Twist Tied

by Guimond, Heather

  I rutted into her forcefully, her bound body helpless to my passion. She strained against the ropes, obviously wanting to wrap her arms and legs around me, to seek her satisfaction along with me, but for once, I was going to give her what she’d been asking for. I was going to fuck her long and hard, but I was going to make damned sure she wouldn’t come—at least not this time. I’d leave her aching as she’d asked for weeks ago, then once she was out of her mind craving satisfaction, I’d bend her over her living room sofa and fuck her lights out.

  I lost myself in the heat of her pussy. I surrendered to all the pleasure that had been threatening to overwhelm me, just let it wash over my entire body before pulling out as I reached the pinnacle. Swiftly jerking on my cock, I rose above her and let myself spill all over her abdomen and chest. Her chest heaved with excitement, her eyes wild and hungry.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed out again and again. You’d think I’d have given her the orgasm of her lifetime, rather than left her completely unsatisfied. “You don’t know how many times I’ve had abduction fantasies. I know lots of women do, but I used to worry about myself.”

  “It’s just harmless fantasy. It doesn’t mean you really want to be kidnapped, or I want to kidnap someone.” I shuddered when I thought about any woman being assaulted or harmed like that.

  “Consider my mind completely blown.”

  I left her to catch her breath as I went to get a warm, wet washcloth from her bathroom. I returned, cleaning her lovingly. I couldn’t explain my feelings. Despite my abhorrence of violence against women, I’d been just as leveled by the experience as she was. I never knew playing such a kinky game while taking sole satisfaction in her body could be so... well… satisfying.

  As Wyatt released me from the silken bindings, I couldn’t find any words. Holy shit, oh my fucking God, Jesus Christ, that was incredible, or anything along those lines didn’t seem to fully encompass the rampant emotions ripping through me. If I’d had any doubts about Wyatt’s ability to take charge, they were completely obliterated after what he’d just done to me. I wondered why he’d seemed so hesitant up to now. To me, it seemed like he was made to be in control.

  I laid there, boneless as he lovingly cleaned me up. Neither one of us spoke though the energy between us was palpable. It was a current tying us together, fusing a bond between us. I’d never felt so… in love… with someone before.

  When he was finished, he climbed into bed next to me and pulled me into his arms. I rested my head on his chest, both of us lying there without saying a word.

  I woke sometime in the early evening, Wyatt spooning me from behind. I was groggy and sore but more delighted than I’d been in a long time. I quietly rose from the bed, grabbing my favorite bathrobe and slipping it on. I made my way to the kitchen and opened the drawer that held the menus from all my favorite takeout places. I wanted to surprise Wyatt with a nice meal like I thought a good girlfriend should but was feeling far too much languor to actually cook.

  Not knowing whether he’d prefer Indian or Thai food, I realized I would have to wake him up. I didn’t want to disturb him, but I was feeling even more like it wasn’t my place to make any decisions after what had happened between us. I’d never felt so deferential in my entire life.

  “Wyatt…” I called softly as I re-entered the bedroom. “Wake up, baby.”

  I slid underneath the covers again where he laid on his side, still snoring. I curled myself around him from behind, my hand coming around to rub his belly.

  “Wyyyyyaaaatttt…” I hummed into his ear.

  He rolled over to face me, blinking repeatedly to clear his eyes of the remnants of sleep lingering over them.

  “Hey beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “What’s going on? What time is it?”

  “It’s about five o’clock. I was just about to order something for dinner. Which do you prefer, Indian or Thai?”

  Wyatt sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before shaking his head.

  “I don’t care for either, to be honest. Let’s go hit a buffet. I feel like I could eat a horse.”

  “I really don’t want to get dressed,” I said, lazily flopping to my back. “I just want to lounge around, riding my post-coital high.”

  “Sorry, missy. No lazing about,” he said firmly. “Get dressed. We’ve spent most of our time hidden away in the apartment since I arrived. It’s time to get out and be a part of society again. I’m going to take a shower. Grab some clothes for me—just one of my long-sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans. I’ll be out in ten.”

  Without any further preamble, he strode toward my bathroom, leaving me blinking at his rear view. Insisting we go out when I’d already explained I didn’t even want to get dressed was bad enough but demanding that I get his clothes for him? Who the fuck did he think I was—the maid? I’d take a shower after he got out, but the hell if I was going to pick out his outfit like I was his mommy.

  I sat up and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over my chest as I fumed, waiting for him to walk out of the bathroom dripping wet to find I hadn’t moved more than a couple inches.

  It was only minutes before he did just that, looking at me with a confused expression.

  “Um, Clarisse. Didn’t you get my clothes like I asked?”

  “You didn’t ask me anything—you told me to. I chose not to follow your orders,” I replied sourly.

  “Is this you trying to manipulate me again?”

  I jumped up from the bed, head-bobbing and finger-wagging as I prepared to give him a tongue lashing.

  “No, this is me telling you that you can--”

  “You know what?” He cut me off before I could even finish my sentence. “You confuse the fuck out of me. You tell me you want me to be the dominant one in this relationship. I’ve had my doubts since you’re always so fucking confident and capable, but today, after what we did, I thought I just might be able to be the man you wanted me to be. When I try to be that guy, you get your damned panties in a twist, and here you are, back to your usual stubborn, sassy self. Make up your goddamned mind, Clarisse. What the hell do you want?”

  I opened my mouth again, but no sound came out.

  “I’ll tell you what you want. You really want some submissive man who’ll switch back and forth at your whim. When you want to play kinky games, he’ll cater to you. When you want to run the show, he’ll step back and let you be the boss. When you can’t make a fucking decision, then you want him to step up and be a man. You don’t want a Dominant, Clarisse. You want a Daddy who’ll hold your hand when you need it but let you wander off and do your thing when you feel like it.”

  “That’s totally not true,” I stammered. “I know what I want, and it’s not a parent.”

  “Then what is it? I can be your boyfriend, I can be your kinky bed partner, but I can’t be a yo-yo who’s constantly trying to figure out what you need when you want something. I really don’t think you know what that is,” he shouted as he stalked over to his suitcase and pulled out his clothes. Yanking on his pants and pulling a shirt over his head, he continued his tirade. “Not once have you asked me what I want. I don’t want to be the guy you say you want. I want you just like you are, I don’t want you to bow down to me. I want us to do whatever feels right in the moment, whether it’s an experience like we just had or when you’re shoving me onto my bed, ready to take whatever you fucking want from me.

  “I love you, Clarisse, I swear to God, I do, but I can’t be the guy you say you want. I honestly think I’m the guy you need, one who’ll treat you like an equal, one who’ll pick you up when you fall, or take the wheel when you’re tired, and someone who’ll rock your sweet ass in bed, but I’m not going to play this kind of game with you. Make up your fucking mind.”

  He sat down and started pulling on his socks, then retrieved his shoes from where they rested at the foot of my bed.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly very unsure of myself.

  “What does it l
ook like I’m doing? I’m getting ready to leave.”

  “You still want to go out to eat?” My head was spinning at how everything had just spiraled out of control.

  “No, Clarisse, I’m leaving, meaning I’m going to call for an Uber, and I’m getting on the next flight back to Santa Fe. Call me in a few days if you get your head on straight. Otherwise, just send me an email letting me know I need to find a new assistant.”

  Before I knew it, he was zipping up his suitcase and wheeling it out the front door. I huffed in frustration. All this just because I didn’t get his fucking clothes.

  Fired up from my complete irritation, I reached for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts and pulled up Rae’s number. Fuck Wyatt. Now, I was going to go out, and I was going to enjoy myself—my way.

  * * *

  “Okay, so you’re telling me you got mad because he asked you to lay out some clothes for him after you’d just had the most erotic sex of your life… an encounter where he was everything you’d ever dreamed of. Is that correct?” Rae asked as we sat in a booth in Stan’s bar at the Kingsley Hotel.

  “Pretty much,” I nodded before taking a long sip of my long island iced tea. I was ready to get hammered, so I’d selected the one drink I knew would get the job done.

  “Well hell, I don’t blame the poor guy. I’d lose my shit with you too.”

  “Wait, what? Why?”

  “Clarisse, you’ve been gushing over how much you want to be someone’s submissive, how you want to surrender to someone, and the first time he tells you to do something for him, you dig your heels in and treat him like he’s the one at fault. How much effort do you think it took for him to be bossy with you when he already knew how headstrong you are, to begin with? Honestly. girlfriend, you betrayed him.”

  “I did no such thing, I simply—”

  “Stop right there. You’ve been claiming this is what you want all along. I even reminded you that playing the part of a full-time submissive involved servitude. He trusted you to be who you said you were. Instead of rewarding him for giving you what you claimed to want, you bit his head off. You’re lucky he left the door open for you to call him in a few days. You were rude, disrespectful, and dishonest.”

  I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. What was it with everyone? It was like everything was backward. Two of the people who I would have said knew me best yesterday were like strangers. They had no idea who I was at all.

  “Some friend you are,” I hissed as I stood and pulled a few bills out of my wallet as a tip for the cocktail waitress. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side. Apparently, Wheezy is the only good company I’ll find tonight.”

  “Run from the truth if you like, Clarisse. Just like Wyatt, I’ll be here when you get your head on straight,” she said, calmly stirring her olives around in her martini. “Be safe getting home.”

  I gave her a dirty look before turning on my heel and storming out of the bar. Everyone could kiss my ass. I would go find the people I truly belonged with. Clearly, my friends didn’t really understand. I was going to expand my social circle, and I was only going to do it with like-minded people.

  Once I got home, I did a Google search for all the kink and fetish clubs in a twenty-mile radius. As I expected, there were more than I could count on two hands. I was intrigued by one called Ropes and Roses. The pictures of the interior were lush and seductive—red walls and furniture with black accents and low lighting. It looked like a wicked cigar lounge but with some interesting equipment.

  I took note of their upcoming events which included an orientation for newcomers. All guests had to pass the approval before being granted permission to enter the club at large. The next orientation was on Friday, so I immediately emailed an RSVP to the admissions coordinator listed on the site. It was Sunday, so I had almost a whole week to wait. I couldn’t contain the squeal that burst from me as I spun around in my desk chair with glee. I was finally taking a serious step on the path I truly wanted to go down.

  * * *

  When Friday finally came, I was up at the crack of dawn, vibrating with excitement. I wanted to get a jump on the day, getting my work out of the way so I could spend the afternoon shopping for a new outfit. I knew it was just low-key, casual meeting, but I wanted to make an impression. Though we’d all be newcomers, it didn’t mean everyone was new to the lifestyle. I might even attract someone who had loads of experience on my first visit. Just the idea had me pinging off the walls.

  I was feeling like a million bucks when I walked through the front doors of Ropes and Roses, dressed in a pair of skin-tight, black leather pants, a ribbed, black turtleneck shirt, and stiletto knee-high boots. I’d left my makeup simple, black cat eyeliner, scarlet lips, and a hint of blush to keep me from looking like a vampire.

  In my zeal, I’d arrived early. I was escorted by a striking blonde with ice-blue eyes and a severe ponytail to a small conference room with a simple, long mahogany table and black leather swivel chairs. Two men seated at the head of the table both looked up from their quiet conversation when I entered. They both stood, the shorter one with long brown hair and barrel chest waving a hand toward the seats.

  “Please take a seat anywhere. We’re expecting about ten more guests, so we’ll get started as soon as they arrive. I’m Roger, by the way. I’m the club’s official greeter and newcomer advisor. If you ever have any questions, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

  I smiled widely, happy to receive such a warm welcome.

  “I’m Clarisse. I’m afraid I’m a little out of my depth so far being completely new to the scene, so don’t be surprised if I become your new best friend,” I said with a slight titter. My nerves were going haywire but in a good way. My enthusiasm helped me shove the unpleasant memories of the prior weekend and my disagreements with Wyatt and Rae far to the back of my mind.

  “I’m Ezekiel,” Roger’s cohort said in a voice with the richest timbre I’d ever heard. My eyes drifted upward, following the long, muscled lines of his athletic build, his bare arms peeking from a smart vest that looked like it belonged paired with a tailored suit. His biceps seemed like they were sculpted from onyx marble, the dark skin shimmering with a luster I’d never seen before. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d used one of those glittery moisturizers most strippers used. My breath caught in my throat when I finally reached his face. He had a shaved head, intense dark eyes, and a full, luscious mouth. My hands felt clammy as my pulse quickened. He was attractive but formidable. He seemed completely untouchable. I wondered what his role was in this meeting. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “I’m the unofficial greeter here,” he said with a chuckle. “Mostly, I serve as a mentor to people new to the lifestyle, so it’s more likely I’ll be the one who is your new best friend.”

  I swallowed hard when he ended his sentence with a cute little wink, the first indication he had anything other than an intense, demanding side. This was the kind of man I’d been looking for. Wyatt was right, he’d never be this kind of man. I felt an ache in my heart at the thought but quickly stifled it as I took my seat. Thinking about my feelings for Wyatt wouldn’t get me what I wanted. I missed him far more than I wanted to admit, but I was here to take a step forward, and thinking about my relationship with him was an obstacle to that path.

  “Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ezekiel. Can I call you Zeke?” I said with my usual mischievousness.

  “No,” he said firmly, his prior hint of personality falling away as he looked less than amused. “In fact, you should always address me as Ezekiel. If we get to a certain point, I may instruct you to call me Sir, but until then, and only then, you should call me by my name.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to make a smartass remark and give him a mocking salute, but I knew that wouldn’t go over as intended. The last thing I wanted to do was put another off foot forward. To be safe, I gave a small smile and nod, knitting my fingers together in my lap. I was the perfec
t picture of quiet primness as we waited for the other visitors to be escorted in one by one.

  Roger went over the rules of the club, then spent a lot of time giving us the safe, sane, and consensual lecture. With a pointed look at each one of us, he clearly spelled out that all guests were entitled to say no to anyone for any reason, and we must immediately respect it and move on. Conversely, a positive response was not necessarily a blanket acceptance of anything anyone else wanted to do. Any complaints should immediately be addressed to the manager on duty, and if required, security would be involved. I felt immediately reassured I’d be in good hands if I found someone willing to teach me the ropes—no pun intended.

  Directly after the meeting, we were encouraged to socialize. Starla, the hostess who had escorted me in, wheeled in a cart with soft drinks and various snacks and finger sandwiches. I hung back to observe everyone, looking to see who caught my interest when I felt a soft touch at my elbow. Surprised someone so imposing could sneak up on me so quietly, I turned to look at Ezekiel who was looking down on me with a closed-lipped smile.

  “I noticed you were very quiet, Clarisse. Did you have any questions? I’m happy to help if you need anything.”

  “I was just trying to absorb everything. I understand all the rules, and I’m glad they’re in place. You guys seem to take this all very seriously.”

  “That’s because it is serious, mentally and physically. Caution must be exercised at all times. I can't impress this upon you enough. I strongly encourage you to take several of our Dominant workshops before you attempt to engage in any kind of play. If you aren’t completely confident in your ability to master someone, disaster is all but assured.”

  “Why would I take a class for Dominants?” I wondered aloud. “I have no interest in submissives, beyond serving someone in that capacity.”

  “Really? I usually pride myself on being able to read people, and you don’t exude a submissive vibe whatsoever. You sat in that chair cool as a cucumber like you’d heard and done it all before.”