by Alison Tyler
Eddie stopped and held Ceci by the arms. “Don’t pay attention to the looky-loos, Ceci. It’s just you and me.” But the looky-loos made her feel beautiful and sexy. Wasn’t that the point?
“Yes, Daddy,” Ceci heard herself whisper. Maybe Eddie’s voice hypnotized her.
The other faces faded when Ceci focused. With a tip of her rigid jaw, Eddie indicated a tall, metal, old-fashioned medical table. “I want you to go stand in front of that table.”
She walked across the cement floor, heels tapping, many eyes on her, and struggled to climb up onto the table. She lost her confidence a little, the climb feeling not-so-sexy, clumsy. But as soon as she settled her rump, Eddie materialized before her, smiling.
“It’s too tall, isn’t it?” Eddie said. Ceci’s knees pointed at Eddie’s chest. “For me, too. This won’t do.” She offered Ceci a hand. “Hop down from there, babe.”
She managed a more graceful dismount, and they walked around the maze while Eddie considered her options. Ceci listened to Eddie’s even breathing and felt her own heart beating. She tried her best to ignore the growing audience, but the shadowed faces, blinking eyes and grisly smiles distracted her and toyed with her vanity.
Eddie had stopped in front of a black, wooden frame, like a doorway that went nowhere. In each of its corners shone a bolted ring. They matched her nipple rings. Eddie pointed to the ground, and it took Ceci a moment to realize she meant for her to sit there. She lowered down onto her haunches, thankful for a break for her feet.
Out of her duffel, Eddie produced four leather and fur restraints. Ceci had seen this sort of thing before. In fact, she had a set that she and Jane had bought years ago. You could pick them up for fifty bucks in any novelty sex shop.
But Eddie made no cheesy boudoir jokes. With a serious brow and tight focus, she clipped one cuff to each ring on the black frame, and Ceci wondered if her wrists would reach that high. Eddie pulled a couple more things out of the duffel, stuffed something shiny into her pants pocket and something leather under her arm, zipped up, and tossed the black bag into the corner behind the frame. She turned to look down at Ceci.
Ceci felt a surge in her heart. Was this love or just sex or kinky performance art? She didn’t even know Eddie, not really. They had spoken very few words to each other, but she had submitted to Eddie in ways she would never have bowed to Jane—to anyone. Eddie dazzled her and made her cunt throb. Half naked, vulnerable, on her knees, with onlookers, she felt stunning, more radiant than she’d ever felt before. Eddie’s palm pressed against the back of Ceci’s head until her cheek smashed into the top’s denim crotch. She closed her eyes and inhaled.
Ceci hadn’t yet seen that her collar also sported a steel ring in front, but now Eddie linked a finger through it and yanked her to her feet. “Stand there.” She pointed at the wooden frame.
Ceci obeyed.
Eddie reached between her bare legs with a stick—a switch. She smacked both her inner thighs and said, “Spread your legs, baby.”
Ceci spread her stinging thighs open.
“More.”
Eddie wanted her ankles nearer to the restraints, but the wider she spread her legs, the shorter she got, and the more impossible it would be for her wrists to reach. Would she get in trouble for just telling Eddie what she thought? Would getting in trouble be fun?
She placed one foot up against each leather cuff, unsure of the rules.
Eddie buckled her feet to the frame, stood, took her wrists, and stretched Ceci’s arms to their limits. “Tsk tsk,” she clucked. “I want you to wear higher heels next week.”
So that was how it worked. The top blames the bottom’s outfit. The burn of Eddie’s rebuke felt almost as sexy as the sting of the switch on her thighs. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Stand still.” Eddie went back to her duffel and pulled out a wad of rope. She then surprised Ceci by approaching the gathered crowd. A tall man, with a barrel chest in a ruffled peasant shirt smiled at Ceci.
His mustache widened and then twitched when he leaned forward for Eddie to speak into his ear. They whispered back and forth for several minutes and walked toward Ceci with matched stride. Eddie stood close in front of her while the man circled around behind her.
Eddie smiled, and her field of vision turned black.
The man blindfolded her with a soft, silky scarf, tied it tight, and smacked her ass. Ceci squirmed. She didn’t want to have sex with this guy, at least not for free. Ridiculous costume, unattractive—did Eddie know him? How would she know him from Eddie if she couldn’t see?
The stranger smacked her ass again, and Ceci made a face that must have betrayed her thoughts. Eddie’s voice breathed into her ear. “You have to trust me, Ceci. I’m in charge here.”
She exhaled at that. She would trust Eddie’s dedication to this Daddy identity even if she didn’t like this other guy. She would surrender to Eddie, to this scene, to sexual magic.
“Answer me!”
Ceci’s breath quickened “Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Da—”
“Good. Raise your arms high,” said the strange man.
She did, and her wrists cuddled into the furry restraints, which tightened, so she hung a little. “Good girl,” came Eddie’s voice. “It’s just you and me now.” Her heated breath disappeared from Ceci’s ear, and she waited in the dark. So Eddie had just needed this guy’s help to set it up? Ceci had strategized around sex before, but she’d never prearranged logistical assistance.
Eddie’s preparation for this game pleased her. She couldn’t help but play along. Apparently, Eddie didn’t need her to like this rope-tying assistant; she just needed Ceci to accept him in his role.
The room grew quiet, and she searched for the sound of Eddie’s gait, her voice. The sound of soles smacking cement, running, came at her, and a loud, thumping weight fell on her back, then again, and again. It brought with it a fuzzy stinging, and each blow felt heavier. She leaned forward in the soft fur of the restraints, but the tiny leather straps—so many of them!—found her again and again. Pain and pleasure washed over her. She shut her eyes in their silk cocoon and rested.
She lost track of time, and then Eddie leaned into her back, kissed her shoulder, and said, “Good, baby. Very good.” She cut the straps of Ceci’s dress and then peeled it off her body so that she stood almost naked, the slip around her waist like a cummerbund. Eddie kissed her hot, welted skin, on her shoulders, her neck, down her spine, in tiny kisses. She ran a calloused hand across the places that hurt worst. Ceci winced. She felt high and drowsy.
A plastic straw pressed against her lips. “Drink,” said Eddie. She sipped a little water and realized her thirst for it. Then the straw and Eddie vanished, and Ceci waited in the dark silence again.
No longer anxious, she could feel, almost hear, a rustling in the crowd while she rested, enjoying the moment. She had submitted to Eddie’s imaginary world and reaped a reward for it: sparkly, sexual magic.
Cold, sharp metal pointed into her ankle. Eddie’s voice traveled up from below her. “Stay very, very still, now, Ceci.”
She tensed her body and held her breath. The cold edge of a knife ran up her calf, around the back of her knee, and up her inner thigh. Eddie pressed its blunt edge against her pussy lips, through the widest swath of fabric in her slingshot panties. Hot bubbling rushed inside her.
“You like that, huh?” Eddie kissed her, hard, with lots of tongue. Ceci kissed back, her mouth open. Their chests and bellies pressed together.
Eddie pulled away, and her knife teased one nipple ring, lifting it and letting it drop, the sharp edge grazing the underside of her nipple. Then the same thing, other nipple. This was repeated, back and forth several times, and Ceci’s excitement heightened.
Eddie disappeared again. Ceci dropped to the floor suddenly, scaring herself. Her wrists must have been cut loose without warning. Onlookers murmured.
She waited for Eddie, upper torso curled on the floor, legs spread wide, still bound at each ankle to the f
rame. She wanted to touch her clit but felt too exposed. A thin cloth draped over her, and then Eddie’s body smothered hers, surrounded her, gathered her up and carried her through the mazelike room.
Eddie whispered to her while she walked. “Daddy’s very pleased, very pleased, and she’s going to reward you now.” They came to rest on a soft bed. Eddie removed Ceci’s blindfold to candlelight, and they were alone. Eddie curled up on the bed behind Ceci, spooning her, stroking her. “You did so good, Ceci. Thank you.” She played with the clasp of the collar.
Ceci purred, “Not yet, please, Daddy. I’m still yours.” The fiddling ceased, and she could feel Eddie smiling. Their cuddle tightened, and Eddie kissed her neck and nibbled her ear. Her arms reached around to Ceci’s wet pussy. Her fingers separated lips and slipped among folds, found her clitoris and stroked its length.
She moved around Ceci and situated her on her back. “I want you to come for Daddy now.” She continued to stroke her clit, the rhythm increasing. Ceci shut her eyes and concentrated on the constricting muscles in her cunt and her whole pelvis. A finger squished inside and pumped into her G-spot, then plunged very deep, toward her cervix. Ceci moaned, and Eddie continued smooth, deep strokes. Ceci’s body shuddered and tensed. Eddie stopped and leaned hard on her clit and her G-spot at once, and everything released. Air rushed into her mouth and down her throat, and she cried out. Eddie’s fingers ran down her legs with a light touch. “That’s my girl.”
Ceci curled into a fetal position, and Eddie returned to their spoon. She removed the collar and whispered in her ear, “We can’t sleep here, Ceci. It’s time to go.”
Snow fell while they hurried down the front steps of The House, Eddie’s arm draped over Ceci’s shoulders. Ceci stopped to tie her severed dress straps into clumsy bows at each shoulder and pull her coat’s furry collar close around her when the cold air woke her from the dreamy state her first sex party had created.
The dark-blue morning sky brightened while they rode up the winding roads to Twin Peaks, where the giant, red-and-white antenna towered above them.
Eddie parked among cars with steamed-up windows and laughed while she helped Ceci with her helmet. “We should knock and ask if anybody has room for us. It’s fucking freezing.”
Ceci smiled and leaned her head against Eddie’s chest. “I’m not cold,” she sighed and indulged in her buzz. Eddie’s arms wrapped around her and rocked her back and forth, gazing out over the city at dawn. The snow added billions of twinkles to the already sparkly skyline.
“I think I’m starting to like this town.”
“I thought I hated it at first,” Ceci said. “But, yeah, me too. I’m liking it, despite this crazy, cold, white stuff that’s falling on it.”
“Damnedest thing. Snow in California in summertime.”
“Can I ask you a question, Eddie?”
“I don’t promise to answer.”
The eastern sky glowed neon pink now, though the arc of sky above and behind them still loomed dark. Ceci shuddered and asked, “Who was that guy? The one who tied me up?”
“He’s a friend, Ceci. We can trust him. We’ll play with him again. You’ll like his slave girl, Elizabeth.”
“He’s a straight guy?”
“You can hardly call somebody as kinky as William straight, but yeah, he prefers women. I know him from Boston. He’s been a mentor to me.”
“I don’t know if I can handle this whole submission thing with a man,” she blurted and then added, “What kind of relationship is this, Eddie? Are we going to get into each other’s lives or are we going to do this daddy-baby girl thing?”
“Is there a difference?”
Now Ceci quieted. This snow cooled anger and muffled secrets. She didn’t want to fight with Eddie, not tonight when she felt so happy and tingly. “I think there is a difference. I think what we’re doing is play and make-believe and not a part of the real world.”
Eddie lifted Ceci’s face to hers with a finger and kissed her. “What we’re doing is very, very real.”
“I don’t even know your real name.”
“Eddie is my real name.”
“Your birth name? And what’s your last name?”
“Would that make me more real?”
They watched the pink diffuse to orange and white stripes across the bay sky. Ceci’s mind wandered back to the black wooden frame and the silk scarf. Her back still stung with painful heat. “No, don’t tell me. I like it like this—like magic.”
“Me, too.”
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROPES
Kathleen Tudor
The ropes on the young woman’s body traced back and forth like a corset from the sub’s upper arms to her wrists. “Pretty in pink,” Madame Angelie said, “but not functional.” The dom who had tied the knots looked at her in consternation, not daring to oppose her word, but clearly certain that he’d done good work.
“What do you mean?” he finally bit out, his tone properly respectful, if strained. Good, the puppy is smart.
“It’s too loose. And your knot is in the wrong place.” She waited to see how he would react to her vague statements; Angelie never bothered with doms who couldn’t be respectful of her superior knowledge, and she would downright sink him if he treated her like a doormat just because she was female.
This one, however, showed promise. Tyson took a slow breath through his nose, examining the rope work. “How can you tell?”
“Experience,” she said with a smile. Then she pointed. “Do you see how the rope barely even dents the flesh of her arms, here? There are no veins in the outer arm to cut off with tight ropes. Care must always be taken, obviously, but the ropes are too loose, particularly for a flexible sub. And Tonya is a very flexible girl, aren’t you, baby?” Tonya shrugged, a dark red flush appearing on her cheeks.
“And the knot?”
“You’re paying attention,” Angelie said, approving. “It’s between her wrists. She can reach it.” He looked stunned, so Angelie decided to prove it. “Tonya, escape,” she said.
The young woman immediately twisted her arms within the bonds, stretching for the knot and finding it easily. A few plucks, and it was loose. But she didn’t stop her bratty demonstration there. Instead, she shifted her shoulders back, putting enough slack in the arm bind that it slid from her upper arms and pooled on the floor behind her. A pretty pile of useless ropes; she could have escaped even without untying the knot.
Tyson crossed his arms, obviously irritated. “What’s the point of this? She did that on purpose!”
“Not every sub wants to meekly fold herself into position and wait for your ropes,” Angelie said, running a long fingernail down Tonya’s arm. The girl was unattached, but she and Angelie played together sometimes, and Tonya liked to demo for some of Angelie’s classes. “This one can be particularly bratty, but even the most apparently docile subs sometimes flex to expand their rope work, or wiggle when they’re tied. You have to understand what they get out of it. The thrill of trying to escape. That extra jolt of pleasure when they’re outmatched and unable…”
“Yes, Mistress Angelie,” Tyson said. Respectful, yes, but not convinced.
“You want a sub, or a doormat?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you want a sub, who will let you take whatever control you can earn, or do you want a meek little piece of furniture who stays where you put her?”
He looked taken aback. “A well-trained slave—”
“Might not leave a little slack in the rope for her own comfort, but you don’t get a well-trained slave just by asking for one. You have to know how to train them, and that means making brats like Tonya respect you.” She spanked Tonya hard, and the girl grinned and waggled her ass for more. “And you have to know what you’re working with. Some of those so-called submissives are just gluttons for punishment.” She kissed Tonya on the cheek. “What time does the sitter expect you back, honey?”
“In an hour, Madame Angelie.”
&nb
sp; “Go on, then, get yourself changed and all respectable-like. Thanks for your help, baby.” They exchanged a brief—if spicy—kiss, and Tonya vanished into the front half of the dungeon, where the dressing rooms and lockers were.
“Thank you for your time,” Tyson said, putting out his hand to shake.
Angelie waved her hand through the air. It was true, the rest of the class had already gone while she kept Tyson back for a little bonus instruction, but he was one of the good ones, and the scene needed more of those. “If you’re not in a hurry, we can continue to work on it,” she said.
His brow furrowed in confusion and he turned in the direction Tonya had gone, his mouth slightly parted as if desperate to ask a question, but not sure which question he should be asking. It was hard for Madame Angelie not to laugh at him, but she bit her tongue—men like Tyson had their pride, and she wouldn’t trample on his.
“Untangle your rope, honey. You can practice on me.”
“On you?”
“I may have a reputation for not subbing, but a good top knows how it feels to be on the bottom. No getting any ideas—this is just a demo.” She put her arms behind her back, clasping them together behind the full roundness of her ass, and turned so that Tyson could reach her arms.
“You have to know your bottom,” she said. “Her limits. Her mindset. Her quirks. Before that rope even touches my skin, I want you to push my upper arms together. Be firm; see if you can feel out my flexibility.” She had intentionally not stretched her arms toward each other when she’d put her hands behind her back. When Tyson laid his big, strong hands on her arms, she let him push her upper arms back toward each other, resisting only slightly. “That’s good. But is it as far as I can stretch? If you’re working with a new sub, ask her.”
He made a sound of understanding and started to release her, but then his grip tightened on her biceps, and Angelie smiled. “Can you go farther?”