The Crimson Rope

by London Saint James

  How does that sit with you?

  She almost bit her lip before she heard Rob's voice in her head. 'Pet, you don't mark yourself. I do that.'

  Maisie took a shuddering in breath, and exhaled noisily. Even those few lines of his thoughts made her pussy throb. So that was what she needed to say. But how? Being articulate in person was a lot easier than writing things she'd only ever dreamed about. She went to the fridge and got a bottle of Chenin Blanc out. Dutch courage perhaps, but it was needed. Maybe a glass or two would take the edge off. Even the slight chafe of her jeans over her thong was enough to get her clit tingling. She clamped down on the stabs of excitement that hit her at regular intervals, poured the wine, and snagged a chunk of cheese before going back into the lounge. First she needed to copy the email into the journal. Maisie prided herself on her handwriting, but she hadn't used a fountain pen since high school, when they’d all had a week of school, 1950s style.

  She ran her fingertips over the smooth cylinder and touched the nib to her palm. It tickled as she drew it diagonally over the mound of Venus. Without ink it made no mark except a slight indentation that lifted as soon as the nib moved on.

  Ink. Duh, dummy … I need ink. Maisie opened the other package, and laughed. Of course Rob had thought of that. The smaller parcel was a bottle of blue-black ink, and the booklet on how to fill the fountain pen. Maisie set to work and copied the first email.

  She'd just finished when her laptop made the frog tone that signified an incoming email. Maggie pulled up the appropriate page and grinned.

  Talk about timing. She opened it. It was very short, shorter than usual, and Rob's emails were always brief and to the point.

  'Do you have your present? Are you going to use it?'

  Maisie made sure her answer was also succinct and to the point. 'Yes, I've started.'

  She didn't expect an answer, but five minutes later, the laptop 'croaked' again.

  'Good girl. One a night.'

  So it was going to be at least a week or so until Rob was back. Maisie felt the lump of sadness fill her and threaten to spill over into tears. She would scribe all night if it meant he'd come back sooner. But he wasn't going to, so now she needed to formulate how she felt about that first email and what it meant.

  'Rereading your first email helped me understand how much I need to explore what we may have, Sir. Yes. I've written Sir on purpose. Even though you're not here, this seems like a scene to me. You're directing unless I say otherwise, yes?

  I think, no, I know the thought of that is making me just as you said. Wet and needy, and my thong is damp. I so want to make myself come, but I won't.'

  Maisie read what she'd written. There was so much she could say, but she wanted to be open and honest, and just write what that specific email brought to her mind.

  'It made me realize how much I miss you, and how I do want to see what we might have.'

  Satisfied, she closed the journal and retied the ribbons. She intended to be able to look Rob in the eye and state she'd done exactly as he demanded. Demanded was the correct word, as nothing else seemed so perfect, and so him. How had she missed the signs, or dismissed them so easily? Perhaps because he'd ignored her come-on and hints until he felt the time was right. Maisie knew well that until recently she'd been much too immature to be the sub he needed. Even now she wasn't sure she could be everything he insisted upon. Should she tell him she obeyed his diktat?

  Why not? He didn't say I shouldn't. And even that little communication made him seem closer. Before she changed her mind, Maisie typed four words. 'First session completed, Sir', and pressed send.

  There were no frog croaks.

  ****

  Several days later and several more pages of her journal written, and her nails bitten, Maisie fell onto her bed with a groan.

  It had been the day from hell, with miserable and unhappy customers, including one who thought coconut cake shouldn't have coconut in it, only look like one, and one who said her cup of coffee was too big. The last thing Maisie had felt like doing was making herself all hot and bothered by reading and answering the email she'd woken to, and then not being able to do anything about it.

  Nevertheless, after a cup of tea and a soak in the bath, she reached for her laptop and her journal and began to read and write. Rob had headed that particular email, Five…'How can I make you scream?' His examples included how he'd attach clamps and a chain to her nipple and tug on the chain until the pain made her nipple just the right shade of red.

  'Then I'd bend you over my knee, so the chain dangled and I could weight it if I thought you'd need it. Are you getting wet, sweet? Is your clit throbbing and is your cream coating your legs? Whilst I had that delectable ass presented to me, I'd take your soft thudding flogger to your ass and redden it to the color of your lips. Then maybe, just maybe, I'd let you fly. And demand you scream your pleasure for me. What do you think?'

  Her answer to that email was short and to the point. 'I'd scream. I'm wet, hot, aroused and need to come. I'm going for a jog instead.'

  Chapter Three

  After a night of tossing and turning, and moving her hand back from her clit more times than she could remember, Maisie overslept. She jumped out of bed as her doorbell rang three times in quick succession, tripped over her Kermit slippers and almost fell flat on her face.

  The bell rang again, and if ever a noise was impatient, that was it.

  "Okay, where's the fire?" Maisie stumbled across the bedroom with one slipper on and grabbed her dressing gown. She didn't think whoever it was deserved the sight of her in a Hello Kitty nightie with a hole under the armpit. Getting the robe on whilst taking the stairs two at a time was a feat in itself, but she got to the door just as she tied the belt around her waist.

  The next ring was comprised of three short stabs on the bell, and Maisie unlocked the door with a snarl and a, "What the hell's your problem?"

  The guy on her doorstep took a step back and held a large brown parcel out to her. She took it automatically, and wondered who was sending her things.

  "I've got a schedule to keep. Sign here." He popped his gum and showed a set of teeth that any dentist would give an eyetooth to work on.

  Maisie grit her own teeth, took the electronic signing pad and scrawled her name. "Thank you." After all, it wasn't his fault she'd overslept.

  Work. Shit and hellfire. Maisie kicked the door shut with her foot, and looked at her watch. Luckily it was only ten minutes or so past the time her alarm should have rung. She took the parcel with her into the kitchen, and glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was blinking. That solved the question of why the alarm hadn't gone off. There'd been a power cut at some point in the night. Thank goodness it was over and the power restored. She'd be the first to admit that Maisie without coffee wasn't a pretty sight.

  Maisie switched the kettle on and dashed upstairs to shower. As much as she wanted to see her present, she had responsibilities. The first of which was opening up the shop. It was her early shift. They'd decided when they created the store, that the early morning commuters deserved good coffee, so they opened at eight.

  Damp and dressed, she poured her coffee—instant because she had no time to wait for the machine to do its gurgle and drip act—and stared at her package. There was nothing to say who sent it or even where it was posted.

  Well it doesn’t tick so I guess it's not a bomb. She'd prefer to know whom it came from but maybe it said so inside? There was only one way to find out. If she forwent her cereal she had time to open it. It was a no brainer. Maisie grabbed the kitchen knife and slid it under the tape that sealed the edges of the box.

  The first thing she came to was a letter, one heavy sheet of vellum inscribed with her name, and 'read first'. She gave a quick glance at the time, and dashed upstairs for her clothes, carrying the letter with her. As she pulled on bra and knickers and wriggled into a sundress and sandals, she started to read.

  'Pet, if you're reading this you'll know I'm thin
king of you. I'm looking forward to coming home, and hoping you'll be waiting for me, as I want. On that note, if you are willing, then use this. I like a nice shaven and bare pussy. So I, and you can see everything. So when I redden your cunt and make it the same color as your lips—both sets of lips, I'll be able to see that. If you're happy, then please bare your all tonight, and keep it like that. The enclosed will help.

  I'm counting the hours until, with your agreement, I push my cock into you and fuck you until we're both sated. Until I create a perfect design in wax on you, and Shibari tie you and let you fly. Yes I know, not literally, but there's more than one way to do that.

  Think about it. Oh, and no climaxing until I say so.

  It was signed with a simple 'R'.

  She thought about it all day, he hadn't needed to ask. When she unwrapped the rest of the parcel, she found a state-of-the-art bikini line trimmer with so many different attachments the mind boggled. Did people really need a template to trim their pubic hair into a heart shape? It seemed so. That was one attachment she wouldn't need then.

  By the time her working day finished she was a mass of anticipation. For a change she didn't have her dinner before she planned the rest of her evening, as she needed to get started before she changed her mind. It was as well she'd charged the razor up before she'd left for work, otherwise Maisie had the hollow stomach and dry mouth feeling that told her she would have chickened out if she had waited.

  First things first: She might well need Dutch courage before she finished, but maybe alcohol wasn't the answer. The last thing she wanted was to take chunks out of her pussy due to a shaking hand. Or, she amended, a hand shaking more than she was sure it was going to. Perhaps she'd better strip, or at least take everything off from the waist down. There was no point in hitching her skirt up around her waist. After all no one was likely to come in and disturb her, and she didn't even have a cat to sit and stare and give her marks out of ten for artistic effort. She wriggled out of her skirt and knickers, and in the end stripped off her T-shirt. Her bra had been removed as she walked into the house, as usual. Maisie sometimes wondered what it must look like to anyone who was around. She was flicking the clasp with one hand as she turned the key in the lock.

  The only time Maisie had ever been bare 'down there', was when she'd had her appendix out. The itching as the hair grew back had been excruciating, and she'd vowed never again. Now though, if the hair came off it would have to stay off. Well, that was what Rob wanted, wasn't it? Dare to bare, bare it all, bare and beautiful, whatever you called it, the idea was now oh so good.

  Even if we don't stay together. Maisie shut that thought out, and found a sharp pair of scissors to trim the hair to a length she decided would work with the razor. She sniggered to herself as she stretched out the wiry strands. Who'd have thought they were so long? No wonder people laughed about plaiting them, it was almost possible. That thought made her cough, and she had to wipe her watering eyes.

  Ten minutes later she looked at herself in the mirror and grinned. She'd never made a good hairdresser—or beautician—that was for sure. Her pubic hair might be shorter, but there was short and tidy and there was tufty and a mess. Hers was now the latter. If she'd had second thoughts on whether to shave or not, they'd been blasted away now. There was no way she could stay like that even if she wanted to. Maisie read the instructions for the fourth time, and decided which attachment would be best. Then she took a deep breath and put the razor next to her skin. The buzz of the machine and the gentle tingle as it stroked across the soft skin was more of a turn-on than she needed.

  Was it possible to not come as you teased and played and shaved your way around your clit? Maisie guessed it must be, but for a newbie like her, it was bloody hard work. When she finally switched the razor off and admired her bare and on-show pussy, with its lips and clit peeking out and demanding attention, she wondered how on earth it had taken her so long to 'dare to be bare'. It felt amazing. Perfect and liberating. What a pity I can't shout it out loud. I, Maisie Morrison am no longer a bare-all virgin. A thought hit her. Dare she? What the hell, why not? Mind made up, Maisie grabbed her phone and before she had the chance to think about what she was doing took several pictures—up close and personal. She stared at them critically. Her pussy looked good, and even though the photos were for her own personal viewing, she was glad she'd taken them. Then she logged on to the email account Rob used to contact her, and pressed 'send attachment'.

  A growl and a rumble from her stomach reminded Maisie that she'd had nothing to eat since her yoghurt and fruit at lunchtime, and she still needed to do her journal. That was something she was looking forward to, after food. If she did it before she was sure her hunger would translate into I need to come now.

  The frog croak had her scrambling to her laptop.

  Seven words. 'Very good, Pet. I'm proud of you.' She'd bet her grin stretched from ear to ear. Such simple sentiments, but they gave her a bigger high that any illegal substance could.

  Chapter Four

  Several hours later she shut her journal and settled down in bed. Tonight she'd answered his email of, ‘Six…Pet, I'd like to take you with me one day to a club and show everyone how you come for me. If we do, how should we do this? I'll only ask you once, so think very carefully. What would make you forget where we were, forget that so many subs were watching and wishing they were you? Would you let me share your pleasure? Let another Dom show you how he could make you fly? Or are you all mine? Is your climax for me alone?'

  She shivered, and began to type quickly.

  'The idea of scene-ing in semi-public excites me, and now I'm wet again. But the idea of you sharing me makes me want to run away and hide. Please, Sir, no.'

  It was no wonder she had a somewhat disturbing dream. She was standing in an arena somewhere, and Rob was holding her hands out wide to show her naked body off.

  "This pretty little sub is on offer tonight. As her Dom I've put her in the auction, all monies to charity. She's ready for a good flogging and maybe a little role-play. Doctor and patient, anyone?"

  Several men, all masked, all large, and all exuding Dom-power came up and poked and prodded her. One cupped her cunt and she kicked out.

  "Feisty sub." He swung his hand and sideswiped her ass.

  Rob raised one eyebrow but didn't let go of her. "Too much too soon, G."

  "You're telling me." Maisie was wriggling in earnest. She tried to evade someone tugging on her nipple clamps. That pain was no more acceptable than the sharp crop striking her ass. She was Rob's, only Rob's. She'd had enough. "No, bugger it … no, no. Red, you bastard, red … no…"

  She fell out of bed again, the sheets tangled around her legs once more, sobbing hard and shaking uncontrollably at the dream. This was no good. She needed to see Rob in the flesh, talk through her fears and get his reassurance that all would be well. He'd never do anything like that—would he? Maisie admitted she had no idea.

  She worried about it all day, until in the end Rissa drew her to one side.

  "What's up? You've looked like someone stole your vibrator and left you a carrot."

  "If only it were that simple," Maisie said in a gloomy voice she hated hearing. "But somehow I don't think it is."

  "Ah," Rissa rolled her eyes. "My lovely brother and his continued absence?"

  "In a way, but more his, er…" Maisie trailed off. It was just too embarrassing to say, 'Hey, is your brother a sadist?'

  "Ah," Rissa nodded. "His BDSM persona. He's showing he's more than a loving Dom. Oh, let me rephrase that … he's showing you some of the more unusual ways of giving you pleasure?"

  "I guess you could put it like that. Oh shoot, Rissa, has he always been sadistic or am I reading it all wrong?" Maisie knew she was as red as her dress. Dammit, when will I grow out of this juvenile habit?

  Rissa's laughter was as unexpected as it was welcome. Whatever Maisie had expected, it wasn't that. Half of her fear disappeared and the other half loosened its strangle
hold around her heart.

  "Oh honey," Rissa hugged her so tightly her bra wires dug into Maisie's chest. "He's a Dom. It's what he does. Not sadism, but pushing you further than you think you’ll want to go. Until you say no, or pepper, or for-fucks-sake enough. Whatever your safe word is." She leaned back and stared hard into Maisie's eyes. 'You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

  "Yes," Maisie was indignant. She might be a newbie, but she did read, and they did own an alternative bookshop. "He's so drummed all that into me and I'm not that thick. Even though I've hardly had a chance to use it," she added gloomily. "One night and off he went."

  "Aw, honey, it won't be long now surely. Just get ready to be the perfect sub, if that's what you want."

  That was the problem. Maisie was no longer sure what she wanted. Still, she went home in a lot better mood than she'd left.

  The thought that she only had two more emails to read and answer lifted her spirit a bit. The realization that she still had no idea when he'd be back didn't, but she was determined her bout of misery was over.

  That decided, Maisie unlocked her door and bent down to pick up her post from the floor.

  "Almost ready for me, Pet? I like that."

  She fell flat on her face.

  Maisie had always thought the expression, 'her heart stopped beating' was over the top. Now she didn't. Nor the expression, 'nearly wet myself'. That was spot on as well. She screeched, and rolled into a ball, as she fumbled for her keys. What was it they said, go for the eyes with your fingers and the balls with your knee, and if neither is possible, dig your keys where you can reach?

  She tried, but didn't get far.

  "Naughty, naughty." His voice was amused. "Poor sweet, did I startle you? Surely you knew Rissa had given me your spare key and I'd be waiting?"

  No, she hadn't known that. She'd have words with Rissa.

  "I guess she thought you'd like to surprise me," Maisie mumbled as she got her breathing under control and made sure she hadn't peed herself. She sneaked an upward glance to see Rob frown. "Hey, it's no biggie, not now I know I'm not going to die of shock and you're not burglar Bill."