Dance for Me

by Kay Elle Parker

  One elegant blond eyebrow arched. “Sitting down on the job, are we?”

  “Might as well be comfortable,” Braun shot back.

  As the sadist pushed off the wall and sauntered away, Braun dropped a black rope at Bodie’s feet, then began to unravel the red one in his hands. It had been a while since he’d had the pleasure of practicing Shibari, but he relished the feel of the silk through his fingers. “This is soft rope, Bodie. It won’t burn or abrade your skin. It will feel restrictive, but I can cut you free at a moment’s notice if you panic.”

  She fidgeted uneasily. “Okay.”

  “Good girl. You know your safeword?”

  “Red, Sir.”

  Braun nodded. “Say it and everything stops. Are you ready?”

  It was an experience in itself, watching her thoughts roll over her face, then gathering the courage to submit. Eyes closed again, she breathed deeply, slowly, until her tense fingers relaxed by her sides. “I’m ready, Sir.”

  “Hold your arms out in front of you, hands clasped together loosely. Elbows touching, little one.” With a firm touch, he directed her how he required, and with a deep breath of his own, began.

  The rope moved smoothly through his hands as he wove it around her forearms. Circle, knot. Circle, knot. The familiarity of the pattern allowed him to topple into the rhythm, the fluidity of creating art on a human canvas.

  The sounds of the room faded away until all he could hear was Bodie’s soft, slow breathing and the slide of silk over skin. Circle, knot. Circle, knot. When he reached the cuffs, he inspected the intricate web of rope cinching her arms together, pleased with the result.

  “Are you okay, little one?”

  Big blue eyes blinked open, dazed and innocent. “Sir?”

  Braun repeated the question quietly. “No nipping, no pulling?”

  She shook her head from side to side in slow motion. “No, Sir.”

  “Clever girl. Tell me if you feel any pain or numbness.” He hadn’t bound her tight enough to compromise her circulation, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Okay,” she replied, her mouth curving into a smile.

  Ending the weave with a knot, he threaded the rope through the D rings of her cuffs, knotted it again loosely. With a careful toss, he launched the rest of the slack up and over one of the bars. Snagging the end, he pulled until Bodie’s arms rose above her head. He tied the rope back onto itself with a quick release knot, just above her fingers.

  One tug and she’d be free.

  Braun took a moment to admire the length of her stretched out before him. Pale and perky, her breasts reawakened his hunger. Tempting his fingers, his mouth. Nipples flushed with arousal begged for him to suck and nip and tease.

  She swayed, relying on the rope to hold her up.

  Turning, Braun saw the stool and cushion at the edge of the rigging. He found Jasper back in position, same as before, with his arms across his chest and a hunger in his pale blue gaze burning as hot as the fever in Braun’s blood.

  With a nod of thanks, Braun took the stool and set it down in front of Bodie. “Bend your right knee for me, little one.” Hesitantly, the leg lifted, and her balance shifted precariously. Holding onto her, he kicked the stool into place and smiled. Damn near perfect. “Rest your knee on the stool, Bodie. How does that feel?”

  “Better, Sir, thank you.”

  Braun retrieved the cushion and, carefully cupping her knee to raise it, slid the soft padding under her. This time, he settled the top half of her cast onto it so the stool took the weight. “And that?”

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” she murmured.

  “Excellent. Moving onto the next stage,” he told her, brushing his hand over her shoulder, then—unable to resist temptation—trailed his fingers down to tweak one budded nipple. Her moan nearly brought him to ruin.

  Taking the second rope, he started again. Circle, knot. Circle, knot. From above her elbow, he worked his way up her biceps, over the tops of her shoulders and back down her other arm, encasing her breasts as he went. Painstakingly, he connected rope to rope, knot by knot, until her upper body wore a silken tapestry.

  For his own entertainment, he settled hard bumps of soft material against her nipples, teasing them to painfully sensitive peaks as she breathed. Her moans were coming faster now, mewling little cries of pleasure.

  And begin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  This isn’t as bad as I expected.

  Hovering blissfully in her happy place, Bodie smiled. Having her hands tied made her uneasy, but Braun kept his word. If she opened her eyes, she could see him. When he murmured to her, she could hear him. His scent filled her lungs with every breath she took.

  It was weird, this place she found herself in.

  Light, floaty, other.

  Cocooned in a web of the smoothest, softest silk, there was no room for fear. Errant thoughts of panic passed by without pause, and not once did she feel the need to reach out and latch onto one. She was safe here, wrapped in Braun’s ropes while she...she just bobbed along on a slow river, in tune with her body down to the surge of blood pulsing through her veins.

  For the first time in six months, she wasn’t a broken shell of the woman she’d been. Here, her leg wasn’t ruined, pinned and plated together. Here, she was whole, dancing to the rhythm of her Master’s words and the slide and tug of rope.

  Frissons of bliss assaulted her with every breath. Warmth banked between her thighs, ready for a gentle breath to ignite the furnace. Her breasts, caught in Braun’s silken trap, ached and yearned for his touch to replace the sweet torment of the knots.

  Damn, he was good.

  “Still overwhelmed, little one?”

  She gave him a contented purr. “No, Sir. Not anymore.”

  Fingertips ran along the edge of her sweats, teasing her skin before sliding under the elasticated waistband and pushing the material over her hips. All the way to her knees. She moved as and when Braun directed so he could remove them completely, along with her lone sneaker, without putting too much pressure on her broken leg. When a rough palm cupped her butt, she realized her panties had gone for a ride with the sweatpants.

  Oh well.

  Cool strands of leather trailed over her cheeks, taking the place of his hand. She flinched as they snapped lightly over her flesh, barely kissing her skin, and her hands jerked.

  Panic flashed, hot and keen, when neither her hands nor arms obeyed the command to move. Because they couldn’t. Her breath whistled in sharply as the strands landed again, just as lightly. She felt not even the slightest nip of pain, but her brain screamed warnings.

  Eyes wide, she sought Braun, and couldn’t find him.

  “Still right here, little one,” he said from behind her. “I wondered when you’d react. A little delayed, but this is good, Bodie. This is where you trust me.” The strips of leather flicked gently at her ribs, her waist, her thighs, as Braun circled her. Constantly rousing the fire beneath her skin as she struggled with the restraints. “Take a deep breath, Boadicea. Look into my eyes.”

  Helpless, she did as instructed.

  “Good girl. You’re not in danger, little one. I won’t let anything harm you. Forget the restriction. You are safe. I am the rope. Everywhere it touches you, it’s my hands on your skin.” He continued to walk around her, the flogger in his grasp licking here and there. “Deep breath, Bodie; don’t make me remind you again.” A short, sharp snap of connection followed by heat.

  Finally, she breathed. Panic ebbed and washed away on the tide of his voice, the increasing prickle of warmth where the flogger's tail struck. Her muscles trembled, eager to feel the growing sting. Her moan was long and heartfelt as her good leg went limp and her arms took the brunt of her weight.

  “Those ropes are my arms, little one, hugging you tight. They’re holding you up, keeping you safe. Relax into them. Relax into me.” The gentle strikes stopped, and Braun’s hand slipped between her thighs from behind, fingers delving in
to the slickness with ease. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.” He ceased probing her desperate pussy, and she whimpered. “Patience, Bodie. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

  Trusting him to keep his word—bad things would happen if he didn’t—Bodie roused herself long enough to straighten her good leg. She managed, barely, and the bittersweet ache in her shoulders faded.

  “Any pain, discomfort?” Braun murmured in her ear, close enough for his breath to caress the shell.

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Proper words, Boadicea.”

  “N-No, Sir, no pain.”

  His lips pressed to the sensitive spot beneath her ear as a reward before he stepped back and unleashed the strands across her butt. Significantly harder this time, bringing her up onto her toes as leather bit into her flesh.

  Around and around he went, lighting up her senses with stroke after stroke. Liquid heat leaked down her thighs, her pussy contracting on emptiness with every lash. Heat and pain and arousal swirled, dancing to the same tempo as the flogger, until the need to orgasm was greater than her desire to breathe.

  Braun left no inch of her unscathed. From shoulders to knees, he beat fire into her flesh. The fronds pattered heavily over her skin, thudding into her muscles like hail. Over and over, a crazy waltz gone rogue.

  Bodie sensed herself lift, lighter than air.

  Pain became a distant friend. Arousal, the thermal beneath her. Raising her up, up, up until all that existed was freedom and him.

  His voice. His touch extended through the stinging fingers of the flogger. His scent rising with her into oblivion.

  She hit the peak, suspended for glorious seconds at the pinnacle of bliss, then swirled back down to reality. A feather, drifting from the heavens. Settling back into reality with the gentlest bump of awakening.

  “Back with me, little one?”

  Faces and furnishings blurred into being as her eyes fluttered open. Braun’s bare chest pressed against her back, pumping heat into heat. Her arms were still over her head, her upper body snugged firmly in the snare of rope and his strong arms. “Is that you, Master Braun, or God?”

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasantly into her aching muscles. “Your quick wit’s certainly thriving, Bodie, but you’re slurring your words. Still flying high, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes rolled drowsily. “Maybe.”

  “Fancy going up again, taking me with you this time?”

  Her distressingly empty pussy perked right up, salivating at the thought of what he implied. Wait, he was suggesting sex, right? The fried synapses in her dopey brain struggled to recover. Her mouth moved of its own volition, taking charge and speaking for her body as a whole. “Please, Sir, fuck me.”

  The cradle of his arms loosened, fell away. The sound of a zipper drawing down was quite possibly the most erotic thing she’d ever heard. “Can’t deny such a polite request, Bodie. This is what good girls get when they don’t sass their Doms.”

  She moaned in reply, not caring about the audience in front of her. The only thing that mattered was the grip of his hands on the underside of her thighs as he lifted her effortlessly, kicking the stool from under her leg once her weight settled in his arms.

  The crown of his cock nudged at her, spread her open. With slow thrusts, he worked his way exactly where she needed him most. Deep inside, where the ache was strongest.

  They groaned together when he finally seated himself fully.

  God, yes. This is my idea of perfection.

  Weight balanced between her cuffs and Braun, she felt alive. The connection they’d forged before her parents tried to kill her—the bond she feared had waned over the past six months—rose to the surface, stronger and more vibrant than ever.

  Braun controlled her movements, raising and lowering her at his own pace. No matter how she squirmed or what words tripped from her lips, he was a machine. Powerful, unstoppable, and damned determined to drive her insane.

  Her orgasm kindled, smoldering away. From the tips of her fingers down to her little toes, pleasure built, gathering in her center. She whined, fisting her hands, wishing she could touch him, rake her nails over his back, bite him...anything to make him lose control and fuck her.

  “When you wiggle like that,” he growled in her ear, “it drives me mad, little one. You were made for me, and me alone. I love knowing you’re all mine. Every inch of this body designed for me, to take my cock like the good girl you are.”

  Her toes curled. Fuck, she really did get a kick out of being his good girl.

  Flesh clapped against tender flesh, her flogger-kissed cheeks singing with delight as friction reanimated the sting. She wriggled some more, just to savor the burn. Joined with him, full of him, she finally regained some of the confidence that had slipped away during her rehabilitation.

  “I think someone wants to come,” Braun mocked, his teeth finding flesh between silky strands of rope. He bit lightly, little more than a threat, but the expanding mass of ecstasy in her belly throbbed.

  “God, yes. Please, Master, please let me come.”

  His fingers dug into the soft undersides of her thighs, gripping her tighter as sweat dewed her skin. She was impressed he managed to hold her bum leg up—the cast weighed it down and she knew how heavy the damn thing was; after all, she carried it around all day, every day. But Braun was a man on a mission, not about to let a cumbersome cast get in his way.

  Bodie was secretly glad he’d changed his mind about the no sex.

  He hammered into her from behind, his control slipping. That big, powerful body stepped up a notch, thrilling her with the intensity pouring out of him. Her pussy clamped down on him in answer, bringing a raw cry to her lips.

  “That’s it, come for me. Come for me, Bodie.” Braun’s hips snapped forward, burying himself deep.

  She felt him pulse, the thick shaft throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and shattered around him. The orgasm was akin to a supernova, blinding and brilliant, sucking the air from her lungs on a scream.

  For several long moments, she was lost, cast adrift on a turbulent sea of bliss. When she surfaced, breathing hard and trembling with aftershocks, she found her feet on the floor with Braun’s arms around her waist as he just held her.

  Breath rasping, he kept muttering, “Christ Jesus.”

  They rocked in place until Braun’s breathing eased. She moaned in protest when he slipped out of her, hating the emptiness he left behind. She didn’t want to lose what they’d just rediscovered—she wanted, so very badly, to stay linked with him forever. Full and sated and happy.

  But he reached up to her hands, squeezed them once, then yanked on the quick release knot. Her arms lowered slowly, and she hissed as blood started to rush back through. She sat gingerly on the stool when directed, watching her Dom skillfully undo all his pretty ropework with quick fingers.

  “I think I’m ruining your stool,” she informed him, shifting her hips restlessly. “I’m sat on a wet spot.”

  Midnight-blue eyes never left his task, his hands working quickly to release the bonds around her forearms. “You’re making the wet spot, little one, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll have the damn thing bronzed just as soon as I’ve got you untied.”

  Bodie admired the indents in her skin, some blushing pink, others a darker shade. “And what are you going to do with a bronzed bar stool?”

  “Who knows? Keep it in the living room and make it a focal point.”

  She snorted, flexing her fingers as they began to tingle. Braun covered them with his, and she saw the concern in his eyes fade as he felt their warmth. “Please don’t. We’d never be able to look at it again without thinking of tonight, and we wouldn’t survive ourselves if we lived in perpetual horniness.”

  “We’d die happy.” Braun made short work of her arms, then growled when she shivered. He straightened from his crouch, moving over to one of the vertical poles and yanking something free. He returned to her with a knife in hand. “Safety blade only, Bodie. I w
ant to get you tucked up and resting.”

  Trusting him, she sat trembling as he cut away the harness on her chest. When he draped a blanket over her shoulders and wrangled the sweats and her panties back into place, she huddled into the warmth and smiled. Cuddling with Braun was her most favorite part of sex...well, aside from the whole being pleasured to within an inch of her life part.

  Her eyelids drooped.

  Dozing, she sensed him moving around, and then she was finally hoisted into his arms. She curled into him, rubbing her face into his throat as the motion of him walking lulled her to sleep.

  *

  His little subbie was all tuckered out.

  Supremely pleased with himself, Braun carried her back to their usual spot in the bar. He settled them into the seating pit, glowering at anyone who came close enough to disturb them, and simply sat rocking her, his own eyes half-closed.

  Atticus was nowhere to be seen, probably off scening with a willing subbie who’d caught his eye.

  When he stirred, Braun noted the number of people in the bar had diminished considerably. When he checked his watch, he blinked in surprise—more time had passed than he’d realized, and Bodie was still nestled into him.

  That had been one hell of a reintroduction, and not quite the one he’d imagined. His idea had been to give her sweet and romantic; maybe some candles scattered around the bathroom, the bedroom. Woo his girl back into the swing of things, just the two of them. No kink, just them.

  But she’d flown so high beneath the flogger. So high, he’d seen the universe glinting in those blue depths as she stared blindly into space. He’d never been able to resist a woman who could lose herself so completely, give herself over freely, and Bodie was his to take as he wished. Resistance wasn’t his forte when it came to her—six months of celibacy, of not touching her even after the doc cleared it—had tested his willpower to shattering point.

  Fuck, it had shattered tonight.

  A shirt and purple bra draped over the edge of the pit as Jasper stepped over to sit beside Braun. “Quite the display you put on, brother. Think you made half the Doms in there green with envy.”