by Livia Grant
He had found his outlet in BDSM, in clubs like this, and in women like her.
Caught in his own head, he’d missed most of the discussion between Chase and Emma and Bianca on stage, but everything seemed to be fine. They were all smiling as the wheel clattered to a stop, and he joined them with a grin.
“Bondage,” Chase announced, and Bianca glanced over at him with a hint of trepidation in her expression before she masked it with cocky bravado.
“How are you going to tie me up this time?” she snarked, and he just held out his hand until she took it. Nodding at Chase, he led her from the stage, listening as she huffed behind him. “Not speaking to me now?”
“I’m not a fan of spoilers, girl,” he answered, searching the floor for what stations were open around the club. All of the raised platforms were full, but he found the perfect solution near the wall of implements. Pulling Bianca behind him, he was able to hide his smile and erased it from his face when he stopped her and turned around. “Stay here.”
“Yes’sir,” she answered quick, putting her heels together and her hands behind her back. It was a smart ass move, but the way it lifted her breasts made him appreciate the view. No need to punish her now, what he had in mind would be enough fun.
Without another word, Silas stalked over to the rope station, but Dillon was standing there instead of Owen. The man grinned at him, waiting to speak until he was closer. “Planning to torture your sub some more tonight?”
Silas couldn’t hide his grin, but kept his plans to himself. “We rolled bondage. I could use some silky nylon, and some coconut rope. You or Owen have any?”
Dillon scoffed. “Owen is busy, but of course we do, just let me grab someone to watch the station so I can get it from the stash.” Stepping back a little he looked across the floor to where Bianca was standing with her arms at her sides. “I’ll bring it to you.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Silas nodded and walked back to the girl. She looked well-fucked already. Those dark waves in a mussed shadow around her head, makeup faded, and with her feet planted slightly apart he could see the swollen lips of her pussy between her legs. Hell, he could still taste her on his tongue and it was affecting him. Making him hungry for more — and he could have more, if he watched his time appropriately.
One hour left.
One more hour to make her writhe and scream, before he made her come again and again until the clock ran out.
“We doing this on the floor?” she asked, looking down to drag her manicured toes across the thin carpet.
“No, you just need to stand right there and do everything I tell you to.” He held out a hand. “Give me your wrists.”
Bianca raised them both up, putting them together, and the sheer submission of the gesture had his balls tingling, his cock waking up like a sated beast wondering if it would get another meal. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered in a voice that was like liquid fire down his spine.
Fuck. He should have pursued her way before tonight… but without the promise of a free month she may not have been as adventurous.
Shaking the distracting thoughts from his head, he removed the cuffs from her wrists and let them drop to the floor beside him, rubbing at the pink skin for a moment as he waited for Dillon to arrive. The fact that the master shibarist’s brother was in charge of the station piqued his curiosity, but he had eyes only for the submissive in front of him. Not even interested in searching the club to find out where the dungeon monitor had run off to.
“Are you tying me to that?” Bianca asked, glancing up to the hard point dangling from the ceiling, a sleek, steel hook.
“That was an easy assumption to make. The better question is what am I going to do once I have you tied to it.” He felt his lips curve up in a grin, enjoying the hint of nervous energy he felt from her, but then Dillon arrived with the rope.
“Here you go, enjoy yourselves. If you need anything, just holler.” Handing over the coils of rope, Dillon walked back to the rope station and that left Silas alone with Bianca. Well, surrounded by other kinky partners playing the Roulette game, and an unknown number of voyeurs, but still… she was all his for a little while longer.
“Who owns you tonight?” Silas asked as he dropped a set of rough looking rope to the floor, keeping the remaining smooth blue one in his hands.
“You, Sir,” she answered, watching as he started to weave it confidently around her wrists. After a moment she could see the cuffs he was forming, but he kept going. Weaving the long rope back and forth between each arm, and she noticed how he always made sure his hand was in place to protect her skin as he pulled it through. It was a tiny, wordless sign of respect. A sign of a good Dom. This was what she’d tried to explain to a friend. That even the most fucked up sadists could be gentlemen in their own way, respectful and wonderful doms. Putting on the bondage wasn’t where he wanted to cause pain, and so he protected her, took care of her, and she held her arms out so he could bind her — just so he could hurt her later.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked, a smirk teasing at his own lips.
“No reason.”
A low chuckle escaped him as he finished weaving the intricate rope work between her arms and tied it off. “Raise your arms high and keep them there, with your heels flat on the floor.”
She obeyed, watching as he walked towards the wall of implements. Her muscles tensed, but he pulled a dangling remote from its place high on the wall and then she heard the faint whir of a motor above her. The smooth, steel hook dropped slowly until it was close enough for her fingers to reach out and tap it. It swayed in the air above her as she felt Silas return.
“Perfect,” he mumbled to himself. Stepping close, he grabbed onto her bound wrists to lift her onto her toes so he could slide the hook into the intricate rope work. Then he let her go. “Put your heels down and tell me if it pinches.”
“I’m fine.”
As if he didn’t quite believe her, his pale blues studied her hands, and she moved her fingers back and forth just to prove she wasn’t lying. It seemed to satisfy him, because he bent down and grabbed the rough looking rope from the floor. “Ready to have some more fun, whore?”
Why did that send such a thrill through her?
Bianca nodded, arching as he traced her waist and moved behind her, running that too light touch up her spine before he ripped her head back by her hair. A flare of tingling sparks rushed across her scalp as she hissed between her teeth. “Yes, Sir,” she answered, and he released her.
“Better.” Silas unwound the coil of rope, letting it pool in loops at their feet, and she looked up to the hook to watch as he wove the rough, tan strands into the beautiful blue work of art he’d created between her arms. It was a little mesmerizing, watching the colors play against each other until he knotted the tan and then ran it over the hook as well.
Curiosity got the best of her and she tried to turn to see what he was doing, but a sharp spank on the welts of her ass made her groan. “Ouch,” she growled.
“Oh, did that hurt?” he asked in a mocking tone, and then she heard his soft laugh. “Just wait, girl.”
Nervous energy filled her as she shifted her weight, feeling him draw the rope down, and then he pressed the rough fibers between the cheeks of her ass. Instantly, she tensed, holding her breath as he stepped to her side and threaded the rope through her legs.
Silas crouched down, blond hair and muscular frame eye-level with her pussy. He toyed with her for a moment, fingers playing in the soaking wetness still lingering from their play in the locker room, and she writhed. Somehow still needy, and craving more, but then he replaced all the gentle strokes with the scrape of the rope.
“Ah!” she cried out as he stood, pulling the devious loop tight until he was standing upright again and staring down into her eyes.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice suddenly darker, and she parted her lips. Placing the rough rope between her teeth, he held it taut. “Bite down, and do not let go. If you do,
I’ll make this harder for you.”
Bianca felt the harsh edges digging into the corners of her mouth as he began to wind the rope around her waist, and her mind was spinning with possibilities. Was he going to suspend her with the rope rubbing against all her most sensitive parts?
There was a hint of panic as he formed whatever he needed to around her waist, and then she felt him pull up on the rope between her legs, increasing the strain until her sore ass and clit argued. “Open.”
As soon as she released the rope he drew the slack around her waist, keeping it tight with one hand until she felt the rough texture digging in at her waist and lower. After a few adjustments, he stepped back, and she watched the smile transform his face.
Handsome, and unapologetically sadistic.
Bianca quickly noticed that if she lifted her heels just a little then the pressure on her sensitive spots eased, and she felt confident she could handle this.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she purred, and he stepped forward and kissed her. It was devastating, the perfect mix of violent and sensual, walking a line so fine that most wouldn’t see the differences. His tongue teased hers, his teeth captured her lip in sharp bites that made her whimper, but then he’d take her mouth again until she was moaning. In the daze of the kiss she almost missed his hands wrapping around her bound wrists, but when he lifted them up and off the hook she was left confused and panting.
Silas took a half-step back, just enough room between them for her to hear the echo of her own heavy breathing in his. Tilting his head, his hands roamed lower, positioning the rope fully between her labia, pressing it harder into her clit for a moment as he rubbed the rough fibers into her sensitive skin. “How does that feel?”
“Fantastic,” she answered through clenched teeth, wanting to feel strong at least once tonight, because Silas had brought her over the brink too many times already — but, bondage? She could handle bondage.
“I’m so glad.” His words had a snappy comeback at the top of her tongue, but then he leaned forward and sucked her nipple into his mouth, summoning a groan just before he bit down.
Bianca yelped and her arms jerked downward to shield herself, but the rope between her thighs pulled sharply, dragging mercilessly over her clit, her pussy, and her ass in one burning slide. “FUCK!” she cried, raising her arms fast, which only let the rough fibers reverse their path until she was dancing on her toes trying to escape it.
“Perfect.” Silas was grinning that wolf’s smile once more, all bared teeth and vicious intent.
Predicament bondage. It was mother fucking predicament bondage. Except she was upright instead of on the floor, and he was using a damn hard point as a pseudo-pulley to put her in control of just how hard the rope pulled through her delicate folds and across her already sore ass. He was a sadist through and through, and the breathless tension in her body was pinging between outright arousal and serious concern on just how much damage she’d do to herself before the scene was over.
“Understand the situation?” he asked, and she bit back the series of curse words she wanted to shout.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Then let’s make it a little more challenging.” Silas walked away from her, farther down the wall of implements, and she studied the contraption he’d rigged up using the hard point. Her arms were bound in the soft, blue rope, but the harsh one was strung over the smooth, steel hook and down between her legs. The tie around her waist braced it and provided the counter-pressure, making it very simple. If her arms came down, the painful rope became more taut, but even with her arms fully raised it was already digging uncomfortably into far too sensitive tissue.
Shit. He was good.
As he returned with an armful of… things, she watched his muscles flex and shift as he crouched down to settle them at her feet. No hiding the surprises this time. Those were weights, carabiners, and a short, painful looking leather implement. She was pretty sure it had the term devil in it, and she knew from previous experience that it stung like a bitch.
“Ready?” he asked, already weaving one of the larger, teardrop shaped weights onto a carabiner. Silas didn’t wait for her answer as he stood and attached the weight to one of the weaves of rope between her arms.
“I can handle this,” she said, staring up into his eyes as he smirked.
“I know, I just want to see how much you can handle.” Reaching forward, he stroked her cheek. “Want some more?”
Clenching her jaw, Bianca didn’t answer, but he added another weight to the ropes anyway, and then he touched her hip and pushed her back a half step. It brought her arms just in front of her body, and intensified the weight drawing her wrists downward. Triceps and biceps burning, Bianca drew her arms higher to ease the strain between her thighs, and her fingers brushed the hook. Relief flooded her as she wrapped her index fingers around the smooth steel, giving her arms the rest she needed.
“Take your hands off the hook, or I’ll raise it up so you can’t reach it.” Silas tilted his head when she stared at him. “Of course, your feet won’t be as steady that way, and you’ll be fighting your calf muscles as well as your arms. Your choice.”
With a deep breath, Bianca let go of the hook and immediately felt the weights’ effect on her arms. She buckled her elbows, letting her arms strain in a different way, but it was too tempting to bring her hands closer so she quickly straightened them.
“What is the correct response, whore?” he asked, and then one of his large hands reached up to pull on her wrists, drawing them down until the rope was painfully sharp against her clit.
“YES, SIR!” she shouted, gasping when he released her and she was able to force her arms skyward again. But, shit, her muscles were shaking. When she nudged one of her feet forward to even out the weight distribution, he tapped her foot and shook his head.
“Stay in position.” Crouching he gathered another weight and she whimpered as he stood again to attach it. “Every time you disobey, you get another one.”
Bianca had no idea what each one of the dull, metallic teardrop shapes weighed, but it was enough to have her straining already as she lined her feet up once more. Maybe if he’d done this earlier in the night — before the flogging, the caning, the vicious ass fucking — she would have handled it better, held out longer, but like this? Her body was fighting a losing battle and she knew it.
“Good girl,” Silas cooed, that dark edge to his voice turning the swoon-worthy words to a threat.
A second later her arms slipped and the rope slid like silk over the steel hook above her head, cutting the rough fibers into her cunt, rubbing them along her tender asshole, and a keening whine broke through her clenched teeth as tears sprung to her eyes. Shoulders and arms straining, she forced her arms upward, easing the taut rope, but moving it once more. “Fuck,” she whined.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, stepping closer to stroke his fingers gently over her ribs, down to her waist. The heat from his bare chest was so close she could feel it, easing the chill of the air, but he wasn’t offering comfort.
“Sir…” Bianca tried to twist her arms, to find some position where new and different muscles strained, but it was impossible. He’d angled her body just enough to focus the weights on her arms alone, and there was nowhere to go.
“I think you need another weight.”
“No!”
His pale gaze found hers and he smirked. “Did you tell me no?” The purr in his voice as he leaned closer, licking and nipping at her neck, made her melt, made her joints weak and the rope pull taut again.
“Please?” she begged quietly, but he just chuckled softly against her skin.
“I’ll do two at once. Speed it up.”
Bianca cringed as he bent down and rose with the last two weights on carabiners. She couldn’t help but track his hands up to the ropes around her wrists as he decorated the strands with the dull metal bulbs. For a moment, he braced her arms for her, letting her
muscles relax, and then he stepped back completely and they dropped hard.
Pain sliced through her cunt, her ass, sending her high onto her toes as she cried out and struggled to lift her exhausted arms against the dragging weights. The rope dug in at her waist as well as between her thighs, but she couldn’t focus on the rough texture above her hips — all of the real torment was focused well below.
“I’ve only got one toy left, whore.” Silas had picked up the little leather implement while she’d been struggling and squirming. “Let’s see how long you last.”
Sweat broke out on her skin as her muscles strained to keep her arms aloft, but they were already angled too far for comfort. Every shift of her legs humped her most sensitive parts against the rough rope, sending stinging pain up her spine like jolts of electricity.
The first vicious snap of the leather on her breast brought the name back as she screamed. Devil’s Tongue. Her arms had yanked downwards on instinct, mindlessly bringing her pain as the sting settled, but he lashed her other breast and she choked on the cry. Tears spilled over, running down her cheeks, and she tried to sniff the weakness back inside, tried to lift her limbs back into a position. Anything to make the coarse rope not feel like it was going to split her in two.
“Please, please…” She was pleading, begging, but it was a loud shout from somewhere else that made her lift her head, and Silas stepped closer. Grabbing onto her wrists, he pushed them aloft to ease the strain, and she almost babbled out her thanks when he braced her hip with his other hand, eyes intent on something behind her. “What happened?” Bianca sniffled, wiping her cheeks on her arms as she tried to catch his gaze.
“Someone called Red.” The intensity of his voice distracted her. The whole room had gone quiet except for the dull hum of commotion somewhere behind her and to the right.
“Are they okay?” she asked, but he didn’t answer immediately. Eventually, he released her hip and moved so he could meet her eyes.
