“But we’ll take the seatbelts off once we’re in the air, why wear them at all?”
“Most accidents happen during take-off and landing, and your chances of surviving drastically increase if you’re belted in.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you’re horny, why are we talking about seatbelts?”
“Because I’m horny, and I want to be in bed and not in this damned seat.”
She saw his thumb move on the control and the vibrator jerked into a staccato rhythm. She pulled her feet onto the seat in front of her ass and pushed her hips into the seatbelt. “Oh, god. Please tell me what kind of vibrator that is so I can buy one and take it home. Shit, I’m going to come...”
He turned it off, amused with himself. “Not yet. I want you on edge until we start.”
When they were finally airborne and the captain let Travis know they could unfasten their seatbelts, he said, “Stand up and grasp your hands behind your back.”
She did as instructed, and he asked, “Can you straighten your elbows?”
It was terribly uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but she managed.
He moved her to the bed and had her kneel in the center and repeat the position with her arms. His hands skillfully wrapped rope around them, weaving a complex spiderweb in a matter of minutes. She relaxed her elbows again, as much as the rope would allow, and he said, “Keep them straight Cara. Here, let’s just lay you down. Come off your knees and lean back, please.”
Before long he had her lying on her back, on top of her bound arms, with her legs trussed out to the sides and pulled up as far as her muscles would allow. The stretch in her shoulders, chest, and legs overpowered her arousal, and everything hurt.
“Yellow Travis. It’s too much.”
“Can you give me three minutes to make it better before deciding if I need to loosen the ropes?”
She took a breath and considered, wrinkling her brow as she said, “I think so, but this doesn’t feel sexy.”
He smiled and ran his hand down her stomach, beside her clit, and circled it. “Oh, I think it’s very sexy. Let me show you something.”
He reached to the bottom of the bed and retrieved a blanket in the same odd pattern as the sheets. She hadn’t realized the folded blanket had been there, it’d blended so well. He tossed it over her right leg, lining it up with her hip, and it suddenly looked as if she didn’t have a leg.
He reached to the foot of the bed again and came up with another identical blanket, which he threw over her left leg.
The affect brought to mind the stories of women having their legs amputated to make their holes more available, easier to access; and her hips pushed up involuntarily as her blood shot straight to boiling.
His look was a little cocky now and she recognized the transformation as he went into role-play. He stood to undress, saying, “It took a while for you to heal from the surgery, but the doctor’s finally given the okay for me to use something other than your mouth. You’ve had six weeks to get used to being stored when not in use, put on the toilet every two hours to see if you need to go, and being wiped by others since you can’t do anything for yourself with no arms or legs. You’re primarily fed a liquid diet through a hose hanging above you, but when it amuses me to feed you real food, I do.”
Naked, he crawled on the bed and kneeled. “No arms and no legs, just a torso and head. Three holes to fuck with nothing to get in the way.”
His cock pressed into her, spreading her, violating her; and the mindfuck of not having her arms, and her legs seeming to have disappeared, had her almost believing she was nothing but a torso.
Her orgasm struck without warning and she screamed in ecstasy as waves of bliss washed over her and her pussy seized and convulsed around his cock.
He kept her riding the high for several long minutes, but as soon as the tremors quieted and she could breathe again, her shoulders, arms, hips, inner thighs, knees, and calves all came back to life at once. When she tried to move to relieve the tension and ache, it pulled the muscles and joints even worse and she shrieked in pain.
“Yellow, yellow... NO! Quinacridone! Shit, it hurts!! Quinacridone!!!”
Travis stretched to the night table and before he returned to her, the tension on her right leg was gone. He leaned over her and her left leg was free. She saw odd-looking scissors in his hands as he gently moved her leg enough to roll her sideways, and three snips later her arms were free.
He rubbed her shoulders and she pulled away, crossing her arms in front of her, right hand on left shoulder, and vice versa, trying to convince the muscles to chill out and stop hurting.
“As hot as the concept was, I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”
“What if I could work you up to it? I had a lot of slack in the rope on your arms, but what if we back off so it’s more comfortable and make it an eighth of an inch tighter every week or two until you can wear armbinders? Sometimes it can take a year or more to train the arms all the way back; I’m not asking you to do it overnight. Same with your legs; we can get you started on stretching exercises so eventually it won’t hurt to have them tied out of the way.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head. “You had a pretty explosive orgasm.”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?” She smiled and glanced at his cock, not sure what she was supposed to do since she’d gotten off and he hadn’t. His erection was gone so she said. “We’ll talk about it later; maybe I’ll change my mind when my arms aren’t hurting. I’m glad I brought something comfortable to change into.”
She slid off the bed and went to her bag, thinking the conversation over; but he sat back on his heels looking thoughtful.
“I really hope you change your mind. I’ve been careful with you, and found ways to bind you so you could breathe comfortably and your muscles weren’t strained, but...” he looked up, his eyes seeming to implore and apologize at the same time. “But I miss being able to fold someone however I want them.”
Cara’s heart fell into her stomach and she turned away from him, taking a moment to pull loose jeans and tee on and compose her face.
“I thought you were happy with me?”
“I’m happier than I ever thought possible, Cara Mia. We’re supposed to tell each other what we need, what we want in bed; and I’m telling you I miss being able to bend and twist my partner as I wish. I love the way armbinders look, and it makes me hard to tie a woman into the splits and make her even more vulnerable when I fuck her. One of my favorites is to rope a ponytail to a woman’s ankles, force her body into a backwards circle, and then fuck her mouth with her arms tied behind her back. When I pull out, her hair is pulled and her scalp hurts; when I shove in, she can’t breathe. The friction of my cock in her throat tangos with the pain in her scalp and muscles, and she can’t tell if she’s coming or going.”
His eyes had taken on a far off look as he talked, and he caught himself and focused on her once more. “I love you Cara. I’ve encouraged you to be honest with me about what turns you on and what you think you need.”
Cara sighed, hurt by his words. “And I haven’t bothered to see if there’s something you need that I’m not doing. I’m sorry, Travis.”
His eyes were cautious. “Sorry for not asking, or sorry because you don’t want to try again?”
“Sorry for not asking.”
“So, you’ll try it again? Let me help you with your flexibility?” His voice sounded so hopeful she couldn’t turn him down. She just wished she felt more confident she’d manage the things he said.
She fell into one of the chairs and pulled her bare feet into the seat, hugging her legs and grimacing at the pain in her shoulders.
“You know I’m not athletic, but yeah, I’ll try. You’ll have to back off from what you did today though. My shoulders still hurt and if they’re this bad tomorrow I’ll have problems painting.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cara looked up fr
om her computer as movement caught her eye. Travis leaned against the doorframe, and her face broke into an instant smile as she said, “Come take a look at this, see if it’s what you were visualizing. I’m not quite happy with the colors but the blocking and attitude is right, I think.”
Travis walked behind her desk and leaned forward, talking as he looked. “I could get used to having you here and working just down the hall. I’m happier just knowing you’re close.” He paused and said. “This is perfect; I love how you so easily bring the images in my mind to life. It’s only been an hour since the meeting and you’ve done this much?”
“I’m only here because of the brainstorming sessions this morning; you know I work better from home.” She glanced at the clock on her monitor, saw it was almost lunchtime, and said, “See, you’re here to point out I should eat, aren’t you? If I were home I’d work another couple of hours, uninterrupted, before going in search of food.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re here so I can take care of you. You remember we have plans this evening, right?”
“Yes, because someone you want me to meet is coming to town.” She glanced at the image she’d been working on, and back up to him. “I really need another thirty or forty minutes on this before I step away. If you’re hungry, get lunch without me. I’ll grab something later.”
He smiled and straightened. “I can take a hint, I’m leaving. Buzz me when you’re done and we’ll eat together. Meanwhile,” he nodded to her monitor, “can you send me a low resolution of that?”
* * * *
By the time Travis drove them back to his place later in the afternoon Cara was ready for the sanctity of his home. Between the high energy of his office with everyone tossing out ideas and brainstorming, and the project almost magically taking shape, and the paparazzi being especially aggressive the past two weeks as they chased down the rumors from the Hollywood premier party — it’d be nice to be hidden behind the high walls surrounding his property.
“Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap before Jonathan arrives?”
“I’m not physically tired but my brain’s running in ten directions at once. I love hanging out at the office with you every once in a while, but I’m not used to so much activity. I’m exhausted, and I sat all day.”
He smiled affectionately. “Timothy and his skateboard occasionally make me tired, too, but it works for him and far be it from me to diminish creativity.”
“The skateboard, and people bringing their pets, and even all the standing desks don’t really bother me. It was just so loud today. More than usual, I think.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “It gets this way at the beginning of a project when we’re brainstorming.”
“It’s kind of cool to watch. I’m glad I get to see this part of you but I couldn’t handle it every day.”
Travis pulled through the gates and she asked, “What time is he supposed to be here?”
He glanced at the clock on the dash and said, “We have about an hour to shower and change. We’re picking him up at the airport and have reservations at St. Johns.”
“You said this is one of your kink friends? I know we’ve both been busy but we haven’t had a chance to talk about why he’s here. I’d assumed he was in town and you were spending time with him while he’s here, but if we’re picking him up from the airport I’m guessing that’s not the case.”
They pulled into the garage and Travis got out of the car and retrieved her overnight bag from the trunk. They were outside the garage and almost to the front door before he finally said, “You remember the conversation in the plane? You said you’d be willing to try, but then your shoulders still hurt the next day and I felt terrible. The truth is, I don’t know how to train someone to be more flexible — they’ve all been fully bendable when they came to me.”
Cara had a bad feeling about this friend but didn’t respond. The weight in the pit of her stomach grew heavier as they walked silently through the house, but she had no idea what to say.
Travis walked her bag into his closet and deposited it in the section he’d cleared for her use. She stood in the doorway, not sure what to do or say, and certainly not ready to begin undressing to take a shower.
He pulled her into his arms and said, “Please don’t be upset. Jonathan’s a good friend but also happens to be a skilled and much sought trainer. He’s a professional, and he knows how to safely stretch muscles and work joints to give the most flexibility.”
“So he’s like a personal trainer? A coach? One of those muscle-bound guys who practically live in the gym?”
“Not quite. A professional submissive trained by him can often charge triple the fees of other pros. Masters who don’t have time to train a new slave often send them to Jonathan, assured she’ll return not only fully trained as a submissive, but also graceful, flexible, and able to anticipate his every need. Jonathan knows what he’s doing and he’ll be able to train your muscles without hurting them.”
She was floored, but what came out was, “You...you brought someone here to train me? Like a dog that piddles on the floor?”
“No, not train you. Definitely not that.” He smiled. “I pity anyone who tries.”
When she didn’t respond he added, “He knows I didn’t bring him here to train a submissive, but to help condition you, to get you more flexible. Just think of him as a yoga teacher.”
She gave him a level stare and he grinned. “Okay, a kinky yoga teacher.”
* * * *
She expected to dislike Jonathan, imagining some large, stern, taskmaster in leather. She imagined him scowling, and talking like one of those marine boot camp people on TV.
However, she was almost disappointed to discover she liked him immediately. She’d been right about his being large, but everything else was far from the mark. He wore charcoal jeans and a faded blue tee stretched across his impressive muscles; his face was warm, with a happy smile, and he spoke to her with respect, saying he looked forward to getting to know her.
She’d planned to sit in the back seat of the Cayenne on the way to the restaurant but he beat her to it, insisting she sit up front.
Conversation was relaxed and casual over their meal, and it was obvious the two men had known each other a long time. Cara laughed as Jonathan told her some of the boneheaded things Travis had done as a teenager, but she didn’t fully understand how close the two were until Travis told Jonathan about his latest project — no one heard details this early without signing a non-disclosure agreement.
Cara made it into the back seat first when they left the restaurant, but Jonathan again insisted she sit up front. She looked at Travis, expecting him to agree the guest should ride shotgun but he only motioned towards the front and said, “You’re with me.”
Rolling her eyes, she switched to the front, but turned a little sideways in her seat so she could include Jonathan in the conversation.
He sat behind Travis, making it easier for Cara to see him as they talked, and he said, “I’d originally intended you and I negotiate a few things tonight and have our first session tomorrow morning. However, having met you, I have a feeling you’ll do better with the first session immediately following the negotiation.”
“Why?”
“Most do better after a night of anticipation, but I think it’ll just worry you, make you more uptight. The sooner I calm your fears, the better.”
Well, he was right about that, at least. “What do we need to negotiate?”
“I work on a system of rewards and consequences. I know you aren’t submissive but Travis tells me you follow directions well when properly motivated, and as it turns out, my basic program should give you the incentive you need to grasp the lesson.”
“So you’re going to get me horny to teach me yoga?”
He glanced at Travis, the two exchanged a look in the rearview mirror, and Travis said, “That’s what we need to work out. If necessary, I can be the one to get you horny, at least for the first few sess
ions, but Jonathan prefers to work on a submissive without her Master in the room. His studio in New York has a two-way mirror so the Master can watch without being present. You aren’t submissive and he’ll be treating you a little different, but—”
Jonathan interrupted. “But submissive or not, too many cooks spoil the stew. I have my way of doing things and if they’re different from what Travis does then you’ll be looking at him, wanting him to tell me how it’s done. My methods work and this will go much quicker if we can negotiate a scenario you’re comfortable with, allowing you and I to work together while Travis watches from afar.”
“Understand,” said Travis, “a professional who’s been trained by Jonathan can charge three or four times the going rate. Many women come to him and offer to pay to be trained, and part of the contract they sign says they don’t get to dictate anything except a safeword, and if he feels they overuse the safeword the training will end. When a Master brings his slave to be trained, he handles the negotiation and the slave follows whatever the men negotiate.”
Which meant Jonathan wasn’t used to negotiating with submissives. He told them how it was going to be and they either accepted his rules or found someone else to train them. Cara eyed Jonathan. “What, specifically, do you want me to agree to?”
Safeword: Quinacridone Page 13