Bound With Pearls

by Bristol, Sidney

  She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. Removing his hand, Daniel smeared her juices on her thigh.

  “There’s a bottle of oil in the box. You’re going to massage me until I tell you to stop.”

  He faked nonchalance by rolling onto his stomach, his aching dick trapped between his body and the sheets. Pillowing his head on crossed arms, he listened to her panting breaths, the way she didn’t move at once but collected her thoughts first. Truth be told, he needed the time to prepare himself. Fucking Christine several times over sounded like the perfect way to spend the night.

  The scent of sandalwood blossomed on the air behind him, the sheets rustling with her movements. Warm oil dribbled across his shoulders and down his spine. A puddle pooled at his lower back.

  She straddled his hips, her heated core pressed flush to his ass. She slicked her palms up through the puddle, driving the heels of her hands into his muscles and spreading the oil. Up and down his back, she dispersed it and attacked the worst knots. Her breath puffed against his neck as she leaned forward, her thumbs kneading his neck. The beads rolled up his spine, tickling him. Her breasts grazed his back and she groaned.

  The sensual torment continued. Every movement she made was punctuated with soft moans. The clamps tormented him and he wasn’t even the one wearing them. She worked his muscles from his shoulders down to his calves. The strength of her ministrations decreased but her attention to detail didn’t. He was thoroughly enjoying it, his body sinking farther into the mattress.

  “Sir, please turn over and allow me do your front.” He had to take a deep breath before he rolled to his back, one arm curled under his head, rubbing his chest with the other to keep it busy.

  The color in her cheeks was high, her eyes bright.

  She straddled his hips. Their gaze stayed locked as she uncapped the oil and poured it on his chest in one continuous stream until the bottle was empty. Tossing it away, she leaned down, planting her hands on either side of his shoulders. Chris lowered herself until their chests pressed together and the beads were sandwiched between them.

  He let one hand rise to cup her ass. “What are you doing?”

  “Rubbing the oil in, Sir.”

  The smile was coy. She rotated to the right, drawing a circle on his chest with her breasts. The clamps scraped, skimming over his nipple. She repeated the motion in the opposite direction. The beads slid easily between their bodies, slicked by the oil.

  He let his eyes drift closed for a moment.

  Her warmth disappeared. Goose bumps skittered across his flesh in her absence.

  He reorganized his thoughts. He couldn’t let the sensual massage continue unless he wanted to blow his wad like a teenager. Glancing at a digital clock mounted on the wall, he calculated how long he’d left the clamps on and devised the next method of torture.

  Scooping her into his arms and striding across the room, he couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction when she hugged him closer, eyes shut, and let him do what he wanted. He couldn’t decide if he should feel sorry for her or hopeful.

  Daniel adjusted the modified X-shaped restraint bench by pressing and holding a pedal. The gears slowly hummed to life, tilting the X until it was parallel to the ground. Christine hadn’t yet opened her eyes. The balance tipped in favor of hope. He seemed to have won her trust.

  He tried to tamp down on the hope. It was a fragile thing he didn’t know whether he was ready to nurture yet. Christine admittedly had many marks against her, but damn him if he couldn’t wonder what it would be like to learn this woman’s body, to have her complete trust.

  Setting her down on the bench, he watched her while he positioned her to lie flat. Her eyes fluttered open, looking up at him through her lashes. A faint smile tugged at her lips before she glanced to the right. The sight of the arm restraint didn’t surprise her that he could tell.

  Intrigued, he waited to see what she would do next.

  Bringing her arms over her head, she laid each along the lines of the restraints that would hold her arms out diagonally from her body. She moved to do the same with her legs.

  The bottom dropped out of his stomach and he had to kick his own proverbial ass into taking over the situation. He guided one leg to the restraint before moving to the other and adjusting the bench to ensure she was safely supported. He watched her, looking for some sign of distress or the return of her sour attitude, but she smiled at him and lay obediently where he put her.

  “You’ve done bondage before?”

  She lifted one brow. “Yes Sir.”

  He mirrored the action. Usually it took a long time before a sub learned the nuances of his Dominance, but she’d picked up on the finer points. A look, a raised brow and she obeyed. Direct orders she had occasional problems with.

  “What do you like about it?” He buckled the restraints over her thighs.

  “I like…”

  He filled the space by leaning up between her legs to buckle the restraint around her middle.

  “I like letting someone else be in control. I like satisfying someone else, Sir.”

  He finished binding her to the bench, her arms and legs loosely restrained.

  Standing by her side, he leaned over her chest and inspected the clamps. The beads were oily but still beautiful draped across her ribs. Her nipples were contracted in tight peaks. They would be tender for days, something else he found satisfying.

  “Let’s take these off, shall we?”

  Her breath hitched at his words and stuttered to a halt as he reached for and loosened one clamp. Her breath hissed out. Little angry marks marred the surface of the areola. Bending over her breast, he took the peak into his mouth, licking and soothing the hurt.

  He repeated the attentions to her other mound, looking for any tearing of the skin before appeasing his desire to kiss and lick her breasts.

  She watched him circle her body. With her legs restrained and spread, he had an uninhibited view of her pussy, the gleaming lips and her thatch of curls. The clit clamp winked at him. As he’d thought, the jewelry was at risk of slipping off. It took only a gentle tug to remove it. The slight touch ripped a pained moan from her. He covered her mound with his hand, applying gentle pressure to help relieve some of the sensation.

  It was amusing how she tried to lift her hips and push against his hand.

  “Not yet.”

  He met her empty glare with a smile. Oh, she wanted, but she craved his control more. She was a natural submissive, but he doubted the tendency extended out of the bedroom, which was fine by him.

  He stalked around to her head. A shiver stole down her body and her breath hitched. She wasn’t scared of him—apprehensive maybe—but she trusted him.

  Standing so his dick almost brushed the top of her head, he leaned over her and grabbed a pull pin under the bench.

  “What do you say if you want me to stop?”

  “Yellow for reassessing. Red for stop.” She didn’t break eye contact, even as he pulled the pin and removed the support.

  Her head dropped back and her eyes snapped open wide, but his hand was there to catch her. His fingers snagged in her hair and for a moment his hold was a little awkward. She tensed, supporting herself while he threaded his fingers through her curls, cupping the back of her head.

  “You’re going to suck me like this. Think you can handle it?” His voice was gruff. He wanted to be in her in more than one way. For now, this would have to do.

  Shit. He’d already made plans, counted on more than these moments together. On one hand, it wasn’t smart, on the other he was certain they weren’t done. A woman didn’t fit into his plans at the moment, but the best things rarely did.

  “Yes Sir.” Her purring voice brought him back into the moment. Her body was a buffet for the eyes.

  “Good.” Grasping his dick, he pressed the tip to her lips, tracing them. “Are you going to swallow for me?”

  Her tongue snaked out, grazing his sensitive flesh.

  “Are you?�
�� he demanded again. He was in control here.

  “Yes Sir.”

  With one hand supporting her head, he used the other to guide his cock to the center of her lips. She opened her mouth and, even though he knew she was restrained, completely helpless to move on her own, it still felt as though she sucked him down into the hot cavern of her mouth. At this angle, he couldn’t see her face—a positioning that required more trust on her part.

  Though he was impatient, Daniel thrust only the head of his cock into her mouth.

  She treated him as she would a straw, sucking in her cheeks. Her tongue worked magic over his flesh, licking and caressing him as he held perfectly still, relishing the sensations.

  As good as it was, he pulled out. Her eyes fluttered open, the color high in her cheeks.

  “That work for you?” His voice was a rough growl.

  She blinked, brows lowering. “No.” She shook her head. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

  His grin was probably more like a leer from her perspective. “That’s not what I meant.” He brushed stray strands of hair off her face.

  “It doesn’t hurt. I don’t gag easily.” The blush returned. “It’s different though.”

  “Okay.”

  Thrusting into her waiting mouth was heaven. He cupped her head with both hands and tilted her back a little more.

  She hummed and sucked him harder. Her lips squeezed his dick while her tongue stroked him. His heightened state of arousal made it a contest of wills not to come after a few thrusts. Pulling almost out of her mouth, he groaned as she paid special attention to the underside of his cock. Her body jiggled with the movements, her breasts bobbing up and down as she breathed.

  Leaning forward, he sucked on a nipple while she swallowed around his engorged cock.

  His spine bowed and his cock slid a little deeper into her mouth, bumping her throat. A tingling sensation spread across his lower back and his balls drew up tight. He was close.

  Bracing one hand on the bench, he pumped several quick, shallow thrusts. He groaned as the orgasm rolled up through him and his toes curled. Her mouth and throat constricted around his dick, swallowing him down.

  He was in trouble.

  Daniel needed a moment to collect himself. Grasping his limp dick, he pulled it from Christine’s mouth. He swept her hair up, winding it around the hand holding her head, and lifted the support back into place.

  Leaning over, he kissed her, the positioning a little awkward, his nose bumping her chin. Smoothing his hands over her cheeks, he opened his mouth a little wider and sucked her bottom lip between his. He kept the kiss short, for her sake.

  “That was, wow.” Her chest heaved as she spoke. Smoothing her hair off her face, he ran his hands across her shoulders as he moved to her side.

  “You okay?” She’d gotten his rocks off big time, but he wasn’t done yet.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get you some water.”

  “I don’t need to…”

  He chuckled and smiled at her over his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean, but thanks. You should drink though.”

  Retrieving water bottles from the mini-fridge under the wardrobe, he helped her to drink through a straw, urging her to take more than she would have. Satisfied, he stowed their bottles back in the fridge.

  His gaze fell to her breasts as he approached the apparatus. He scowled at the dark crescents that shouldn’t have bracketed her nipples.

  “The clamps bruised you?”

  She opened her eyes. “I bruise easily. Sir.”

  He should wrap her in plastic wrap and suspend her for that. With pillows to prevent her delicate skin from bruising. Maybe a few hours spent with her nose in the corner would teach her the lesson. His words were clipped when he spoke. “You should have told me.”

  “I don’t even think about it, Sir.”

  He gripped her chin. “You. Will. Tell. Me.”

  Her eyes fluttered wide at the force behind his words, but she nodded, whispering, “Yes Sir.”

  He released her and ducked his head to her breasts. He pressed gentle kisses to each peak, laving the abused flesh.

  His exploration of her body continued after a long stop at her breasts. Daniel kissed his way to her navel and skated his hands down the sides of her waist. She shuddered under his touch.

  He looked up her body. “Ticklish?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Mmm. Good.”

  “Oh god,” she muttered.

  He ran his hands up and down her sides, using light touches. She squirmed, biting her lower lip. She didn’t like it but she wasn’t going to tell him no. Interesting, since she’d been all about telling him no previously.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Her lower lip quivered. “I’m not exactly fond of that, Sir.”

  “What do you say when something hurts or you’re uncomfortable?” He coasted his hands over her sides.

  She squirmed, trying to twist away from his touch. “Yellow.”

  “Do you want to say that now?”

  Her face twisted up. “Yes and no. I really don’t like being tickled, but it doesn’t hurt. Sir.”

  The sadistic part of him wondered how long it would take to push her to the limit, but for now he left her ticklish bits. He bypassed her hips and pussy, nibbling down one thigh. She had fantastic legs.

  He stood between her spread legs, a hand on either ankle. She was complicated. There were things about her that irritated him, but she sure as hell attracted him, made him think about the future organically, without leading him there with catty suggestions or manipulative ways.

  He unbuckled the straps at her thighs and helped her bend her joints. The silence grew heavy. She groaned and bent at the knee.

  “Oh, thank you,” she sighed.

  He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped open.

  “Sir. Thank you, Sir. Sorry, I’m usually better about that, but my mind is a little scrambled, Sir.”

  “Scrambled?” He quirked a brow.

  She opened her mouth and shut it. “Not scrambled in a bad way.”

  “There’s scrambled in a good way?”

  “Scrambled eggs?” Her smile transformed her face. She was beautiful, but with the color high in her cheeks, her eyes glazed with lust and her hair tousled, she was stunning.

  He chuckled and leaned over her to press a kiss to her stomach. “Point proven. And?”

  She glanced away and her smile grew. “You weren’t what I expected, Sir.”

  “Well, you weren’t what I expected either. It’s been a pleasure tonight.”

  Her gaze caressed him and stirred a desire for more. He held her gaze and planted a kiss to the top of her mound. Her little gasp was music to his ears as he sank to his knees, her pussy at the perfect level for his mouth.

  “I’m going to fuck your pussy with my mouth, Christine.”

  She whimpered.

  “If you want me to stop, you can tell me.”

  “Noooooo,” she wailed. Her thighs clenched around his shoulders.

  Spreading her open, he inserted one finger, sliding into her depths all the way to his knuckles. She clenched around him and her thighs hugged his shoulders.

  “Damn, you’re so fucking responsive.” Pressing a kiss to her clit, he arranged her legs over his shoulders. The restraint at her hips would keep her where he wanted her, but he liked the feel of a woman’s legs wrapping around him.

  He spread her folds and thrust his tongue into her, slow and easy, tasting her unique flavor. He left her clit alone, fucking her with his tongue instead. If her tits were bruised, what the hell had he done to her lower regions? He would be careful.

  Her legs squeezed. He could feel her calves crossing across his back. Her hips shifted slightly against his mouth in an attempt to move with him.

  “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she chanted.

  His hand spread over her lower stomach. He could feel the tightening of her muscles. Dipp
ing his fingers through her thatch of curls, he found her button, swollen and slick. He circled it with his thumb and her entire body reacted, drawing tight around him, close to the edge of release.

  Thrusting into her, he worked her clit gently with his fingertips until she screamed, legs holding him prisoner as her body convulsed around him.

  Minutes later, he lifted her from the cross bench and carried her to the bed. He laid her in the middle of the mattress and spooned her back to his chest. He used a lock of her hair to trace the lines of her tattoo.

  It was a work of art that fascinated him, as did the woman who wore it. It was a graceful part of her. She was the firebird that danced and glowed with an inner light that drew him and made him want things. One of which was a sketchpad. The longer he examined the feathers and the way they moved on her back, the more he wanted to design something similar, yet completely different. A piece to be worn. For the first time in weeks, he felt the bite of inspiration.

  As much as he wanted to allow himself to nap with her, their time was almost up.

  “Hey.” He tugged on the lock of hair until she turned toward him. “They’re going to kick us out of here in a few minutes.”

  She groaned and wiped her face.

  “I know.” He kissed her cheek when she tried to snuggle back into the pillows. His stomach did a flip and his fingers tingled. He wanted this, he was man enough to admit it, but damn if he didn’t feel like a teenager asking a girl out for the first time. “I was thinking, come to my place. Not for sex, to sleep. I’m not ready for tonight to end.”

  She parted her fingers, studying him through the digits. “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed, frustrated with himself and nervous about botching this. He settled his hand over her breast and the purple bruises. “Have you ever wanted to just be with someone? Do you like sleeping with someone else beside you?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s what I mean. Come home with me and let me put you to bed.”

  “Um.” She took a deep breath and his stomach almost bailed ship. “Well, the deal was to spend the evening with you, wasn’t it? It’s not over yet.”