by Vi Keeland
“I guess I wanted your opinion, if you liked the space.”
I walked around the room. “I’m not really sure what a space like this should be like.” I turned to face him. “For some reason I thought this would all happen in your bedroom.”
Jake jerked back in surprise, but quickly recovered. “Oh, well…no. I want to keep this part of my life separate from…whatever happens in my bedroom.” He took a step toward me.
“It’s part of keeping this relationship clear, not muddying the waters. I’d hate for you to get the wrong impression, to feel this was going in a different direction.” He looked around the space.
“Here, what happens here won’t cross over into any other aspect of my life.” He looked back at me, his eyes opaque and unreadable. “Or yours.”
I nodded my head. “That makes sense. And I agree. Did you have any idea what to put in here? I’m not sure if they’re called supplies or instruments or paraphernalia, but do you have any?”
He smiled. “Like I said, this is my first real attempt at this. I have a small collection in the house. There are some things I need moved in here from storage. To be honest, I really wasn’t anticipating finding someone—finding you—quite so quickly.”
Jake had asked that I come back on Sunday afternoon. He wanted a day to get the room ready. So I had Saturday to myself, or so I thought.
Leslie called, looking for details. I’d been purposely evasive about what had been planned with Jake, but since the cat was out of the bag and she knew where I was going, there was no way to keep anything a secret from her now.
We’d met for lunch at a little sushi place close to my apartment. I was still feeling the after effects of my evening with Jake. My body was relaxed, from both the massage and the sex. I’d played the whole thing over in my mind endless times. There were things happening that I didn’t really understand but I chalked that up to the newness—and the unconventionality—of our relationship.
“So, can you tell me anything or did he make you sign a blood oath of secrecy?” We’d just gotten seated and given our order to the smiling waiter when Leslie started in with the questions.
“No blood oath.” I held up my wrists. “No knife cuts, no secret oaths under the dark of the moon.”
Leslie took a sip of her tea. “Okay. Funny. So what did happen? Did he tie you up? Was it fun? Did it hurt?”
I realized I was going to have to rein Leslie in pretty quickly. “Leslie, there’s not that much I’m going to tell you, or can tell you. Sorry if that’s going to hurt your feelings, but this is different…this relationship is different.” I took a drink of my own tea, pungent and aromatic.
“There’s a lot of it I don’t think I want to talk about, yet.” I saw the confusion…and hurt in her eyes.
“You don’t trust me not to tell anyone?” Her voice was full of hurt.
I sighed…I’ve been doing that a lot since I’d started this whole thing. I placed my hand on top of hers. “It’s not that, Leslie. This is complicated and I can’t even explain half the stuff I’m feeling. And it’s only been one evening…it’s only going to get more complex, I think, rather than less.”
She nodded her head. “Okay. Fine. Deny me the whole story.” She leaned close. “But can you give me some juicy detail? Anything? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a date…I could use a little bit excitement, even from someone else’s sex life, you know?”
I laughed. “Alright. Just the parts where we fucked then.” I sat back, enjoying the momentary look of shock on her face. Then she broke into giggles.
After lunch…after recounting what I could of my evening with Jake, enough juicy details to make Leslie happy…I went home, did domestic things, tried to read but my mind was distracted. I wondered what Jake was doing, was he working on the room above portico? I tried to imagine him in that huge house all alone. Did he have a housekeeper, a cook? Staff?
Finally I just gave up. This is how you get in trouble with men…you obsess over them. Jake was not someone I wanted to obsess over, not someone I wanted to let occupy my thoughts when I wasn’t with him.
The phone rang late that afternoon. It was Jake.
“Hello, Abby. How are you?”
My heart did that little flip-flop thing; there was no denying his voice did things to me. I brushed it aside and took a deep breath.
“I’m good, Jake. How are you? How’s the room…or is it called something else?”
There was a soft laugh. “Sometimes it’s called a dungeon, but I’m not really comfortable with that word. Plus it’s on the second floor. It’s more of a tower than anything.”
The castle image flashed in my mind again. “I think the tower is better than a dungeon. It sounds a little less damp and dreary, more like princesses and knights in shining armor.”
I heard Jake exhale on the other end of the line. “I want you to come tomorrow for a session.” His voice had changed, had that edge to it; Jake the dominant had taken over the conversation.
“You’ll need to wear clothes that are easy to remove. Nothing fancy. Please be showered, your hair tied back. Eat something before the session. I don’t want you to get hungry if this runs long and I don’t want you to feel faint or weak.”
I closed my eyes. Feel faint? What the heck?
“I know this seems like a set of rules, but I want you to be comfortable and safe. I have no idea where this is going to go. This may sound like over-kill, but I’d rather this be well thought out ahead of time.”
I nodded my head. “I understand. It’s just…well, so clinical.”
There was a beat of silence. “Abby, I need things to be like this…we need things to be like this. Trust me.”
Now it was my turn to be silent. “You’re right. It’s fine. It’s new for me, for both of us.”
“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “It’s all new, Abby. But you’re the one I want to explore this with, and I want to be the one to help you explore your limits. I still think we’re going to be good for each other. We just need to go slow, keep talking and relax.”
I smiled. “I know. It’s all good.”
We ended the call. I sat down on the couch, going over our conversation, images of last night rising up in my mind; Jake’s hands on my body, the first glimpse of his cock as he’d unbuttoned his jeans, displaying himself for me.
I was getting all hot and bothered, remembering every detail. This is no good.
I settled back, looking out the windows on the skyline of Houston. Something poked me in the thigh. Reaching down, I fished a book out of the couch; 50 Shades.
“I really need to put you on a bookshelf, you know?” The book didn’t reply, but my cat did, jumping up, seeking attention. I scratched his head, thinking about castles and princesses in distress and knights in shining armor coming to the rescue.
But in this case, I had the nagging sense I wasn’t the one needing rescue.
“We’ll need a safe word. You know what a safe word is?”
We were in the tower room, now transformed into Jake’s version of a session room. There was a large bed at one end of the room, set away from one wall, a lovely Jacobean monstrosity, carved and ancient looking, currently sporting a fitted black sheet, but no pillows. There was a large cabinet, which matched the bed, set between two windows, which matched the bed. The heavy deep garnet-colored curtains were pulled shut. The room was lit by fixtures set between the windows, along with some indirect lighting in the ceiling. The overall effect really was of a tower room in a castle. And it’s the only room so far that’s actually square.
True to his word, this whole event was removed from his “other” life. I’d been instructed to park beneath the portico again, but today Jake had greeted me from the other side of the drive, through a large door set beneath the tower room. He’d taken me up a narrow stair to a separate entrance from the big door we’d used on Friday. He pointed out a small bathroom I could use, complete with a robe I could wear.
I n
odded my head. “Yes. If I feel uncomfortable or…unsafe, I say that word. I don’t say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or anything else. I say whatever word we’ve decided on.” My mind kept getting hung up on the word unsafe.
He smiled. “Yes. The word is usually something totally unrelated to anything we’re doing, so there’s no confusion. Your safe word is ‘pineapple’.
Despite the seriousness of his tone, I giggled. Jake lifted an eyebrow at me.
“It’s a good safe word. I’m allergic to pineapple.”
He smiled. “Okay. Just remember it.” The smile faded and he grew serious.
“Are you ready to start, Abby? From this point on, you don’t ask questions. We…I don’t stop, unless you use the safe word.” His eyes locked with mine. “Do you understand?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
With a detached sense of calm, I began following Jake’s directions. I’d arrived in jeans and a t-shirt, for a time feeling woefully underdress for a date. But this isn’t a date, remember that.
In the bathroom, I removed my shirt and bra, sliding my jeans off, hanging them on hooks in the bathroom. I’d left my panties at home, after a long debate, finally deciding they’d just be something I’d probably lose. I slipped into the robe, feeling an odd sort of comfort in the familiar garment.
Jake was dressed in just a pair of loose gray cotton sweats, again hanging low on his narrow hips, clearly outlining the taut curves of his ass. Those sweats left little to the imagination and I wondered how I was supposed to go through a session of any kind, knowing what he possessed, having it covered by only a thin layer of cotton.
Jake had his back to me when I came back to the tower room.
“You can hang the robe on the back of the door,” he said over his shoulder. I slid the robe off my body, hanging it on a hook.
He was standing at the cabinet, the doors now open, the only sounds the soft clink of something metal, the whisper of his bare feet over the rugs. I stood silently, waiting for his next direction.
He turned, saw me, and drew in a sharp breath. His eyes flicked over my body, then traveled up to meet mine. For an instant, that look I’d come to recognize as lust was there, unguarded and intense. It made my heart thump and my skin flush, set off a low jolt deep inside me.
And there was something else, that unreadable look I’d seen before, fleeting, something he fought hard now to get under control. In that brief instant, I got a glimpse somewhere deep inside Jake, an instant of naked, vulnerable emotion; a scary emotion. It was something almost like love. You’re projecting, girl. Back it up here.
But then he was walking toward me, a pair of silver handcuffs in his hands, long silver chains brushing against his long legs, his eyes hooded, the look gone.
He stopped in front of me. I could smell his scent; clean skin and beneath that, something rich and masculine.
“Come with me.” He walked to the bed, snapping the cuffs to the posts at the foot of the bed, the chains coiled like silver snakes.
“On your back, please.”
I climbed up on the bed. The mattress was on the hard side, but not uncomfortable, the sheet stretched taut, soft and silky on my skin. Must be high thread count. I mentally shook my head at the errant thought.
Jake held up one cuff, the metal catching the light. “One cuff is attached to each corner of the bed. The other end will be attached to your ankles. Your wrists will be held together above your head by a single set of cuffs.” He pulled one cuff toward my foot, the silver chain spiraling out across the sheet, whispers of sound as the links clicked together.
“You will have enough chain to bend your knees a little, but that’s all.”
The cold metal snapped around my left ankle. I flinched. Jake raised his eyes to mine, an unspoken question there. I nodded my head.
“I’m fine.” My heart was fluttering in an unexpected, but not totally unwelcomed, way. I licked my lips. “Go ahead.”
Jake attached the other cuff to my right ankle, had me lay flat on my back and gently raise my arms over my head, fastening the cold metal around each wrist. Somewhere behind me I heard the sound of chain sliding against metal and then my arms were pulled above my head.
I gave an experimental tug against the restraints at my head; I was held fast. My ankle restraints gave me enough freedom to pull my knees up slightly. There was a moment of breathless panic, complete and total; I was alone, naked and chained to a bed in a stranger’s house.
Jake came back into my field of vision, and the panic faded. He stood by the side of the bed, looking down in a rather detached way, I thought. I turned my head; my eyes sliding down his smooth naked chest, past his taut navel, lower still. I saw that not all of him was viewing this in such a dispassionate manner.
There was an unmistakable, and quite arousing, bulge at the apex of his thighs, his growing erection pushing easily against the thin material of his sweats, lifting the fabric out in front of his body. I wondered how I was going to handle whatever he was going to do to me while watching his physical reactions. Just seeing his cloth-covered erection had started a tingle in my body; tingle wasn’t the right word. It was an all-out throbbing between my legs.
Jake looked down at me, a hint of smile playing about the corners of his mouth, almost cruel looking. As if reading my mind, he pulled a piece of black silk out of his pocket.
“Lift your head.”
I raised my head from the mattress and with infinite care Jake blindfolded me. I felt his fingers brush my temples as my world went dark. I sensed his body over mine, his heat and scent very close for a moment. There was a brief tug and the blindfold was snugged over my eyes.
“Is that too tight?” His voice was low, not as close as I wanted it to be.
There was a dry clicking in my throat when I tried to talk, so I shook my head.
“Again, safe word?”
“Pineapple.” I managed to croak out the word.
“Good. I’m ready to start.
Time seemed to spin out forever as I lay there, briefly interested in the lights behind my eyes. But my ears quickly became attuned to every sound in the room. It was very quiet, almost too quiet. The panic tried to push its way back; logic said I had not heard the door open or close, so Jake was still in the room. Was he watching me? Was he getting ready to do something?
My breath was coming in short gasps, my heart beating fast. I was on the verge of calling his name when I felt movement and a soft rush of cool air against my skin, sliding down my right side. I turned my head, breathing deeply, sniffing the air, trying to catch Jake’s scent.
There was a brief noise at the foot of the bed and then a subtle pressure on the mattress. The pressure increased; Jake must have climbed on the bed between my feet. My legs tensed; I tried to pull away and move toward him at the same time. I wanted something to happen but I was afraid of what that something might be.
Suddenly there was a light touch along the inside of my inner thigh, along the same area that Jake had touched with his hands before, that same erogenous zone I never knew existed until then. I jerked even though the touch was so soft I thought I might have imagined it. But it returned, this time on the other leg, something brushing against my skin, sending shivers through my body.
It’s a feather. I had the insane urge to call out what I thought it was.
The stroking continued, increasing in intensity and speed, moving higher up my thighs. The muscles in my legs were tensing and relaxing, moving in concert with the stroking of the feather, my hips flexing upward with each stroke. I could feel arousal growing between my legs, a subtle throbbing deep inside.
Suddenly the stroking stopped. My legs kept moving for a moment, seeking contact with something I couldn’t see. There was a long pause, then movement, a shifting of weight between my legs and the right side of the mattress depressed slightly.
A slight breeze floated over my skin and then there were quick flicks of something across the nipple of one breast. I yelped in
surprise as I felt that nipple contract and harden, immediately sensitive. The flicking then moved to the other nipple, with the same result. I could feel Jake’s warm breath on my arms as he moved between my breasts for several minutes, teasing each nipple repeatedly.
And then it stopped.
I held my breath, waiting, trying to imagine where he’d touch me again. I felt warmth on my breasts and then Jake’s lips were on my nipple, the flick of the feather replaced by the flick of his warm tongue. I cried out, lifting my head from the mattress, straining against my chains as he circled my hard nipple with his tongue.
He moved to the other nipple and I felt a wave of warmth flood through me, a curious feeling of tensing up and letting go at the same time.
This particular delicious torture went on for many minutes as he moved between my nipples, never doing more than flicking his tongue across them. I was pulling against my chains now in earnest, arching my back, seeking more contact with his mouth.
And then he was gone.
I cried out in despair, my body thrumming, suspended, aching for more. The cool air on my wet nipples made them contract painfully and I was helpless to keep quiet, driven by desire to speak.
“Please don’t stop. Jake, please…”
I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath, but I couldn’t be sure. It was a long time before I felt any movement on the bed, just a subtle shifting of weight.
When the feather finally came back it moved across my upper thighs, lightly stroking from hip to hip. It circled down between my legs, brushing the crease along my inner thigh, sliding dangerously close to my clit and then skittering away. It reappeared where it started, repeating this path, over and over.
My hips were writhing on the bed now, rising up, playing tag with the feather. It circled back between my legs once again, but this time it stayed, tracing the outer edges of my pussy, flicking over my clit.
I was moaning now, my body craving more contact. The feather continued for a moment, flicking back and forth, tickling and teasing.
