The Promise of Silk

by Lilith Duvalier

  Alaric took the red back up and drew a dress, filling in arms, shoulders and a neck with his flesh colored pastel, dabbing in blue and green and just a touch of yellow into the shadows, but stopping there.

  He didn’t want to draw Anisette in one of her demon masks. He wanted to see her face.

  Alaric shook his head and realized, in his concentration, he had lost track of the time. The sun was setting. Darkness was not too far off, and he was supposed to see Anisette at sunset.

  He closed his sketchbook, tucking it into his satchel along with his pastels, and set back toward the carnival.

  Chapter Four

  Jane sat at her vanity, enjoying another mental repetition of her plan for the night. How she was going to tease Alaric until he was moaning and flushed, then peel him out of his clothes, revealing his rounded muscles. How his eyes would burn as she slowly unwrapped his cock, and how, if he was very good, as she knew he would be, she would let him touch her tonight.

  It had been a while since she had allowed a man to touch her. She had been filling her coffers with whippings and canings for the last few months. She was looking forward to training Alaric how to touch her. Perhaps a little too much.

  As the blaze of the setting sun burned against her tent wall, she fantasized a little further. What would his reward be tonight? Would she allow him to kiss her breasts? Or maybe only finally grant him the touch her of hands? She had briefly considered simply undressing, letting him look but not touch, but he was too much of a temptation for her to hold out any longer. And why should she? She made the rules inside these walls. If she wanted him to touch her, he would. She had even set out her bedding cushions on top of the box so that when she did take him it would be comfortable.

  The sun set. The dark rose. And Alaric didn’t arrive. A candle near her statue burned out. Jane retrieved another candle and a matchbox out of one of her trunks and walked over to replace it. She took out the old candle, put in the new one and turned back toward the door.

  It took every ounce of the reserve she had learned over the years not to jump.

  Alaric was standing silently, just inside the entrance, looking wan. Something red was smeared across his forehead.

  “You are late,” she told him steadily.

  “Apologies, Anisette.”

  “Come in.”

  She swept back to the vanity and sat down. “There’s something on your face.”

  He reached up and brushed his finger across his forehead, bringing them back down to his eyes.

  “Oh, that’s, umm, pastels. I was drawing,” he said. He grabbed the strap of the bag he had slung over his shoulder and raised it slightly as though she could see through the bag to whatever was inside. “I…draw.”

  “After tonight you’ll show me your drawings,” Jane told him, just to see how he’d react. He flushed a little, and clutched his bag to his stomach, but nodded.

  “So, what did you think of my little game?”

  He dropped his eyes to the floor, the way he always did when he didn’t think he should be enjoying something.

  “It was…it’s been…I-”

  “Tell me.”

  “I thought I was going to have some sort of fit this afternoon, while I was repairing the balloons on the ship, Anisette. Silk in my hands, silk all over my arms. Your silk around my… around myself. It was….” He shivered, but didn’t seem able to come up with any further description. She stood and walked over to him.

  “Look up at me.”

  His hazel eyes jolted up. Jane ignored the shiver that they sent through her.

  “You loved it, didn’t you?”

  Alaric didn’t reply. His eyes dropped momentarily, then lifted again when he realized he had been commanded to look at her.

  “Alaric?” she prompted.

  “It was amazing,” he whispered. “I…do you have this kind of power over a lot of men, Anisette?”

  Not quite, she thought, certainly not over anyone else so very worth having it over. He was so different here than he had been this afternoon. His voice was higher pitched. His shoulders curved down a little bit. The loud shipman barking orders had been tossed aside like a cloak no longer needed after one had come in out of the cold.

  “You’re special, Alaric,” she whispered soothingly. “You are very special. Are you going to show me how special tonight?”

  “Yes, Anisette.”

  She reached out her hand and laid her fingers at the hem of his shirt sleeve, stepping around him and brushing her hand up his arm, grazing appreciatively over his biceps, shoulders, back. She watched the way the shudder spread out from where her hands touched his clothes and ran down his entire body.

  “Oh, God, Anisette, just…tell me how.”

  “You’ll stay dressed.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll make noise for me. I missed your pretty voice last night. Lay down, Alaric.” He walked, wide legged, to his place on the box and dropped down onto it almost gratefully, rocking his head over to look at her. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he moved and the hazel gleamed out of his wide eyes. His binding was obviously working at him.

  His eyes grew wider as she slowly hitched up her skirt, pulling it up to the bottom of her bloomers, revealing her bare legs from ankle to shin. She held her skirt just high enough to allow her to slide one leg out and over his waiting form. His body spasmed underneath her as she glided over him, straddling his fully clothed body. She kept herself up on her knees, so she hovered above him, but did not meet his writhing hips, and rubbed her bare hands over his shirt.

  “Can you feel it, Alaric? The way the ribbon’s holding you?”

  “Yee…eess,” he answered in a ragged moan.

  “Did you try to touch yourself last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you come?”

  “Yes, Anisette.”

  Oh, he was quite the specimen. “Did you think of me?”

  “Of course. Always.”

  She grabbed his nipple through his shirt and pinched hard. He yelped.

  “Good boy,” she told him, taking the other nipple in her other hand and pinching that one too. His hips wriggled from side to side, nudging her skirt covered legs, but not moving up to touch her. She bent, taking his shirt and the nipple below it between her teeth and rolling it carefully.

  “Oh…ohh…God…please, please, please.”

  Jane pulled back. “I like that, when you beg like that. Do it louder.”

  It was good to know it was a sensitive point for him, that wasn’t true of all men. She moved her mouth to the other side of his chest and repeated the action, wetting his shirt with her tongue a little this time. Alaric cried out again. She sat back up and unbuttoned his shirt.

  “You may be exactly what I’ve been looking for, Alaric. You are lovely, you are obedient, and you’re a blank slate aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Anisette.”

  “Should I show you how to please me tonight, Alaric?”

  “Can I touch you?” he whimpered.

  She sunk down on her knees so she was sitting, spread legged, on his groin, resting her bloomer-covered weight on his cock, which she could feel, engorged, underneath her. It felt as big as it looked.

  He howled, and she could feel the moisture starting between her legs. She was nearly as excited about this as he was. She rocked a little on his body, causing another cry to pull from his throat.

  “Are you listening?” she demanded throatily, pressing her hands hard into his still clothed shoulders. She loved the feel of him solid and strong underneath her. “You’re going to undress me. You’re going to suck at my breasts. When I tell you to, you’ll gently use your teeth. If you impress me,” a touch of breathiness entered her tone, because she knew he would, and she wanted him to, “I’ll let you between my legs. You’ll work your tongue against me until I come. And then, if you beg, maybe I’ll let you do it again.”

  “Please… please, please.”

  Jane slid
off of him and he whined in disappointment.

  “Undress. I want to see you all wrapped up for me.”

  He hesitated, but sat up, frantically pulling off his shirt, his socks, his belt. He hesitated again before unbuttoning his trousers, but pulled them off, then stood. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he hung his head.

  He had unwrapped his cock.

  The ribbon was wound back around his shaft in an amateur attempt to replicate her weavings and knots. She could see where it was pinching at him, more painful than anything she would have done to him.

  “Anisette.”

  “Hush.”

  His shoulders caved, and he stood, shamed, in front of her.

  “Why did you do this?”

  “I couldn’t- I went back to my ship, and all I could think about was you. I didn’t know the ribbon would- and then the others came back and I didn’t- want them to know about you.”

  “You’re ashamed of what I do to you?”

  “No!” he answered, “I just…we’re…they wouldn’t understand.”

  “You rejected my mark.” Jane barked at him, watching his shoulders cave in farther. “You rejected me. I have no need of a dog that will bite my hand, Alaric. Get dressed. Leave.”

  “I didn’t mean to reject you, Anisette. I didn’t mean to, honestly, let me… is there nothing I can do for you? Can we start again? I’ll wear your mark again tomorrow,” he whimpered. Begging was making him harder, Jane noticed with interest. “And the day after. Anything you want. Please don’t send me away. I’ll do anything.”

  “I suppose, this once, I could forgive you,” she said quietly. She hoped her slightly rattled voice was still able to hide the fact she was glad he hadn’t actually left when ordered. He was obedient, but not completely cowed. She liked that. If she had been able to convince herself to settle down with an entirely spineless, obedient man, she would have settled by now. But they always became tiresome, and there were more than a few men across the country that she turned away at her door these days. And she couldn’t take a permanent companion who loved showing it off either. She’d had her share of those as well, and discretion was as important as obedience.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “But only after you take your punishment.”

  Alaric stilled for a moment before finally looking up at her with a hint of fear lurking in his face.

  “Yes, Anisette,” he said.

  “Untie the ribbon, then sit up on the box, facing the statue, on your knees.”

  Jane went to her vanity and fetched a hank of red silk rope while Alaric pulled at the strings around his cock, feverishly trying to undo them with shaking hands. She coiled the rope around her arm, wrapping the disorganized mass into a figure eight around her shoulder and elbow. Alaric finally pulled the last knot free, got onto the box, and looked up at her. His lovely eyes fixed in on the rope, following the motion of her arm. He licked his lips.

  Jane sauntered toward him and slipped the rope from her shoulder. She pulled a section free and looped it over his head, which he rolled back in order to look up at her.

  “You were so close,” she purred as she tied a loose slip knot around his neck.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Get hard. Get close. Then ask me that again.”

  Jane stared into his fluttering eyes as he stroked himself. She tried to fake disappointment. She hadn’t really expected him, inexperienced as he was, to last for a whole day. She would have been impressed if he had, but not nearly as impressed as she was with his desire to make it up to her. Or as impressed as she was with the information that he wasn’t merely a pirate. If he was in charge of repairing the ship, he would have some actual skill and education. He was more interesting than she had imagined a random pretty boy from the Traitor’s Head could ever be. But that didn’t mean she was going to sacrifice the orgasm she had planned on tonight in order to teach him this lesson.

  “What are you going to do to me, Anisette?” Alaric asked through gritted teeth.

  “Stop,” she instructed. Alaric’s hands dropped to his sides, then after a moment, he set them on his knees.

  Jane pulled the slip knot tighter around his neck. Not tight enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know where he stood, or rather, knelt. She let the other end of the rope drop down his back.

  “Up,” she ordered. Alaric lifted himself up off his haunches and onto his knees. Jane wrapped the rope around one thigh, then the other. She pulled the rope down to the handle on the right side of the box then crossed it over to the left side, so Alaric’s legs were secured.

  “Stroke yourself again.”

  “Anisette, what are-”

  “You need an example. I’m going to show you what I want from you. What’s expected if you want to stay with me. You do want to stay with me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Anisette.”

  That gave her an unpleasant tingle in her stomach, and she reminded herself it didn’t mean anything if he didn’t know what he was agreeing to.

  “Stop.”

  Slowly, tauntingly, Jane lowered herself down to her knees. She grabbed the silk ribbon he had left on the floor and lifted it up to the base of his shaft, sliding it along the fat vein that ran underneath his cock. Alaric shuddered and rutted upward into the ribbon. Jane slipped the ribbon right behind his balls and looped the ends around.

  “Look at me,” she ordered. He did so immediately, and she stared into his wide eyes as she pulled the knot tight. When he whimpered, she tied it off. He wriggled as much as he could with his legs tied.

  “Put your arms behind your back.”

  He obeyed, and she wrapped the rope around his arms, binding them together behind his back before looping the ends of the rope around his legs again and tying them off. She settled back and looked at him. Completely immobilized. Leashed around the neck, secured to the table by his legs, and tied around the arms. His cock, swelling farther from the way she had tied it, bobbed in front of him.

  She met his wide eyes for a moment, allowed herself a twinge of disappointment, turned, and left him.

  Chapter Five

  Alaric took a deep breath and tried to calm down. His cock was hard and exposed, the ribbon around it keeping him harder than he had ever been in his life, and he was tied to the box in the middle of Anisette’s tent, helpless until she returned.

  He hadn’t even struggled. Anisette’s orders had washed over him. Sit here. Touch yourself. Stay still. And he’d obeyed. Even as the blood had surged in his bound cock, he had held his arms where he had been ordered to. All for a chance for her forgiveness. Her touch. Her attention.

  His mouth was free, but it was obvious he couldn’t cry out. Any cry would be lost in The Row anyway, and he would rather not be rescued at all than let anyone see him like this. Out from under Anisette’s penetrating stare, he tried to move. The ropes were loose against his skin, not tight enough to hamper his circulation, but when he tried to move it was as though his arms were locked into his shoulder sockets, like his legs were anchored to the box.

  You do want to stay with me, don’t you? she had asked.

  He breathed deeply again, and decided this must be his punishment: to be desperate to be with her, and not have her. It wasn’t all bad really. He liked the feel of the silk sliding over his skin, and he found something oddly comforting about the restriction, something arousing about the restraints.

  And the more time he spent here, under Anisette’s control, panting for the opportunity to have anything she would give him, the more he loved it. He had spent the last two days bellowing at a bunch of lazy idiot pirates, the same way he’d had to yell at the job he had hated so much in his former life, so they could get their damn balloons fixed and fly away and have the captain yell at them. The only thing that had kept him sane was the reminder, heavy between his legs, that he would spend the twilight hours with Anisette, enjoying an hour or two of blissful non-responsibility. And until tonight, a little bit of pr
aise.

  But he had left the safety of this tent, and gone out to the carnival and made a mistake, and now she was gone. He struggled a little longer, but the way it made it his cock bob between his legs was too much to bear. He tried to concentrate on the ache beginning in his knees, the pins and needles in his calves, the itch of the rope against his neck, anything but the unrelievable pressure in his cock, but he couldn’t. The sensations he could feel, and the ones he could imagine, filled his mind, leaving room for nothing else.

  After what seemed like hours to his knees and years to his cock, Alaric heard the soft swish of silk parting, and the rustle of skirts. Anisette flashed into view, her dress catching the candle light as she turned around the corner into the room.

  “Please-” Alaric began, but he cut himself off as he caught a movement behind her, a man who was staring at her as though she were the stars and sky.

  Anisette stopped just inside the door. For a moment her eyes burned into him from behind her mask, and she turned to the other man.

  “Do you see him, Pemberton?” she asked. Her voice was rough and high and strangely breathy, nothing like the way she talked to Alaric. The man spared Alaric a quick glance, and Alaric shuddered in shame.

  “Yes, Scarlet,” Pemberton replied. Alaric suddenly placed him; he was the barman from “The Traitor’s Head”. The one who brought out a glass for her even though he had been in the middle of serving a drink to another customer.

  “Do you remember when that was you, Pemberton?”

  “Yes, Scarlet.”

  “Then you know what to do.”

  Pemberton nodded and undid the series of frogs and toggles that ran down the front of his shirt, quickly and efficiently. Anisette, or Scarlet as he apparently called her, grabbed the faded red bandana Pemberton wore tied around his neck and tugged, pulling Pemberton’s face to her neck. She slid her hands under his shirt, slipping it off of his back and running her bare hands down the muscles underneath it.