Bound for Trouble

by Alison Tyler

  “Why yes, baby, I can.” He harrumphed and pushed harder, driving her arms back and her shoulder blades toward each other. It was actually a pretty pleasant stretch. She sighed. “Some subs will try to resist or trick you to keep the slack in their rope, but most won’t lie if you ask them a direct question. Bad manners.”

  “Now do I get the rope?”

  “Look at my arms, first. See how close they are. If they’re not that close when the rope is on, then I’m cheating you, and I can probably work myself loose.”

  She could almost feel the burn of his eyes on her upper back, and she struggled to suppress a shiver. It was…pleasant…to be admired. And she knew he was admiring.

  “Go ahead, baby, make me pretty in pink.”

  “You’re already pretty,” he murmured, his voice a low tease. And then he finally released her arms. He returned a moment later, trailing a soft, pink cotton rope between her back and her still-clasped arms, until he got to the point above the elbow where she’d taught him to begin the bind. She did shudder this time. She hated being bound, but she loved it, too. She loved everything about ropes, from the way they felt, to the way they flowed through her capable hands as she tied up a willing bottom, to the way they could contain her, biting into her skin and giving her the thing that made her thrill with fear.

  “Use your hands to help pull my arms back—don’t just pull with the rope; that can hurt. That’s the way. Now keep it tight. Do you see how I’m flexing my arms? That will give me extra give when I relax them. Watch for it, and don’t let your bottoms take advantage—not in a tie like this, anyway. You can encourage her to do it if you want a certain bind to have a little slack.” Madame Angelie—ever in control; ever the mistress—kept talking to keep the nerves at bay.

  The ropes snaked back and forth across her arms as Tyson made the patient knots she had taught him. And as he worked, she taught him every trick she knew for keeping a tie loose or escaping bondage. Taught him those tricks, and how to circumvent them. By the time he tied the final knot—woven back through the rope and well out of reach of even the most flexible fingers—she was caught and helpless, completely bound. The ropes dug into her arms, taunting her—reminding her—and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  “Well done. Do you see the differences from before?” she asked. What she wanted to say was, Get me the fuck out of this rope. Her pussy throbbed, hot and heady in response to the adrenaline. Traitorous bitch.

  “Definitely. So you can’t get out?” His voice sounded hesitant, but there was a tinge of excitement underneath.

  “No, not on my own.”

  He stepped closer and ran his fingers up her arms, and she shuddered at the unique sensation of fingers on flesh, skipping over bumps of rope. There was nothing in the world like that stuttered touch, and it was maddening.

  “So you’re helpless,” he mused. She could hear the smile in his voice. Knew he was laughing at her. Knew also that his natural, predatory instincts were not the only things aroused by a helplessly bound woman.

  She turned to face him, a teasing grin on her own face, answering his. “You, child, are in a world of trouble when you untie me.”

  “Maybe I just shouldn’t untie you, then,” he teased back. He ran his fingers up her waist this time, and she felt just the ghost of his touch through the thick fabric of her corset. He made an approving sound at the wasp waist it gave her. His fingers reached the very top, and he met her eyes with the tips of his fingers just touching the edge of her breasts. He was turned on, but he was respectful, just as she’d taught him.

  And damn him, but she was more turned on than she wanted to admit, with the ropes biting into her flesh and adrenaline thrumming through her veins. She gave him the slightest of nods, and he let his fingers continue their wandering, teasing over the raised mounds of her breasts, given volume by the generous boost of the corset. He left gooseflesh in his wake, and smiled at the sight.

  “You make one pretty sub,” he said. “Pretty in pink.”

  “But I’m not a sub, and you know it.”

  “You sure look like one right now,” he said. Her hair was up in a casual knot, and he grabbed it, pulling just enough to tip her head back, moving slowly as he bent his lips to her neck, giving her time to stop him.

  She sighed as his lips met her soft skin, and let herself swoon into him as her body woke to tingling awareness. His lips made a fiery trail up her jaw, and she gasped and tipped her head back even more, pressing into his hand on the back of her head.

  He eased slowly past her jawline, planting one more kiss on her cheek before he lost his nerve, backing away again to see her reaction. Madame Angelie laughed at his expression. “Come on and kiss me, and then untie me.”

  He swooped in to obey, and she moaned into his mouth as he took her kiss. One of his arms moved around her to play with the ropes up and down her arms, and the unsubtle reminder of her total helplessness poured through her nerves in a shimmer of tingling sparks. He bit down gently on her lip, then thrust his tongue between her teeth, claiming her and overpowering her, just a little.

  His other hand dropped lower, tickling at her thigh as he started to explore. “Enough,” she said.

  Tyson stepped back immediately, touching her only long enough to make sure she was steady on her feet. She turned, and he tugged at the ropes on her arms. Her breath came a little easier as she felt the ropes loosen and slowly fall away.

  Free at last, she took a deep, calming breath, and rolled her fingers. When she turned back, Tyson was already coiling the pretty pink cord. She glanced at her arm, enjoying the aesthetics of the rope marks, even as she shivered at the memory of being bound.

  “It looks good on you,” Tyson said. He lifted a finger and trailed it down one of the marks.

  Angelie took his finger and bent it back, putting him on his knees with a moment of leverage. “I let you cage the tiger for a few minutes, my dear, but never forget what kind of a woman you’re dealing with in me.”

  “Okay! Sorry!” She released him and he climbed back to his feet, his body language no longer telling her he was thinking of devouring her.

  She smiled. “Have you ever been tied?”

  He looked startled. “Of course not.”

  “Oh?” She quirked one eyebrow at him. “Because no dominant ever lets himself be tied up?”

  His eyes went wide as he realized what he’d implied, and he prevaricated, trying to dig himself out of his hole. She held up a hand before he could say anything even more foolish.

  “We’ll have a private session in a week or so, baby. It’s time you learn what it feels like on the other side of the ropes. If you want me to keep mentoring you, that is.”

  Tyson’s mouth was open with surprise, but he shut it slowly, considering her, and nodded. “Yes, Madame Angelie.”

  BUSINESS WEAR

  K. Lynn

  To most, David Roberts seemed to have it all. He was the vice president of a leading technology company, and lived up to the image of a high-powered executive, right down to his designer suits. But behind the sports cars and fancy dinners, there was the burden of actually running a highly successful company. He was expected to put on a happy face for the public, while behind the scenes he often worked long hours, worried and stressed out over making sure the company maintained its profits each quarter, which was never a guarantee with the fluctuations of the economy lately.

  His personal assistant, Steven, was responsible for making sure he showed up where he was supposed to and ate a meal when he had gone too long between snacks, as well as taking care of any menial errands that might distract him from his day. And the young man did it without complaint, even taking the brunt of David’s anger when the day was not going so well. Today would qualify as one of those days, and Steven had not escaped David’s tirades. His last yelling session took place about an hour before David finally left for the day, but he had not seen Steven since. The entire floor had cleared out long before David had, wi
th only the cleaning crew around to give him a nod of farewell when he emerged from his office.

  When he finally made it home to his tenth-floor penthouse, he was still tensed up from the day’s issues. One of their suppliers was playing hardball with a competitive offer from a new start-up and David was left to try to smooth it over. They couldn’t afford to lose their contract, yet their ten-year history meant nothing when a higher offer was on the table. It had taken David almost the entire day to renegotiate a deal that both sides were fine with, even though Development Designs was left paying more than David had originally wanted to. Because of the unexpected issue, his other appointments got pushed back and he would have to work overtime again tomorrow to make up for it.

  David headed through his living room and down the hallway. He was loosening his silk tie as he approached the door, but his hand stilled as he saw the pink Post-it note stuck to the shut bedroom door. It read simply STRIP. His muscles clenched at the implication, but in the back of his mind he felt a sense of relief settling over him as well. He would never relax without some help tonight, and now he had it.

  He opened the bedroom door slowly, making sure he was alone for the moment, before going through the motions that were required of him. David had done this before, but he always took great care to not rush. There were rules that he had to abide by, lest the entire session be called off.

  Standing beside the bed, he began with his shoes, setting the black leather dress shoes side by side in front of the nightstand and tucking his thin socks into them as well. Next came his red suspenders, unclipped from the waistband of his dark trousers and folded as best as the elastic would allow. He set them down on the floor beside his shoes before starting on his trousers, folding them with care as they became the next item in his growing line of clothing.

  With his lower half stripped down to just his tight white briefs, he began on his tie, which was already loosened from his earlier attempts to get comfortable. Once he had removed it from his neck, he took a moment to run his hand down the smooth blue silk. It was imported from Italy, a favored material to complement his wardrobe. David took the time to fold the tie once over, then laid it on the floor as well. Finally came the shirt, white yet no longer crisp after the day’s wear. Still, he tried not to put any more wrinkles in it as he folded and placed it on the floor, the last item in the line.

  Stripped to skin, and just the thin material of his underwear keeping him from being completely naked, David moved around to the other side of the bed and lay down upon the thin blanket that covered it. The maid had been in earlier, so everything had been put in order, as if waiting for his return. David turned his head so that he was facing the wall, away from the door and his line of clothes, and lay with his palms turned up to the ceiling. The only sound in the room was his stuttered breathing as he awaited his company. He was not allowed to look, not allowed to move or make a sound, until he was told to. He could be waiting only minutes, or laid out in anticipation for half an hour, but any violation of the rules meant the agreement would become invalid and the night’s activities wouldn’t take place. David couldn’t risk that.

  It seemed tonight wasn’t about long waits, as he heard the bedroom door opening after what seemed like only a few minutes of silence. David kept his head turned, but his ears remained attuned to the room’s other occupant. He could tell that his visitor stopped beside the line of David’s clothes, bracing a hand on the side of the mattress in order to pick up one of the items. David could wager a guess as to which piece of clothing was chosen, but he wanted to be surprised.

  David felt the mattress dip again, this time with the weight of a body slipping onto the bed and crawling across to be near David. His heart quickened as he felt a hand lay upon his right shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut with the contact. Then David felt a pressure as the other individual straddled his back. Two hands pressed on each side of David’s spine and he could feel the brush of lips against his ear as a masculine voice asked him, “Are you ready?”

  He couldn’t nod, wasn’t allowed to be nonvocal when asked a direct question, so he opened his mouth to respond. “Yes,” he paused, his voice cracking over the word, and cleared his throat to try again. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good,” the man said, then he leaned back so that he was sitting atop David’s lower back. “Put your hands above your head.”

  David did as ordered, stretching his hands up toward the brass rails of the headboard. He felt the pressure release from his back as his companion got off him. David heard the man shuffling as he neared the head of the bed.

  “Grab the rails.”

  He clenched his hands around the thin, cold rails of his headboard. David had bought it when he first moved in, drawn to the intricate detailing of the metal. When his companion saw it for the first time, he mentioned how perfect it was for their purposes. Lying there, his palms pressed against the railings as he awaited his next order, he couldn’t help but agree.

  “Good to see that you replaced the tie after the accident you had with the last one.” David could feel his wrists being bound by the material. “I find the Italian silk to be extra secure, don’t you?” His companion pulled tight on the restraints to secure them and David let out an involuntary gasp at the flash of pain it caused.

  “Yes, Sir,” David managed to say.

  The man ran his fingers down over David’s arms, over the stretched muscles of his shoulders and back. He paused at David’s ass, giving a soft pat to the cotton material before trailing down over his thighs to his ankles.

  “No belt today, I see,” the man said, pulling at David’s right ankle. “But this will be better. More give for you to pull against.”

  With that, he started wrapping something elastic around David’s ankle, pulling the binding back toward the end of the bed. It took David a moment to realize that his suspenders were being used. The elastic material did not weigh against his ankles as his leather belt had in previous sessions, but it did dig into his skin more. And even with the minor flinching he was doing while his companion got him secure, he was already starting to feel the strain. David was likely to have raw marks around his ankles before this was over.

  “Are we ready to begin?”

  David could feel his heart speed up. He steadied his voice before he chanced a word. “Yes, Sir, I’m ready.”

  “Good.”

  He could hear the man moving away from the bed and then there was the sound of wood scraping against wood. David knew what that was, even without looking. His companion had just opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, the one dedicated to these sessions specifically. Inside were a few implements, but they all served the same purpose. He needed release and his companion was going to provide that.

  Soon the man was back beside the bed, his left hand laid flat against David’s back. “You’re tense.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And you’d like me to do something about that.” It wasn’t a question, but he would demand a verbal answer.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “A massage perhaps?” The man dug his fingers into David’s skin, pressing against the tight muscles on each side of his spine.

  “No, Sir. I need something else.”

  “Maybe you need this.” And, without giving him a chance to tense up, a pain erupted across David’s ass as the flat edge of the paddle came into contact with his underwear-covered buttocks. He didn’t have to guess what choice the man had made for tonight; the first hit had confirmed it. The paddle was black leather on one side, able to inflict pain with each swing, but was covered with soft fur on the opposite side to provide some soothing when necessary. It did little when he wasn’t fully naked, but it was nice to have the option.

  “Did that hurt?” the man asked, rubbing his right hand along David’s buttocks. The handle of the paddle trailed over David’s sensitive skin as his companion held it and soothed at the same time.

  “It felt good, Sir.”

  “I’m sure it di
d.” The man trailed the soft fur-lined side of the paddle down David’s leg until he reached his bound ankles. “Do your bindings feel good, too?”

  His companion must have clenched down on some part of the suspenders then because they were suddenly too tight, biting into David’s ankles. David arched up, pulling against the headboard, trying to release the rush of pain, but it did little to help.

  “What’s the matter?” the man asked, landing another blow on David’s ass. “Afraid to admit how much you like it?”

  “No, Sir,” David gasped out, unable to move anywhere without some part of him aching. His ankles would give a little, thanks to the elastic, but then he was pulled back with a firm jolt if he stretched too far. The silk tie had tightened its knot so that it, too, was digging into his skin. Back and forth he went, seesawing between headboard and footboard as the restraints allowed. He tried to flinch away from the paddle by pressing his body deeper into the mattress, but the combined motions had awakened his cock and it was starting to grow firmer with each touch. Pain from the top, pleasure from below, building and growing.

  “How much do you need it?” Another blow landed. “Tell me.”

  “I need it,” David said, pressing his body back down to the bed and grinding into the sheets. “Please, Sir, I need it.”

  “Do you feel trapped?”

  David pulled at the tie, but it no longer had any give. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Just like you feel trapped at work, all day putting up with the stupidities of others, trying to smooth over their mistakes so that the company doesn’t suffer.” When David didn’t respond, another blow came down. “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” David said, his voice shaking. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And then you take it out on others, cascading down until everyone is as tense as you are.” A hand soothed down his back, fingers lightly massaging the tightness there. “But it doesn’t help, does it? Nothing helps except this, isn’t that right?”