play? We're going to play.” My whisper is harsh, and I take more than a little pleasure in seeing her shiver at my words. It's probably childish, but it frustrates the hell out of me that she gets a rise out of me so easily. It's only fair to return the favor.

  So much for staying away, but much as I want to keep the appropriate professional distance, my hand is aching to hurt that perfect ass of hers. It's made for smacking, soft, rounded and with just the right amount of jiggle when my palm connects. I learned that last time, the same time I learned that I can't trust myself alone with her.

  Today I'm learning that I can't trust myself in a crowd either.

  The bench is height adjustable with a little button, so I raise it to just below her waist. “I'm going to bend you over the bench.” She nods while I explain to the crowd, “Notice that when I put her in any kind of predicament or situation where she won’t be able to catch herself, I let her know. Surprises can be hot as hell, but not the kind where you panic because you think you're going to go face first into the concrete.”

  As I speak, I position her over the bench so she's bent over at the waist, her weight on her feet and on her chest, her ass just a bit up in the air. “Good? You feel stable?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice hitches and it’s fucking sexy as hell. Uncertainty mixed with excitement. Perfect.

  “I like this position,” I tell the audience. “The downside is that her breasts aren't easily accessible, but it puts her ass in a prime punishing position.” To illustrate, I flip her skirt up again so that her nearly fully exposed cheeks are visible to everyone. She stays put, but when I put my hand on the back of her thigh, it trembles.

  Is this too much for her? She hasn't used her safeword, but she’s so stubborn I don’t know if she will. My ex-wife sure didn’t.

  While I softly massage the back of her thigh with the one hand, I raise the other and give her a solid smack on her ass, loving the little jiggle and the bright pinkness of her skin where my hand connected. “This sub’s been really naughty lately, so we'll give her a couple of more for good measure.”

  “What?” Em glances back at me over her shoulder, wide-eyed, but I just smirk at her with a shrug, before landing another two blows that echo through the large room.

  Each strike draws a throaty groan out of her. I give her a moment to gather herself, then follow up with a last one that rocks her against the bench, followed by a loud yelp.

  “I thought this was a safety demonstration,” she gasps.

  “A well-behaved sub is a safe sub, and there's only one good way to teach subs how to behave.” I grin.

  She runs her tongue over her lips, as if considering what I said, then nods and wiggles her ass, to the delight of the crowd. No better invitation than th
at.

  “I'll get back to the presentation in a moment,” I declare, “but I seem to have gotten a wriggler up on stage tonight, and that's the sort of thing that's best nipped in the bud.”

  There's some quiet chuckling that I drown out with the sound of my palm turning Em's ass cheeks rosy. These aren't powerful, deep hits like the ten I gave her last time, but firm and quick. Only five, six of them, but enough to generate a bit of color. When I stop, her breath comes in short gasps.

  “How's that. Going to stay still for me, little one?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice is strained with excitement.

  Am I making this too easy on her? In a way I want to teach her a lesson for ignoring my words and constantly coming after me, but I can't deny this chemistry between us. And it definitely doesn't hurt the old ego. I chuckle softly to myself, as I walk around her, both to admire her prone body and to make sure everything is as it should be.

  “This position is good for after the punishment as well, though I'm sure you already other possibilities.” I stop right in front of her head, which puts it just below my crotch level. The implication and the sight of her below me like that has me thickening up, making me glad my jeans are tight enough to keep things in place. At least for now.

  “Obviously, it makes both ends available for all sorts of fun.” I grin as Em’s blush spreads all the way around to her neck. “Or hell, bring a friend and share.”

  There’s a few good-natured catcalls from the audience. And here I hadn't thought her shade of red could get any darker.

  “But, I'm getting too far afield here. This is supposed to be a safety lecture, not a play session.” I return to Em's back end for a final smack before diving into the details.

  Her cry is music to my ears.

  11

  Emily

  My God, there’s a lot of rules to this stuff. I'm glad all I have to do is to stand here tied. You need a doctorate in ropeology or whatever it's called to be the one tying. At least that's the way it seems like. Maybe a doctor of medicine too. It's a little scary. Rope burns, nerve damage, dead tissue, snapped bones, strangulation, an uncontrollable urge to run away and join the circus.

  Given the number of horrible things that can happen, I'm surprised that anyone dares tie anyone up. Guess I'm lucky to be in the hands of an expert.

  But I can't say that being tied up doesn't feel a little nice too. Scary, but a good scary. To be at Paul's mercy doesn't seem like such a horrible thing now that I'm standing here with his hands all over my body.

  Not just clinical demonstration touches, either. His hands are in love with my ass, squeezing and prodding whenever he finds an excuse. That brings back the fact that my skirt's still flipped up, bearing my back end to anyone who wants to see. I didn't expect him to do that, otherwise I would've worn something other than a thong.

  Well, probably.

  It's embarrassing, but a little exciting too, and I love that about Paul. He challenges me, and makes me feel things no one else has. I flex my hands, both to test the feel of the ropes and to stretch a little as he talks.

  Doesn't he see how good we are together?

  Suddenly, my hands come free. The rope loosens and drops to the floor while Paul helps me straighten back up. He looks me closely in the eyes. “Are you all right? Everything okay?”

  I blink curiously. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

  He takes my chin in his hand, and looking in his eyes nearly takes my breath away. His touch feels so possessive, but is it for me, or would he be the same if someone else had been the volunteer? I'm trying to transmit how badly I want him, but eye contact only goes so far. Am I really the only one feeling this connection?

  He nods and lets go. “All right, time to put my lovely assistant in the stocks.” His huge hand takes mine and guides me to the pillory set up on one end of the stage. “This is just one example of harder mechanical restraints, and one of the more popular, but a lot of the principles I'll talk about apply to any such device.”

  My only experience with anything like this was at a renaissance fair when I was in high school, next to my kid brother while my parents took pictures. They thought they were hilarious, but I'm sure they never expected I'd be doing it again in a fancy BDSM club.

  I put my hands in the appropriate grooves and then lower my head into the big one in the middle. As soon as I'm in position, Paul lowers the top half until it claps against the lower and then slides a deadbolt that locks the two parts together. The metallic sound raises goosebumps down my arms.

  I’m really locked in. So simple, but very effective.

  “Did everyone bring their rotten tomatoes?” Paul asks the crowd, and I put on my scared face, playing along.

  Most of them laugh, but a woman with a half shaved head raises her arm. “I've got a bag in the car for some crushing later. Want me to get them?”

  I blink.

  Paul laughs. “No, I think we'll be fine. Em won't have to go through that tonight.” Paul claps the top of the stocks with his hand, making me jump.

  Tonight? Crushing? Twisting my head as much as I can in my predicament, I manage to catch his eye and ask the question by raising my eyebrows. He grins, but shakes his head. Well, that's good, at least. I think.

  I try to move, but only succeed in rattling the metal lock. I'm well and stuck. It’s a restraint like the rope, but feels totally different. Here I’m trapped in the same position but the comforting pressure of the ropes is gone. A chill that I try to quiet worms its way down my back. If there's a fire or something, I'll be stuck here.

  It's weird how such a little niggling thought in the back of my mind suddenly comes front and center. Not a panic attack exactly, but I'm feeling a lot more anxious than I thought I'd be. It won't be long, though, and I don't want to ruin Paul's presentation.

  Paul wastes no time flipping up my skirt again and puts his hand firmly on my ass. “This is another great tool for punishment, or… anything else you'd want to consider. Nowhere for her to go. Like, if I were to pull down this thong, there's nothing she can do to stop me.”

  He's testing me, right? I mean, he's not actually going to do it, is he?

  I stiffen when his fingers hook in the elastic. He waits, as if he's daring me to use the safeword. Do I want to? Will he really expose me right here in front of everyone? I know I’m exploring new things and all, but…

  Yellow hangs on my tongue, and I almost spit it out, when he lets go again. “Maybe not this time,” he says, then gives my ass a good slap. Instinctively, I lurch forward, which shakes the stocks and rattles the lock.

  Is this thing secured properly? Out of my control, my eyes dart to the base of the pillory. It looks solid, but if I can rattle it, does that mean that it might move? I'm up on a stage after all. If it falls, it's my neck on the line.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Stop being silly. Paul would never put me in this if it wasn't safe. That's the whole point of this demo. Why am I even freaking out about this? It's not like I've ever had claustrophobia, or anything like that.

  Paul does his spiel. “If you're at all unsure about proper rope tying, mechanical restraints can be a great option. It could be anything from stocks or a cage, to something as simple as leather manacles and something to clip them to. They're solid, and if built sturdily, not going to suddenly move in a dangerous way.”

  He runs his fingers along my back as he walks around me, but this time I'm having a hard time focusing on it, much less enjoying it. I know I'm safe here. I know it, but my brain is betraying me on some primitive level, telling me that I'm trapped and that I'm not getting out. It's silly, really, and I do my best to push it away. How embarrassing.

  I shiver beneath his touch, as he comes back around to my front. Putting his fingers underneath my chin, he lifts it so he looks me right in the eyes. There must be something there, because he frowns suspiciously. “Are you all right?”

  For a moment I close my eyes, unable to meet his gaze while I center m
yself. I’m fine. Just first time jitters. Drawing a deep breath, I hold it, then open my eyes and nod. I can do this. I’m not going to ruin his presentation by acting silly.

  I’m safe.

  A flash of doubt crosses his face, but he nods gently. “There’s no shame in using a safeword. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” He stands, but I can feel his eyes on me like he’s got x-ray vision.

  I’m safe. I am.

  Paul walks around me again, while lecturing, keeping a hand on me at all times. I focus on that, the warmth of his touch while I listen to his calm, steady voice.

  “The biggest thing with mechanical restraint, and really any form for restraint, is the ease of release. I talked about having your EMT shears or rope cutter handy when doing rope work. Well, it's the same deal with this.”

  He rattles the lock bolt for emphasis and I jump. Dropping to a crouch, he lifts my head again, obviously concerned. I give him a wan smile.

  He continues speaking, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “If I had a dollar for every tough guy Dom who locks their restraints with heavy padlocks because it looks scary, or uses intricate locking systems for esthetics, I'd be able to quit my job at the police department.”

  He stands, but his hand goes to my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. It helps, at least for a few moments while he addresses the crowd. “I'm going to keep this simple. Don't fucking do it. If your sub has a cramp, or manages to hurt themselves, or there is a fire, anything unforeseen, you have to be able to get them out ASAP. If the zombies are invading and breaking down your door, you don't want to have to spend time digging out the key and working the lock. The fewer moving parts, the better.”

  He slides the bolt back and I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to get up, but then he slides it right back shut. I'm feeling a little nauseous now, but he's got to be just about done, right?