Show Me the Ropes

by Roz Lee

  Thor’s thick Norwegian accent sent shivers all the way to her toes. She’d heard Thor speak many times, but never in this low, seductive manner. No wonder he was such a favorite with the passengers.

  Fallon lay back on the table and shifted to get comfortable.

  Thor took her hand and placed a loop of satin across her palm. “This is your anchor. Richard did not want to bind you, but he wanted you to have something to hold to, if you feel the need.” He slipped another one over her other hand. She tested the anchors and found them to be sturdy. “Good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, for your neck. . . . ”

  He placed a soft brace beneath her neck and cradled her head in a horseshoe shaped pillow. “Now the blindfold.”

  “Blindfold?”

  “Trust me, Fallon. This massage will be like nothing you have ever experienced.”

  It was already that, and they hadn’t even begun. She tried to relax as Thor slipped the blindfold over her eyes, shutting out even the soft candlelight.

  “One last thing. Before we go any further, I must warn you. I am going to put headphones on you. The music will relax you. Let yourself go, Fallon. Trust Richard. I will be here to give him instruction, but only he will touch you once we begin. Forget I am here. Forget everything but Richard, and how his touch makes you feel.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good girl. You have a safe word?”

  She shook her head as best she could against the confining pillow. “Yes, stop.”

  Thor laughed. “Clever. Use it if you must. I’m going to put the headphones on and then I will remove your sarong. Then I will invite Richard in. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Oh God, what had she agreed to? Thor adjusted the sound muffling headset over her ears. Soft music floated through her brain like sound on the wind. She jumped when Thor’s fingers brushed against her chest, opening the clasp on her sarong. The room was warm, but felt cool against her heated skin, now exposed to his gaze. What must he think of the ropes?

  In her dark cocoon, deprived of light and sound, she could only feel. Time seemed irrelevant as she waited for Richard. Was it minutes? An hour? She couldn’t tell. She felt the air stir as Thor moved about the room. Slowly her body calmed, lulled by the music, the darkness.

  Hands slid along her leg, down to her ankle and over the arch of her foot. She sighed as strong fingers pressed and smoothed along muscles she’d thought relaxed. Richard’s hands. Warm. Strong. Competent. She inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of roses, her favorite, washed through her. Lovely. Her mind floated free on a sensory wave. Deprived of sight, she conjured her own images. She saw Richard’s hands, his long fingers caressing her skin, sliding along her leg, her arms, along the column of her neck.

  The satin bands lay lax across her palms, a fleeting thought crossed her mind. Why did Richard want her to have them? No sooner had the thought come and gone, she knew the answer. She arched her back and gripped the bands for purchase as ice shocked her nipples into hard pebbles. A firm hand on her stomach urged her to settle and accept. She relaxed, focusing on the pleasure. The pain receded as quickly as it had come. Another image formed, her distended nipples, cold as cherry popsicles, craving the warmth of Richard’s mouth.

  Instead of his mouth, clamps, heated, hard, unforgiving. She sucked in a ragged breath and once again Richard’s open palm flattened against her stomach. His fingers caressed and soothed, until she once again relaxed and let the pleasure override the pain. A kaleidoscope of images flashed through her mind. Vivid colors, sharp, jagged fragments of colored light, disjointed at first, they coalesced into a solid image—Richard’s eyes fixed on her nipples, dark pools of desire as he toyed with her, pleasured her.

  Heated blood rushed to the clamped rubies and as heat replaced the cold, she felt the bite of the clamps. Richard’s fingers closed around her breasts, cradled her fullness in his palms. He kneaded her until all she felt was pleasure and a desire so deep she had to fight the need to beg. Her body relaxed against the table, accepting Richard’s mastery, awaiting his next assault on her senses.

  She didn’t have long to wait. A heated towel dropped over her from neck to crotch. The gold ropes absorbed and magnified the heat, transferring it to her skin. She pulled against the satin bands. Like stepping into a too hot bath, the towel cooled quickly, only to be replaced by another one. Richard’s fingers moved to her thighs, rolling and kneading the tight muscles there, drawing her thoughts away from the heated towel draped over her. His hand slid under her knee and she had no muscles left with which to protest as he lifted her leg, then the other, and spread her wide.

  Those long fingers worked her clit, circled, pressed, inflamed. He stopped long enough to replace the heated towel with an ice-cold one. Her thighs quivered as she tried to hold them up and open as Richard had left them. She lost the battle and her heels slid on the sheet. Richard slid an arm under her knees, brought them back up, and urged her to open for him. Just as she relaxed her thighs, he pressed a steaming towel between her legs and clamped them shut over it. Fire and Ice. She shivered and clutched desperately at the satin bands.

  With one arm wrapped beneath her thighs, Richard used his free hand to massage and sooth. His fingers trailed across her stomach and up, over her ribcage to her breasts. He caressed each one in turn. Her senses reeled at the onslaught of tactile stimuli. Unable to form a coherent protest, she submitted. Each new touch, each new sensation shocked, then delighted. She willed her body to relax again, knowing when she did Richard would be ready with yet another sensation for her. An image lodged in her mind. Richard’s face overcome with arousal, pleased with her responses,desiring only her. If only. . . .

  Her mind drifted on the wave of desire his touch brought. He relaxed his grip on her thighs and guided them open, to rest against the table. Richard’s hand replaced the heated towel, stroking, sliding along her folds now dripping with her need for him. She clutched the satin loops in her fists as his fingers probed her swollen folds, dipped into her channel, and massaged her to a frenzy of need. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking, pleading for the release only he could provide.

  His hot fingers twisted and plunged. His knuckles scraped against her inflamed tissue.

  “Richard.” She cried his name when he pulled his fingers from her.

  Another steaming one replaced the ice-cold towel over her torso. Her breath caught in her throat. As she sucked in another breath, filling her lungs with the heavenly rose-scented air, Richard’s fingers returned to her molten core. She raised her hips to meet his thrust and met, not with his heated hand, but with a solid block of ice. Richard parted her and speared her with a cock of ice, sweeping her legs together to hold the frozen invader in place.

  His mouth came down on her clit and she was lost. Her pussy clenched over the frigid phallus impaling her. She screamed into the silent room as the orgasm shook her to her core. Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Blood pumped to her clamped nipples. She thrashed against her gentle restraints. Suddenly, Richard was beside her, his full length pressed against hers. He released her nipples and his hand cupped her swollen mound.

  His hand left her and she was mortified at the whimper she felt leave her throat. He removed the headset and blindfold, and after trailing his hand gently over her face, returned it to her throbbing mound.

  “Shhh. There, now.” He slipped the now empty condom from her and tossed it in the general direction of the wastebasket.

  “It’s over. Are you alright?” He draped one leg over hers, the anchor she needed.

  “Yes. Oh God, Richard.” She closed her eyes as she remembered the incredible sensations he’d provided.

  “You were magnificent.”

  “I. . . . ”

  He kissed her, long and sweet and drugging. “Sleep now. We have this room as long as we want it. I’ll hold you.”

  She fell asleep wrapped in his arms, the one place she knew she would always want to be.

  * * * * *
>
  He was going to hell. No, he was in hell. No doubt about it. Loving this woman made him crazy, made him do things he knew were depraved, but he couldn’t help himself. She responded to everything he did with innocent abandon. As he listened to her breathing even out, and held her trusting soul in his arms, he cursed himself for the insensitive, depraved bastard he was. How could he expect her to reciprocate his love when he took advantage of her over and over again?

  She burrowed closer and he buried his face in her hair. Golden blonde strands picked up the faint light in the room, making a halo around her head. He didn’t deserve her trust. She might have a Ph.D., but she was nothing more than a babe in the woods to his big bad wolf. She had an education he much admired. In fact, if she’d been short on brains, she never would have captured his attention. He’d had his fill of brainless twits and gold-diggers. A woman who knew her own mind, and could carry on an intelligent conversation, was a turn-on, pure and simple.

  Careful not to wake her, he slid his fingers to the key around her neck and released it. All three locks slid open, and he gently peeled the ropes from her. Tiny indentations and pink lines criss-crossed her body, left from the heated towels lying on the ropes. He rolled her to her back and slid the last of the ropes from her. She moaned in her sleep and curled back against him.

  I felt sorry for the young woman. She worked his cock with enthusiasm, unaware his eyes and desire were focused on someone else. Me. His eyes never left my face as I taught her how to drive a man mad by tugging on his testicles. He never even flinched as I told her how to find that small indentation in the perineum that would increase his pleasure and bring him to orgasm.

  From the file labeled – 'Subject M5, Richard Wolfe'

  Chapter Seven

  Mine.

  The single word echoed through his brain.

  Mine.

  He knew he should apologize for marking her, and he probably would, but something inside him shifted the moment he saw the impressions on her skin. She lay curled into him, trusting beyond anything he could ever have expected, beyond anything he deserved.

  Mine.

  He knew he should regret marking her, but he didn’t. The pink lines were already fading, and would disappear completely in a matter of minutes, but they were a visible reminder of how much pleasure he’d brought her. He hoped to hell she felt the same way when she saw them.

  Fallon stirred, her lips curved into a slow, sensuous smile that had him wanting to taste them again, but she’d had enough for one day, and she wasn’t ready to know everything.

  Mine.

  He watched her eyes flutter open, saw desire flare to life as she recognized, perhaps recalled, the devastating pleasure he’d given her a few minutes ago. Her natural, uninhibited responses were a beautiful thing to see, a gift he’d treasure the rest of his life. He returned her smile, let her see her desire mirrored in his eyes. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted, needed her.

  She reached for his cock. His hand shackled her wrist long before she reached her goal.

  “No.”

  Her smile faded. “Richard, I want to.”

  “No.” He stumbled off the narrow table, out of her reach. Too soon to tell her.

  She brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes and sat up. The pile of gold ropes on the floor, twinkled in the candlelight. Her hand flew to her throat and a sharp gasp escaped her lips.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you take the ropes off? Why can’t I touch you?”

  He exhaled a long and weary sigh. “Fallon. . . .”

  “I don’t understand, Richard.”

  He hated the confusion he saw on her face. “It was the right thing to do, taking the ropes off.” One step closed the distance between them. His hand came up to caress her breast, a single long finger traced a line over the swell and down to her midriff. “I’ve been a monster. I hardly know myself around you.” It was all the apology he could muster. His finger traced the faint pink lines on her breast.

  He knew the instant she noticed the marks. She sucked in a sharp breath, and he drew his hand away as if she’d slapped him.

  “They’ll be gone by morning.”

  “Really? I hope not.”

  “What?” His head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers.

  “I said I hope not.” She slid off the table and ran her hands over herself as if touching the lines made them more real. “I wish I had a mirror.”

  “I shouldn’t have. . . . ”

  “What? Are you sorry you did this?”

  He was trying to apologize, but all he seemed to be doing was pissing her off.

  “Isn’t this what you intended?”

  “Yes.” To mark you as mine. How could he explain to her the soul deep satisfaction he felt? He didn’t understand it himself.

  “It’s temporary.” She smoothed her hand over her stomach, and with bent head, examined the pattern on her skin. “It’s lovely. And I’m glad you did it.” She stepped closer to him and took his hands in hers. “I. . . I. . . well I loved it, what you did to me tonight. I never knew there was so much pleasure to be had, and these marks remind me how much you care for me. You’d never hurt me Richard, I know that.”

  “They don’t hurt?”

  “No. I swear. It’s no more than if you’d taken a marker and drawn them on me. They’ll fade sooner than ink would.”

  He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe he’d done the right thing.

  “I want to wear the ropes.”

  He couldn’t put the ropes back on her. Not yet anyway, because no matter what he told himself to justify what he was doing to her, no matter the pleasure he’d given her, he knew he was being a selfish ass, living out his darkest fantasies at her expense.

  “Not tonight.”

  “Tomorrow then. You can help me put them back on in the morning. I think I’ve earned another piece, don’t you?”

  * * * * *

  He left her in her cabin, waiting until he heard the deadbolt slide into place before he headed to the nearest bar. The woman battered at his fragile wall of self-control like an invading army with the intent to rape and pillage. Every time he saw her, he slipped a little further into madness. He wanted. He craved. He needed her with every fiber of his being, but despite the constant erection he had in her presence, his need to give her pleasure overruled everything else. So why was he obsessed with seeing her bound? And why did she continue to insist he hadn’t done anything wrong?

  Somewhere around his third whiskey, straight up, Sean joined him at the bar. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Suit yourself.” Sean ordered a beer and toyed with the foam-crested glass, drawing ever-widening circles in the polished glass bar.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the ship?”

  “I’m on a break. My men will let me know if anything needs my attention.”

  Richard grunted. He didn’t really care as long as the ship didn’t sink, and the passengers were safe. He’d ceased to care about the Lothario a long time ago. “Did Ryan tell you we’re trying to sell the ship?”

  “He mentioned it.”

  “Just don’t let it sink before we unload it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Sean took another sip of his beer and made a wider circle on the bar. “What happened? I thought you loved this lifestyle.”

  “I’m a good actor, what can I say?”

  “I’m thinking a woman happened. Perhaps a lovely blonde with a first class brain?”

  “Think all you want.”

  “Perhaps one who’s a natural sub?”

  Richard turned on him. “What, exactly, are you saying?”

  “Whoa! Down, boy. I’m just voicing my observations.”

  “And what would you know about it?”

  “Enough. I’ve been searching for a sub for a long time. Haven’t found the right one. Once I thought maybe Fallon was the one, but no way would she submi
t to me, so I passed.”

  Richard considered throwing Sean overboard. It would be worth a lifetime in prison to see the bastard drown. “Stay the hell away from her.”

  “No problem. She’s yours. Always has been. I wondered how long it would take for you to claim her.”

  “Claim her?”

  “Yeah, you know, bind her to you.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh? It is from where I stand. The woman will do anything you ask, and do it willingly. I bet you could lead her around the Odyssey Deck wearing nothing but that rope get-up you had made for her, and she’d follow. She’s a natural sub. Smart, in charge of her life, but when it comes to sex, she wants a man to give her permission to be herself.”

  “I’d never ask her to do something like that.”

  “I know you wouldn’t. You love her, but you see it every day on the Lothario. Hell, there’s a sub and her dom sitting right over there, and he’s got her masturbating for a crowd.”

  Richard spun on his stool and sure enough the woman in question wore a collar and leash and was stark naked, pleasuring herself with a giant dildo while a crowd watched and cheered her on. Her dom stood behind her, the end of her leash in one hand, stroking her hair with the other. It was pretty obvious from the way she hesitated before following each barked order that she wasn’t enjoying it as much as he was. “He’s an ass. She should ram that thing in his big mouth and tell him to fuck himself.”

  “That’s something I’d like to see. I seriously doubt the woman is a true sub. At the least, they don’t have any true feelings for each other. If he cared about her, he wouldn’t tell her to do something like that.”

  Richard turned back to the bar. “You think I’m in love with Fallon?”

  “I know you are, and she’s in love with you.” Sean finished his beer and signaled for another one. “Now that you’ve claimed her, what are you going to do?”