Sweet Backlash

by Violet Heart

  Don't stop.

  Releasing her grip, she explored his length by feel. His breath caught, giving her another rush of power. She only hoped the pleasure she gave him matched what he did to her. Trying to concentrate on the supple skin of his tip, her finger learned the shape of his hole and delighted in the drop of moisture that seeped out.

  He sent his finger back again, dipped into the moisture that now dripped along her thigh, and came forward for another flick. Colors blossomed behind her lids, better than any fourth of July celebration she had ever witnessed. He repeated the technique and she approached the pinnacle of orgasm.

  Please, don't stop.

  Needing more support, she let the rope slide off her arm to the floor and she reached around to twine her fingers with the ones of his bound hand. His chest, so warm and strong against her cheek, gave her a sense of security. Not sure how, or why, she knew he would stop if she spoke the word.

  Flick. Stroke. Flick. Stroke. Flick. She cried out as her insides shuddered with ecstasy. So close.

  "Stroke me," he said, his voice strangled.

  She sent her hand from tip to base and back, keeping her fingers wrapped snuggling around him. At the same time, he took her clit between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle roll then a pluck. They cried out simultaneously. "Aa-Aa-Aa!"

  Her world collapsed, the apartment crumbling around her. Only she and this man existed in the universe. With three quick strokes, her nub between his fingers, he sent her over the edge. She came apart, her back arching so far it thrust her soul into the stars. She floated, weightless in the sparkling blackness, and then settled, quivering, back to earth and into his embrace.

  His embrace? When had he put his arm around her? He held her close and she liked it. Damn him.

  "You defied me." Her heart wasn't in her accusation. Even to her own ears she sounded as if she'd run a mile.

  He chuckled. "You started it." He not only sounded winded, he still had tension in his voice.

  She realized her hand continued to hold his hard-on. He hadn't come. She had work to do.

  Her muscles soft and objecting, she forced them into motion. As much as she wanted to lay and take time to recover from that incredible release, she had yet to deliver on her promise of a reward. Pulling from his warmth, she picked up the rope.

  His mouth fell open for a moment in a look of disbelief. "You're still going to bind me? After that? I thought we'd move on to better things." He gave her a meaningful look.

  "We are," she said. "Just not the 'things' you think." Taking his other wrist, she duplicated the other knot, repeatedly brushing the frayed end along his cock.

  With a tight voice, he asked, "Wasn't it good for you?"

  She stopped and looked him in the eye with all seriousness. "It was so good, I can't put it in words."

  "Then let's finish. Let me make you come again, the old-fashioned way." One side of his mouth quirked in a half smile.

  "It's about your reward, slave." His head rocked back, as though she had slapped him, and she regretted calling him slave. Melony folded his arm back and brought the rope over his shoulder with a subtle caress. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than that."

  "Do I?" he asked, skepticism dropping his voice an octave.

  Grazing her fingernails across the ridges of his abdomen, she wrapped the rope round and round before securing a loop and measuring the end to his groin. She got to her feet. Stepping away to get some distance from him, she put her hands on her hips. "Have you changed your mind? We can stop if you want."

  * * * *

  If Chip hadn't seen her fall apart in his arms, he could believe she had no interest in continuing. He did see, though. He detected an undercurrent of electricity emanating from her. She had something in mind, something she wanted. Or needed.

  "I want to keep going. What's next?" He shifted, his knees aching.

  A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, but she seemed to fight it. "Can you stand, or do you need my help?"

  Bringing a knee forward, he planted his foot and heaved off the floor. His dick ached, begging to bury itself in those glorious curls between her legs. He didn't think she would let it get that far…this time.

  "How are you doing?" she asked, tugging and testing his bonds. Her smooth, elegant fingers drove him crazy, traveling over him with surety and expertise.

  "I'm fine."

  "Let's get a little more comfortable, shall we?" She indicated he should sit on the bed. Retrieving the brown rope, a thinner cord made of a smoother, shinier material, she asked, "Can I get you to crisscross your legs?"

  Uh-oh. "Yes," he answered, unable to keep reluctance from his tone.

  Melony fed a bit of line to his thigh and ran it up to his hip. He didn't miss the slight tremble in her hand. Loving the telltale indication that his pleasuring had affected her after all, he suppressed a smug grin.

  "How does the bed feel?"

  She slid the rope along the crevice between his arm and ribs, higher to rub against the edge of his armpit, then around the back of his neck and down the other side. Its smooth, rich texture moved along his skin much like he imagined her lips would feel if following the same path.

  "Firm," he said, not wanting to talk anymore. He needed her hands on him, needed relief.

  She bent to tie the end of the russet rope to the end of the brown, and her breasts spilled from the shelf bra enough to free her nipples completely. The rosy areolas puckered around fine, erect centers. Licking his lips, he longed to feel them on his tongue.

  When she finished the knot, she put a hand on his chest and urged him to the mattress. "Cross your legs with your knees pointed at the ceiling. Not too tight. I want you comfortable."

  He did as she instructed, aware every bit of his package lay open to her scrutiny. It made him harder. He couldn't remember ever having a hard-on for so long without being inside a woman.

  She ran the cord past his scrotum and worked with it there, her knuckles brushing against his balls and cock and making his eyes cross with pent up passion. If he didn't come soon, he would implode.

  Working quickly, she wrapped the rope around his upper thigh, secured it to the opposite foot, then repeated the lines on the other side. "Okay. Try that."

  He flapped his knees and yelled out in rapture as knots, resting on either side of the ridge running just behind his testicles, rubbed their silken edges in heavenly strokes. He couldn't take much more.

  She draped a fresh towel across his stomach and crawled onto the bed beside him. Whispering in his ear, she breathed, "Do it again."

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he moved his knees slower, concentrating on the knots, and let go. Instant relief washed over him as he shot his cum onto the terrycloth. As he lay unmoving, part of him was grateful and impressed with her knowledge, and part of him resented her. This seemed a mixture of masturbation and something wholly unique to his experience. He exhaled in frustration, not entirely accepting the situation.

  "Are you okay?" Her voice told him she lay near, but she didn't touch him and he hated that.

  Suddenly angry, he demanded, "Untie me. I've had enough." The towel slid from his middle, and he turned his head to look at her.

  She didn't see him. She sat staring at her hands folding the towel. An expression of sadness pulled at her beautiful features. Her bottom lip quivered a moment before she said, "I've been awful to you, but please give me a chance."

  He swallowed, afraid to say something wrong.

  She glanced at him. Surprise flashed across her features a moment before she lowered her emotionless mask. "It's just that…"

  He gave her time to finish her thought, and when she didn't, he said, "Okay."

  "Okay?"

  "Yeah. Okay. I'll give you a chance." Though he couldn't understand why, considering his position. "I'm actually pretty comfortable."

  Her countenance lifted, although sadness remained about her eyes. "It's a harness," she explained. "The ropes are counterweighted,
thigh to foot, foot to thigh. And you can roll. You've got freedom of movement within the position."

  "So, what do you want to do? You want me to roll?"

  She smiled, a genuine one. "No, unless you want to."

  He shook his head. "I'm fine where I am."

  "Well then, I'd like to touch you. Is that alright?"

  "Kiss me first." He had to taste those luscious lips.

  She lay on her side and propped her head on her hand. "I'd rather not."

  "Why? My breath shouldn't stink. I brushed my teeth. I go to the dentist regularly." Was he repulsive?

  "I think you have very nice teeth," she said. "And no, your breath doesn't stink. I'm just not into kissing."

  What kind of answer was that? "Not into kissing? Who have you been doing it with? Can't be with anyone who knows what he's doing. Give me a chance. Let me show you what kissing is about."

  "Sure of yourself, aren't you?" She poked him playfully in the shoulder.

  "All I'm saying is that kissing is fun. And when done right, it's sexy as hell." He stared at her lips, hoping she'd lean in and let him show her the proof behind his words.

  "No thanks. If your kiss last night at the society meeting is any indication of your idea of fun, I'll pass."

  Groaning, he rolled his eyes. "I was a jerk and I'm sorry. I've never treated a woman like that. I don't know why I got so aggressive with you. That's not who I am."

  "Who are you then?" Her gaze went to his flaccid johnson, which tried to stir but didn't quite have it together yet. She reached down and cradled it in her fingers. "It's amazing, something so soft can get so big and hard."

  Big and hard. That's right, baby. Damn it, his ego would get him in trouble if he didn't knock it off. "Come on," he urged. "Kiss me. Just once."

  She gave him a skeptical sideways glance. Then she conceded. "Okay. Just once."

  Chapter 10

  Melony resisted his appeal. Even trussed in her pretty ropes, Chip exuded a power, an attraction she found hard to ignore. The way he stared at her mouth made her yearn for his kiss. His look of desire manifested as a touch deep inside, as if he reached in and stirred her passion.

  She wanted to kiss him. More, she wanted him to kiss her. This session had less to do with wants than establishing rules of give and take. Who was she trying to kid? She may have come into play with that in mind, but the moment she let him break the rule of touching without punishment, anything other than pleasure escaped her intent. When he had sent a bold finger into her slit… Oh, God.

  She closed her eyes. What was it that made him so different from every other man? Why did she ache for his touch when the idea of any other man touching her made her want to do violence. Why did she care about his pleasure?

  "Kiss me," he said.

  No. If she believed in magic, she might think he'd put a spell on her. The aura of safety around him had lulled her into a false sense of security. She couldn't trust it. She wanted not to trust him.

  Against her will, she did, though. Gazing into his eyes, she discovered something indefinable, unrecognizable, yet alluring. She silently pleaded for him to ask her one more time.

  As if seeing the asking in her eyes, he said, "Please, Melony."

  Yes. Stretching out alongside him, she suspended her face above his for a moment to soak in that special something in his stare. When her lips touched his, the contact instantly catapulted her to another dimension—one where she had no past, no dark and twisty demons, no hesitation. Where she had no future, no doubts, no fears. All she had was the moment, with him, in bliss.

  His lips, though firm, had no hardness against hers. Everything had give, including the ropes between them that rubbed against her exposed nipples and brought them to keen attention. Slanting her face, she settled deeper into the kiss, her nostrils a hair's breadth from his cheek. She inhaled a mixture of minty toothpaste, deodorant soap, and a spicy, heavy scent she suspected belonged only to him. It intoxicated her, creating a thirst for more.

  Running a hand along his jaw, she delighted in the thick stubble that made her palm tingle. She combed her fingers into his hair, noting its thickness, surprising softness, and the damp still clinging after his shower. His lips moved against hers and she imitated the movements, cascading them into a devouring frenzy.

  Her own desire scared her. She broke the kiss.

  But he wouldn't let her go. He lifted his head off the bed, curled within the restrains of his bindings and rolled, forcing her on her back. A strangled cry of pleasure bubbled from his chest and tore from his throat, and she knew her perineum knots had done their work. She gasped as his shoulder pinned hers to the mattress and one of his knees landed between her thighs. His warmth covering her like an electric blanket in winter, he eased his weight against her. In her hand still holding his cock, he began to lengthen and grow firm.

  She expected another assault similar to the one he inflicted the night before, but he came down slowly, his eyes never leaving hers until their lips met once more. She caressed her thumb along the top of his penis, and it grew more while he inhaled a sharp breath through his nostrils. Ruling the kiss, he slanted over her mouth, this way and that, demanding a response she too willingly gave. His mouth came down on hers, again and again, with gentle insistence and assertiveness. He knew what he wanted, and he meant business.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed when he left her lips to graze her cheek with his jaw. The beard stubble sent shockwaves of awareness along her nerves. He leaned closer and dipped his head to run the rough texture along the underside of her ear and down her neck.

  A jolt of lightening heat raced ahead of his course, into her chest to leave her breasts heavy and hot. The electricity forged a path from each nipple to a meeting spot above her bellybutton, where it joined with double the strength and slammed into her womb with a force that left her breathless. Her core quivered with need, and the lips of her pussy swelled with prickly pressure.

  Not able to stand the throb that increased in insistence with every beat of her heart, she reached down and stroked the turgid tissues to get relief. Chip raised his head and glanced past his shoulder. Groaning, he looked into her eyes. Fire burned in his dilated pupils. With a hunger that matched her own, he captured her lips and pressed with urgency, his penis now fully erect and throbbing in her hand.

  She lowered her lids and opened her mouth to him, letting her knees fall to each side to give her fingers better access. Her juices flowing over her rhythmic fingers, Melony welcomed Chip's thrusting tongue. Excitement swept her into an incomparable sea of sensation.

  He still tasted a bit like strawberries and coffee, but mostly sweet, clean mint slid over her taste buds. His questing tongue, smooth and hot, skimmed the roof of her mouth, ran along the backside of her smile, then engaged her in a sensual duel she eagerly joined. The duel turned to a dance, and she matched his pace with her fingers' movements along her folds.

  He took her tongue between his lips and sucked. A sharpness stabbed the top of her slit, and she touched a fingertip to the spot to find her clit hard and jutting to a point, like a rosebud. He sucked again. She grazed her finger over the tip of the nub. Pinpoints of light exploded behind her lids, and she began a spiral upward. Starting a new beat, he sucked in time to the throb of his cock in her hand, and she matched it with her fingers gently gliding in a plucking motion up her rosebud. In no time, she spun into release, arching and clinging to the ropes that wrapped around his waist.

  When she returned to her senses, she found Chip watching her with a bemused smirk. In her hand, his dick still pulsed. "How are your hands?" she whispered, unable to achieve greater volume.

  "Wanting to be on your stunning tits," he said with a grin.

  He joked—a good sign he maintained an acceptable comfort level. In that case, she had one last exploration before she removed his bonds. Smiling, she shoved at his shoulder and rolled him to his back.

  "Are we finished?" he asked.

  Melony swung her le
gs off the bed and went to the side where his knees pointed skyward. "I have something I want to do, first."

  He lifted his head off the sheets to look at her through his crisscrossed legs. "Should I be worried?"

  She smiled. "We'll see."

  Fascinated, she went to her knees on the carpet and splayed a hand on each of his thighs, her thumbs barely touching the perineum knots. To see what would happen, she leaned forward and drew her tongue upward between them. He dropped his head to the mattress and sucked a loud breath through his teeth. The skin over his balls wrinkled and writhed in slow motion.

  Touching a finger to the sack, she was surprised to discover it cool. She grazed her nails along the rope that rode his inner thighs, and he groaned. She loved how giving him pleasure filled her with a sense of control that outshone any she had experienced wielding her bullwhip. Reaching her goal, her ultimate target of curiosity, she took his rod between her two palms and stroked from tip to base, letting her fingers feel its length.

  "You're torturing me," he said so low it came out a growl.

  "I told you, that's my favorite thing to do in the whole world. Do you like this torture better than my whip?" she asked, running her fingertips along his length again, feeling the cushioned tip, the thin, smooth skin below the ridge of his circumcision, and the corded steel underneath.

  "Oh, God, yes. Torture me like this anytime." He lay perfectly still, as if moving might make her stop or scare her away.

  The one thing she had wanted to do since first seeing his cock up close that morning was taste it. She wouldn't let anything stop her now.

  The telephone rang. Melony shrugged. Probably Kathy with a million questions about what happened at the meeting. She waited while it rang two more times.

  "You gonna get that?" he asked, his voice so strained he didn't sound like himself.