Tied Up

by Sionna Fox

  He used his teeth to pinch and pull at the skin of her breasts, drawing blood to the surface, sensitizing it before he pinned her. He used the medium-hard pins to make arcs from her armpits to her sternum under each breast.

  She snorted when he applied the last one, and he yanked the chain connecting the nipple clamps, his cock giving a heavy throb at her answering grunt of pain. “Care to share with the class?”

  “Picturing what this looks like. Smiley face tits.”

  He pulled the chain harder. If she could crack jokes, she wasn’t far enough under yet.

  “Ow, ow, ow, fuck.”

  “Where are we, kitten?”

  “Green,” she panted, and he let the chain fall slack across her chest.

  “Good girl. Deep breaths.”

  She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. He ran his hands gently over her skin, avoiding the places he’d pinched, letting her sink into it without adding to the pain. Yet.

  When her breath evened out, he started attaching clamps to her hips. Where she was less sensitive, he used the clamps with the firmest grip, working methodically on either side of her body, stopping to flick one of the pins closest to her armpit or pull on the chain between her nipples if she got too complacent. Or he’d fuck her with his fingers for a minute, let her arch her back and dig her heels in, trying and failing to get enough friction against how wet she was.

  Finally, he held up a row of clamps attached to a length of thin rope. “Last chance, kitten. Where are you?”

  She whimpered and bit her lip, hips surging still from the way he’d been playing with her clit. “Green.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Fuck. Do it.”

  Ian loosened the restraints at her ankles so he could bend her knees and get better access. He slid a pillow under her hips to help hold her up and open. Then he dropped his head and sucked her clit into his mouth, enough to make her wail a little, to throw her head back into the mattress and clench her pussy around the fingers he’d slid inside her. She tasted like heaven. Slick and salty against his tongue, tight and hot around his fingers. He wanted inside her. But she wanted the zipper.

  He pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger and attached the first clamp. It nestled tight against her body, rubbing and pinching with every move she made. The tension on the clips was the loosest he had, but with so many nerve endings and so much blood flow, it would feel like so much more to her.

  Her head was thrown back, her hair a wild dark halo against his pale sheets. “Deep breaths, kitten.”

  He placed the rest of the clamps quickly and methodically, giving her a second to breathe between each bite. When it was done, he stepped back to look at her. Naked, tied down, soaking wet, covered in pins and clamps, and she trusted him to do it. She was half out of her mind with pain and pleasure, and for now, she was his.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

  She huffed and her cheeks colored, but she didn’t answer. He squeezed her calf, an unspoken check-in. She nodded back and flashed her fingers twice, her signal for yes.

  He stripped out of his clothes and left them on the floor. His naked cock pressed almost painfully to his belly as he positioned himself on his stomach between her legs. He flicked her clit with his tongue and sank two fingers into her pussy again.

  “This arrangement doesn’t leave me with a lot of options, you know.” He curled his fingers inside her, pulling a stuttering cry from her, and swiped his tongue along the rows of pins on her labia. “I can do this.” He pressed the flat of his tongue to the bit of her clit exposed over the top of the clamp, applying light pressure against her pubic bone. She flinched away from it. “But that might be too much.” He took her squeak as agreement. “Or I can do this.” He pulled his fingers out of her and replaced them with his tongue, running his wet fingers over the pucker of her asshole. That got a breathy cry of pleasure as he gently pressed the tight ring of muscle, testing and teasing.

  She’d always preferred anal when she’d come first, when the tension of her arousal had relaxed enough to let him in with ease. But she was also unlikely to come with her clit in a clamp, so he could keep her like this, hovering on the edge, for hours if he wanted to. On another night, when their truce wasn’t so new, maybe he would keep her strung taut, edging her until she begged to come. Tonight, he’d give her what she wanted.

  He reached for the lube and slicked his fingers, continued fucking her pussy with his mouth while he breached her muscles with one slick finger. When he slid in and out of her with little resistance, he added another dollop of lube and a second finger, working her open slowly and carefully. Whatever other pain he caused her tonight, it wouldn’t come from this. This was only meant to be about pleasure.

  He hummed against her when she loosened around his second finger, letting him work back and forth, scissoring her open. She writhed against his mouth, whimpering and starting to stutter “please” from above him.

  But he wouldn’t rush this. He added more lube, and worked a third finger into the tight heat of her. When she was pushing back against him, fucking herself on his fingers and tongue, he stopped and sat back on his heels.

  He used a waiting washcloth on his face, and a wipe for his hands, rolled a condom slowly over his aching cock and asked, “Do you need to come, kitten?”

  She whimpered and nodded. “Please. So bad.”

  “You know what happens next.” He positioned himself between her knees and picked up the two ends of the rope. One quick, clean motion would take them off, and the rush of blood back to her labia and clit would both hurt like hell and allow her to have an orgasm.

  “I know.”

  “When you’re ready.” He positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy. “Count backwards from three.”

  They both knew he wouldn’t wait for three, but if she didn’t know when exactly he was going to pull, the surprise would lessen her ability to flinch. She nodded.

  “Three, two, motherfucker.”

  He tossed the zipper to the side and plunged into her, gripping her hips hard as he bottomed out and she clenched around him with a scream. Pins sprang loose from her hips, and he pulled off more as he started to fuck her, littering the bed with multicolored plastic until only the nipple clamps remained. Those, he left, too focused on not coming in her pussy as she shook and reverberated around with aftershocks of her orgasm and flinching pain from the blood flow returning to everywhere she’d been clamped.

  He pulled out and gripped the backs of her thighs, pressing them to her chest, exposing her ass, lube-wet and open. He slicked more lube over his cock. “Ready?” He squeezed her thigh, knowing she might be too spent to answer verbally.

  She nodded weakly and fluttered her fingers. “Good girl. Deep breath.” He pressed his cock against her, working slowly against her muscles. “That’s it. Let it out, kitten. Relax.” The head of his cock pushed past the ring of muscle, enclosing him in the tightest heat of her. He slid carefully into her as she exhaled slowly and relaxed into it. “That’s it. Good girl. Fuck, that’s it.”

  His hips rested against her backside and he waited, kissed her sweaty forehead. His whole body screamed at him to move, to take her, to fuck her, to empty himself inside her at last. But he waited, murmuring in her ear about how well she’d done, how much he’d loved giving her what she’d asked for, how beautiful she’d been when she came, how she would do it again before he was done.

  She was spaced out, but still responded to his gentle words with soft smiles and fluttering eyelids. “One more time, kitten. You ready?”

  She flashed her fingers and nodded. He started to move, slow, shallow, dragging strokes. He pulled almost all the way out, added a bit more lube, and began to thrust more deliberately. Kate pushed back against him with what leverage she had, taking him deep, starting to whine and moan again. He let go of her legs to stroke her clit as her movement against him got more desperate.

  “Are you goin
g to come for me one more time, kitten?” He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out, but he wanted all of this to be so, so good for her.

  She nodded and bit her lip against a cry as he rubbed her clit a little harder. “Come for me, kitten. Fuck, I want to feel it.”

  She clenched, a tight fist around his cock, and started to shake. He pulled the chain to yank the clamps off her nipples as she trembled and thrust back against him, her body holding onto his so hard he could barely move as she came one more time and pulled the orgasm he’d been holding back from his body. He collapsed on her, sweaty and spent.

  She was still shaking under him. His own addled brain switched into aftercare mode. She was crashing and she needed him now. He eased out of her and released her from the cuffs, rolling her into a ball on her side. He snatched the comforter from where she’d left it in a heap on the floor and wrapped it around her tightly.

  Naked, his softening cock still in the sticky condom, he squatted next to the bed. “Can you look at me?”

  She opened her eyes, her face scrunched, her eyes watery.

  “I’m going to get cleaned up, but I’ll be right here. Flash your hands if you need me.”

  She nodded. He bustled around her, tidying up himself and their mess as quickly as possible, dumping pins and clamps and cuffs into the chest to be dealt with later, chafing her arms and legs through the blanket as he went, letting her know he was still there. When everything was put away enough, he knelt next to her again and kissed her between the eyes.

  “Are you ready to get up? I can bring you a washcloth if you don’t want to.”

  She shook her head and pushed the comforter off her slightly. “Help me up?”

  He helped her lever herself to her feet and into the shower at her request. He washed her skin of sweat and lube and bundled her into a towel. He helped her into the underwear and T-shirt she’d brought, and tossed her a pair of his flannel pants and a sweatshirt when he realized she hadn’t brought more for pajamas. Finally, he made her go downstairs for a long drink of water and a snack.

  “Since when were you such a mother hen?” Her words were still slightly slurred, but she was coming out from under it.

  “Since always, kitten. I’m just being nice about it instead of ordering you around. You never wanted warm, fuzzy aftercare before.”

  “Oh.” She rested her head on his chest, and he wanted to beg her to stay forever, to come home, to make this real again. “I think I like it better this way.”

  But she might change her mind in the morning. He couldn’t believe anything she said when she was endorphin-drunk. She’d said so herself.

  “I like it too, kitten. Come on, to bed with you.”

  Thirteen

  Ian’s alarm went off way too early. He’d forgotten the bone-deep tiredness that could come for him after a scene like that. He expected it for her; he hadn’t seen her hit subspace like that in a long, long time. She’d been wobbly and endorphin-drunk and dropped off to sleep almost the second he tucked her in.

  He’d left the alarm, not wanting to deviate too far from routine and have to reset his internal clock when he went back to work. If he went back to work.

  It didn’t help that Kate was snuggled and warm next to him, her weight on the mattress beside him a comfort. He didn’t want her to go home yet. He hit snooze with a grunt and pulled the covers back up to his chin. Neither of them had anywhere they were absolutely required to be, a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

  She snuggled up to his back, and he hummed softly, still half-asleep and content, before mumbling, “We should get up.”

  “Five more minutes.” She snaked an arm around his chest and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

  They could play this game. Getting up meant reentering the real world, leaving the cocoon of their—his—bed and dealing with responsibilities, consequences, talking about what last night meant.

  “’Kay.”

  The alarm bleated again, and she scooted away, gingerly rolling herself upright and out of bed. He wanted to get a look at her before she left. She’d be a bit stiff and sore, probably bruised, but nothing major. And nothing visible outside of her winter clothes.

  He forced himself upright, following her toward the bathroom. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s no trouble.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “And it will make me feel better to see you home safely.” Honesty. That was what they were supposed to be doing here. He needed to make sure she got home okay. He was still a bit zoned out, and she didn’t look much better. It was the give and take. He needed her to let him have this, then he would give her the space she seemed to crave now.

  But first, he’d check over her skin and get some caffeine into both of them to shake off the remaining fog.

  “Get undressed, please.”

  “What?”

  “I’d like to check you over. Make sure there isn’t anything that needs more attention than a bit of arnica.”

  She shook her head. “Right. Of course.” She stripped down and threw the borrowed pajamas into the hamper. He’d liked seeing her in his flannel pants and swimming in the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

  Her skin was a constellation of blue and purple marks, the darkest ones around her hips. “Spread your legs, please.”

  She dutifully widened her stance, and he got to his knees to check the condition of her labia and clitoris. A bit red, probably sore, but nothing that a day or two wouldn’t fix. He looked up. “How do you feel?”

  “A little stiff, but not in pain. I’ll be fine.” She swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs gently holding her open. “Am I making you nervous, kitten?”

  “No.”

  He slid his thumb over flesh that was getting more slippery the longer she leaned against the counter spread open in front of his face. “No, my little kitten is turned on.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to come, little one?”

  “Please.”

  He wouldn’t complain about shutting out the real world for as long as it took to get her off. He swiped his tongue over her clit, watching her grip on the counter go white-knuckled. No, he wouldn’t complain about this at all. He slid the bathmat under his knees and licked her again, smoothing over the sore spots, drinking her in.

  “Do you want this to be fast or slow?”

  “Please. I need to.”

  He focused his mouth on her clit, used gentle pressure and broad strokes with the flat of his tongue as he pressed two fingers inside her. She whimpered above him, hips stuttering forward, pressing herself against his nose and chin. He pumped his fingers, licking and sucking her to a quick, sharp orgasm that made her grip him by the hair and cry out as her pussy clenched around his fingers.

  “All better now?”

  She huffed at him and looked down at his erection, hanging heavy between his legs. “Yes. Should I?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I’m going to take a shower. You go ahead and get cleaned up and dressed.”

  He stepped into the shower and let the water run hot, clouding the bathroom with steam. He rinsed her off his face and took his cock in his hand. He stroked himself with a loose grip, the taste of her still in his mouth, the feel of fucking her hot and deep the night before flooding back into his senses. He gripped harder, jerking himself with quick, firm strokes, as if he could recreate the feel of being buried in her ass, the tightness of her, the way she’d fucked herself back onto his cock as she got closer to coming.

  He splattered the shower wall with his release as she knocked on the door and shouted over the sound of the water, “I’m going downstairs to make coffee.”

  He didn’t respond, still leaning against the wall, whited out behind the eyes with pleasure.

  When his breath and his hand had steadied enough that he wouldn’t
cut himself to ribbons with his razor, he shaved and washed, soaping his come off the shower wall before he stepped out into the steamy room.

  He toweled himself off and stood in his closet, not knowing what to do. He didn’t have a job to dress for. He didn’t have anywhere to go. He threw on clothes he could clean the house in, figuring he’d attempt to tackle the mess that still lurked in the office. But his stomach knotted with the uncertainty of it all. There was no plan. No objective. No deadline. He sucked at being in charge of himself.

  He ran his fingers over the row of charcoal trousers, pressed shirts, silk ties in sober colors. He’d gotten so used to dressing in a uniform for school that his brain firmly associated it with work. Kate had used to watch him get dressed, even when she had nowhere to be until later in the day. She’d get a cup of coffee and sit in her silky nightgown or robe and catalog his movements, from the turn of his wrists as he buttoned his cuffs to the way he shrugged on a jacket.

  He’d explained the uniform thing to her early on, when they’d been discussing the pros and cons of wearing a collar during scenes, that a piece of leather or chain around her neck could, like a uniform, help some people differentiate scene space from real life. She’d taken to it like a duck to water. Then she’d wanted to wear it all the time. A signifier of ownership, a security blanket.

  He found her downstairs, dressed, coffee made, leaning against the counter, sipping from her mug. She handed him his. He shook off the intense déjà vu and drank. She still knew exactly how he liked it.

  “What are you up to today?”

  His stomach clenched, turning the coffee bitter on his tongue. “You know, I have no idea.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I should probably figure out if I’m going to look for other work. There are people I can talk to…I don’t know. Plus the office looks like a tornado hit it still, and I have to figure out what to do with all that…” He stared into the depths of his mug. She didn’t need to know how badly rattled he was by…his entire life right now.