by Kira Barker
“You mean like the difference between stroking my cheek while I suck you off compared to grabbing my hair while you fuck my mouth?” I replied succinctly.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Simon agreed, sharing another, this time awkward, smile with me. “And for the record, of course I would have loved to do that. That, and a whole lot more, even if it had meant that I wouldn’t have come at all that night. In that, I have to agree with Jack. That evening was meant for you, and you had a right to be selfish.”
“Did that idiot really relay our talk back to you verbatim?” Now I was definitely getting pissed.
Simon just gave a noncommittal grunt.
“I think I got the abridged version, but it was a good one.”
Silence fell as I tried to make up my mind what to say. Eventually, I settled on a loud sigh.
“Okay, next time I’ll speak up. But you can’t hold this against me.”
“I don’t,” Simon interjected before I could go on.
I looked away, feeling my cheeks redden—again—at the memory of that night.
“It was so much to deal with. And you were there when I really needed you. And then I needed to calm down and be on my own, and you gave me exactly the kind of space I needed. And a few minutes later when it was levity and just feeling back to normal, you gave me that, too. I mean, just thinking back about what an emotional roller coaster that was for me is exhausting. I really felt okay when we went to bed. It was just, right in the middle of it, from one moment to the next, I fell right back into where… Shit, I don’t even know how to describe it now, and I’ve had several days to dwell on it,” I complained.
“Where you really wanted to be used?” Simon suggested, his voice a little teasing. Then, he winced. “And that never sounds exactly how it’s meant to be.”
“Oh, I think it was received as intended,” I said, incapable of not grinning suggestively at him. “Seriously, if we have to keep our conversations politically correct, we’ll never get anywhere.”
“It’s all bullshit, anyway,” Simon griped, then shook his head when I eyed him askance. “An argument I had with some imbecile online this week. Don’t ask me why I bother. I know that it’s impossible to win. You know, with my testicles pretty much breeding the evil of the world.”
That was too good not to ask. “Why, what did you quarrel about?”
“I don’t even remember,” he said, but from the way his jaws snapped together and he was obviously gnashing his teeth, I knew he was lying. “It was a moot point, anyway. Fact is, we need to be open and honest about things. I distinctly remember that we already had that talk.”
“I know,” I agreed with him, but not without hesitation. “It sounded so much easier the first time around, though, you know? Admitting that I get a kick out of what we do up here is one thing. But what happened last weekend, it kind of scared me.”
Instead of answering, Simon reached out, lightly touching and stroking my thigh just above the knee.
“I know. Trust me, I know. And one thing I can tell you already, it’s going to get worse—better—if we keep exploring along these lines. I promise you that I’ll always be there if you need me, in whatever fashion. And I’ll never put my own needs above yours. Never.”
“Okay,” I said, hesitating a little. “Can’t say I’m not intrigued after… that. It’s just—“
“Scary?” Simon offered.
“Quite,” I admitted, then grinned. “But, seriously, that was something else. Sure, we’ve done a few things already that blew my mind, starting right at our very first threesome, but I didn’t think that you could literally pull me under like that in a scene.”
His lips curled up while his eyes never left mine.
“You see, I find myself kind of in a dilemma here. On the one hand, I’m by far not yet done beating myself up over what happened and how I let you slip away, and I know that we should go slow now, proceed with caution, build a stronger base, weed out all the little problems that might become issues along the way—“
“But that sounds as boring to you as it does to me,” I finished his sentence.
His answering smile was a somewhat dark one.
“It kind of does. My problem is that, although I know I should not want to push you, I really do. Not just because I’m an egomaniacal asshole, but because I’m convinced that you can take it. That it would be a rush for both of us, and we’d come out of it all stronger, and a lot closer. And likely exhausted and satisfied and grinning stupidly at each other.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad from where I’m sitting,” I helpfully supplied.
Simon snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Because I’m predictable as hell when you dangle something juicy in front of me?”
Probably one of the worst lines ever spoken, made even worse when I raised my brows at him suggestively, and the loud laugh I got in return was so worth feeling absolutely ridiculous.
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” he replied. “Can I go on being serious now, or do you want to continue goofing off?”
“No, please, by all means, be serious. One of us has to start or we’ll never get to anywhere except, you know, talking.”
Shaking his head, he clearly tried to rein in his mirth.
“Okay, I’ll try, but no guarantees. But I am starting to regret letting you mouth off. We would have been done with this hours ago if you’d just shut up and let me talk.”
“Oh, must be serious if you exaggerate like that. Doesn’t that physically hurt you or something?” I kept on joking.
Simon heaved a theatrical sigh, but mostly ignored my comeback.
“Until we’ve started this between us, I never thought I’d say something like this. Sure, what Beth and I had went beyond what I had with all of my subs, but those were two very intense years, and I doubt she could have made me want to do half the things I begged of her if things had been any different. But for taking up the whip myself, I always felt the most comfortable in physically intense scenes that were somewhat lighter on the mental side. I had a couple of subs who really were into the same things, a few who quit after a while because they wanted something different, but I was okay with that. It was always a playroom-only thing. We’d meet, we’d play, we’d check in with each other later to make sure everything was okay, but that was it.” He paused, a sardonic smile coming to his face. “I got some flak from my local community for that, too, if you want to know. Because, you know, the people who shout the loudest for acceptance are the first to turn on their own and try to put them into boxes.”
“Because you weren’t taking being a Dom seriously enough?” I asked.
He grimaced. “Actually, yeah. Being just a ‘player,’ in the sense of just looking for hookups that don’t go beyond just playing together, is one of the grave no-gos for some of the ‘real’ honchos.” He even made air quotes with his fingers, as if I could have missed them.
“Seriously? And what about everyone who’s just starting out, or who just got out of another relationship and is looking for something in between, or not yet that serious? Don’t tell me they actually expect some kind of months-long courtship ritual before anyone puts even a toe into a playroom?”
My surprise evened out the tension in his shoulders that had built with his admission.
“Some do, although I expect that the situations you mentioned get a pass. But I was always very honest about my intentions, and that didn’t sit too well with some people.”
I opened my mouth, ready to reply, but then thought better of it. Regarding him levelly for a few seconds, I tried to gauge his reaction.
“So, the fact that you brought me to that party was meant as a red flag for some? As in, you were pretty much flaunting me and Jack in front of some people? As in, look, I’m now going steady with both of them and we even have this incredibly well-balanced thing going where I am clearly not just some adrenaline junkie you like to flog when you get bored, or something?”
; Simon flashed me his teeth in something that wasn’t exactly a smile.
“That thought might have crossed my mind, yeah.”
“Huh,” I chuffed, then couldn’t hold back a low chuckle. “And? Did it work?”
He shrugged, but his indifference looked very unconvincing.
“If what I did didn’t sell it to them, your reaction certainly was a home run. Not that I gave a shit about that anymore at that time, but, you know, in hindsight it is oddly satisfying. And it was very educational about how much I still haven’t moved on from letting anyone drag me into petty games, but that’s an issue for another day.”
I had the feeling that he was hiding more with that admission than actually saying.
“Meaning?”
Simon only hesitated for a moment.
“I don’t know whether it’s the fact that I know you so much better than any of my previous subs, or you’re a lot more to me than that. Or maybe we match better. Or I’m getting old and lonely and grasping for straws. Or, even worse, I’m getting mature enough to feel like I need to grow and nurture desires rather than just satisfy them. But, whatever it is, pretty much since the moment I realized that I can take you a lot further on a mental level in a scene than I thought at first, I want to do that. And that has never happened before.” He paused there, waiting for my reaction, but when I only left it at a smile, he resumed. “I know how this sounds. First I blather about how I don’t want to push you too far, and then I say exactly the opposite. It’s about hitting that balance between the extremes—push you just enough, but not too far. I think the real reason why you freaked before was that it was that wrong balance, and it was outside of the somewhat more controlled boundaries of a scene. Now we know what didn’t work. So, if you want to, we can try doing what actually might do the trick.”
I thought about what to reply, but, really, it wasn’t like I was going to say no to anything that wasn’t going strictly against my hard limits.
“You’re so cute when you ramble,” I replied, fully knowing that teasing him now would likely bite me in the ass later. But Simon took it with a grain of salt, snorting as he looked away before he caught my gaze again.
“Then maybe I should put action to words to shut us both up.”
“Sounds like an idea,” I agreed, idly pushing the robe off my shoulders. Watching him watch me undress was strangely arousing, particularly considering how out of place the moment seemed here. “So what exactly do you have in mind?”
“Despite what Jack might think, I guess it goes without saying that the scene at the party was pretty intense, even if I barely got to use anything from my toy bag on you?”
“Oh, forget what Jack says,” I huffed. “He’s jealous, that’s what he is. Because this, here, between us, is the one thing he can never give me.” Uttering those words made me realize something else, and I didn’t like how it left a somewhat bad taste in my mouth. “Is that your main motivation for why you want to step up the game on a not just physical level? Because you know that you don’t have any competition there?”
Simon looked back at me without batting an eyelash, the lack of emotion in itself a little unsettling.
“I can see how you’d jump to that conclusion, but it’s not my main motivation. The thought has occurred to me, and, honestly, I wouldn’t have brought it up if it was what makes me want to do this. We already have enough issues without adding to them. No, it’s simply that I’ve not wanted more control with anyone before, wanted to really screw with your mind and emotions. I am aware that this can go horribly wrong if I fuck things up, and maybe that kind of responsibility was something I didn’t want on my shoulders before. Maybe, in a way, having Jack as an additional pillar of support helps. I really can’t say. The decision is up to you. If you’re not sure about my intentions, or whether you want to give me that much power over you, then we’ll just not go there.”
“No, no, I was just wondering,” I offered, probably a little too eager to agree, but after that last scene I couldn’t help but hunger for more. In a way, Simon’s admission that Jack was our emotional safety net assured me just a little more. Now the only thing left to hope was that Jack would realize that and not use it against us. And only time would tell how that would work out.
“Let’s do this,” I said, trying to push away the lingering resentment toward my closest friend that both guys apparently thought I’d done away with already. “We’re just burning daylight.”
Chapter 11
I breathed in deeply as I tried to rein in my increasing pulse. So, yeah, this was happening. Finally. Only now that I stood in the middle of the room, the air warm around me, sunshine flooding the open space through the windows in the roof, my stomach was roiling with excitement.
Watching Simon get the rope from the supply cabinet shouldn’t have been enough to leave me drenched, but the familiar tension in pretty much the entire lower half of my body let me know that, yes, I was more than ready to go. It was still baffling to me on some level that the idea alone of being tied up was enough to make me horny as hell. And contrary to last week, at the party, where I’d been anxious for so many reasons—Jack, the people watching us, what anyone might think—I could relax. Mentally. Not too much, because I counted on Simon shoving me into some kind of predicament rather quickly, but that was part of the fun. Now it was just him and me, and the realization of how much I had missed this.
He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth as he returned, dropping what looked like the better part of the hemp rope supply on the floor next to me.
“Spread your arms to the side.”
No “please,” no sharp bark, just a calmly voiced order, sexy as hell in itself. Part of me wanted to resist—it was too much fun when he got a little rough with me not to consider provoking Simon—but I decided to play along, for now. Not that he looked like he would leave me much of a choice, but I was fully okay with that.
“Are you going to tell me what you have in store for me?” I asked as I complied, trying to hold still as he started winding rope around my torso—doubled up, back and forth through lark’s heads, until two thick bands of rope pressed into me above and below my breasts.
“Nope,” Simon replied as he started fiddling with yet more rope at my back, winding some across my shoulders before he pulled my arms back and started restraining them to the harness he was creating. It was a little strange and uncomfortable to stand there, half-bound and waiting for what he’d do to me next, but I also found it kind of relaxing. The calm before the storm, if our previous sessions had taught me anything.
“Nothing at all? Even if I ask nicely?”
He laughed softly as he slung yet more rope around my middle, cinching the narrowest part of my waist tight before tying my wrists to that rope in the small of my back with snug rope manacles.
“You’ve never wanted to know anything before, so why should I make a habit of explaining myself to you now?”
His tone was teasing, but this sounded awfully like a setup.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe you want me to get more involved?”
His answering laugh—not a nice laugh, I might add—made things all over my body tighten, and not just because I couldn’t exactly move my arms anymore. Still standing behind me, he wrapped his fingers around my upper arms and pulled me back against his chest, which put my bound hands directly at crotch level. But that didn’t seem his main focus as he leaned in, his lips hot and hungry as he kissed the side of my neck.
“Right now, I don’t give a shit about what you want,” he whispered, his fingers tightening on my arms. “It’s not like you can deny me anything.”
One hand let go and reached for my breast, strong fingers pinching my nipple playfully. I moaned, trying to push my chest into his hand, but his fingers disappeared before I even got a good squeeze out of it.
Guiding me backward, he walked me over until I was standing underneath the pul
ley system that ran across the ceiling at the back part of the room. In record time he had the suspension rope tied to the back of the rope harness that spanned my upper torso and pulled it tight, making sure that I couldn’t move away from where I was standing—or sit down. Then he left me to get yet more rope.
“So, doing this standing up is the new thing, eh?” I asked, incapable of holding my trap. Simon didn’t spare me a look as he crouched down and wound another length of rope around my left ankle, and yet more around my right.
“More comfortable for me,” he replied—a rather cryptic comment—then told me to shift my weight onto my left side. Taking the length of rope that was dangling from the manacle on my other ankle, he walked the short distance to the wall, then threaded it through one of the inlets there—and pulled. Grunting, I had to fight for balance as he forced my leg up from the ground, turning my comfortable two-legged stance into a slightly awkward one-legged one. Suddenly it made sense that he’d secured me to the overhead suspension rack first—even should I lose my balance now, I’d simply lean into that rope, which would keep me upright and securely in place.
Simon left me with my leg partly elevated, my heel roughly at knee level of the other leg before he returned to me, and tied the much shorter lead rope of my left ankle to an inlet in the floor, anchoring my leg right there. Another rope followed, this one around the thigh of my elevated leg. I knew I was in trouble when he didn’t just tie that to the harness, but shortened the rope considerably, forcing that leg up and up until I felt a light strain in my hip. The created slack at my ankle was quickly reduced to zero, leaving the heel of my foot at slightly above hip level, my legs spread as far as they would go in that position.
