TangledTruth

by Delphine Dryden

  “You don’t want to admit it, but it’s true,” he went on. “And I don’t understand what the issue is. You have friends in the lifestyle. Not just hobbyists, either. You know the deal. You don’t seem to have a moral objection to it. You’re even agreeing to be photographed for a book about it. It’s obvious you love this, bad experience or not. I can’t figure out why you’re working so hard to fight it, Evie.”

  A look of sheer misery crossed her normally implacable face, and Drew’s heart nearly broke at the obvious pain.

  “Is that the only reason you wanted to go out with me? So you could do that?”

  “The only reason?” Drew shrugged. “No, not the only reason, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about how you’d look that way. All tied up,” he clarified, as his hands wandered from her shoulders and brushed over her breasts on the way down to her waist. “From your neck to your feet, nice and tight.”

  “You said you weren’t in the lifestyle,” she whispered.

  “I’m not. You already know I don’t have to do this to get off. But I sure as hell like it. And I like you. And you seem to like this. So why is it such a problem? Tell me.”

  She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’ve never told anybody about this.”

  “Well,” he said, using a finger on her chin to gently coax her to face him again, “maybe it’s time you did.”

  It was a long, tense moment of silence filled with muddy thoughts and doubts. Drew was on the verge of breaking it when Eva finally spoke, her voice coming out in a shaky little whisper as though she feared being overheard.

  “Tonight. Let’s get through the rest of the shoot, and then I’ll tell you tonight.”

  Chapter Six

  She looked small and forlorn, sitting in the middle of his bed that evening, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a mug of hot chocolate laced with peppermint schnapps. Ready to tell her tale, but not happy to do so.

  They had wrapped up the photo shoot earlier than usual, never having hit that magical workflow Danny and Sheila so often achieved. Eva had been withdrawn, thoughtful and compliant but not animated as they finished the day’s tasks. She hadn’t complained when Drew drove her to his apartment instead of hers, or when he settled her in the bed like the fragile invalid she suddenly seemed.

  Drew perched near the foot of the bed, hoping like hell he had done the right thing in pressuring her to talk about it. She was pale, even more so than usual, and her face was expressionless as she started to speak.

  “It’s not what you’re probably thinking. I wasn’t abused or anything. In fact, the more I think about it, the dumber it seems that it’s even an issue.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me? And then if it seems dumb, we’ll take it from there.”

  She sighed. “Okay. It started in high school. Or the summer after high school. I had been dating the same boy for almost two years. Andy,” she said, and a ghost of a smile whispered across her lips. “I think we both already knew we would go our separate ways once we got to college, but we were friends, we trusted each other. We had fun, and we were trying a lot of new things that summer, going a little crazy.

  “So this particular time, he’d decided to try tying me to the bedposts. I was laughing at first, just going along with it. But once he had me all tied up and started to touch me, I realized I really couldn’t get away. And everything changed.” A shiver passed through her, but it didn’t look like one of cold. Her eyes drifted shut as her story grew more intense.

  “Andy realized something was different too. I was so turned-on, and he barely had to touch me before I came. And even after that I was asking for more. Begging. We sixty-nined and I came again, which had never happened before. Andy started putting a condom on, but he was still kneeling up over my head. I still had my mouth on his— I was still sort of returning the favor…”

  Surprised that she’d stopped her story in the middle of the action, Drew gave her a second before prompting her. “And then?”

  With a deep breath, Eva whispered, “And then my mother walked in.”

  “Oh fuck.” The picture was all too sharp in Drew’s mind. The girl, naked and flushed from her recent debauchery, tied in an X. The boy, his skinny haunches straddling her head, his freshly sheathed cock straining upward while she nuzzled his balls from beneath. There would be no possible way to explain that away. No way to claim it wasn’t exactly what it looked like.

  “Yeah. ‘Oh fuck’ is right. She freaked out. Not only in the way you might think,” Eva explained, the memory of her mortification still marring her features. “I mean, she started screaming and hitting us both. Andy was trying to untie me and still protect me from her, and then she said…” Eva sniffled, and although she looked like she might cry at any moment, no tears fell. She looked too cold for tears; they would surely turn to ice before reaching her cheeks. “Then she said I was a sick pervert just like my father, and that’s why she’d kicked him out, and now I could get out too. And we were all going straight to hell.”

  “Wow.” He thought he should probably say more but couldn’t think of anything appropriate to counter what he’d heard. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I always thought he’d had a drinking problem or something, and that’s why they’d split up. That’s what I’d been led to believe up to that point, anyway. Turns out, not so much.” Eva looked ill, but determined to finish. “I was coming here to college anyway, so Mom packed me off early. Actually, she had me on a plane the next day. She sent all my stuff after me later. I mean all my stuff, everything she had of mine. Baby clothes, pictures. Everything. That was it, as far as she was concerned.”

  “Sweetie, I am so sorry. That’s so… I don’t know what to say.”

  Drew’s own parents were still together after decades, and happily so. They were pretty easygoing and pragmatic, on the whole. He suspected if they knew about his bedroom predilections they might be more concerned about potential liability issues than his immortal soul. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Eva.

  “A few years ago, she called me up to tell me she forgave me. She was going through some counseling program. You notice I didn’t say she apologized or asked me to forgive her for anything. It’s obvious she still thinks I’m a deviant. Like my dad, the famous pervert. Someday I may get up the nerve to ask him what she was talking about.”

  “He never explained? Doesn’t he know why she kicked you out?”

  She shrugged, plucking idly at the comforter, folding the fabric in small pleats between her fingers. “I think she told him she’d caught me doing something nasty with a boy. I gather from some comments he’s made that she’d always had some issues with sex, but I’ve never asked him to elaborate on that. We’re closer than we were when I was growing up, but not quite that close. I mean, who talks about bondage with their dad? He’s remarried, and I like my stepmother. They don’t seem like freaks.”

  “What, no secret sex dungeon in the basement?”

  “Not unless there’s a trick door hidden behind the washing machine.”

  “I think it’s probably behind that treadmill they never use,” Drew suggested.

  “You’ve been in my dad’s basement?”

  “No. But all parents’ basements are pretty much the same.”

  Eva chuckled, a welcome sound. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m letting her control me more now than she did when I lived in her house.”

  “Do you think it’s deviant? In the bad way, I mean? Do you think there’s something wrong with liking bondage?”

  She thought a moment before answering. “In theory, no. I don’t think it’s a ticket to hell, either. My mom got religious in a big way after my dad left, but I was already thirteen by then, so I guess it was too late for her to pull me into all that. Though she certainly tried. Mostly, I don’t think it’s anybody else’s business what two consenting adults do in private.”

  “And you know plenty of people who would be thrilled to tie you up.”


  “It’s true,” she admitted. “I admit that I’m drawn to people who are in the lifestyle. I think it’s because that way I can get close to it, see it, without risking myself. It’s the vicarious experience.”

  Drew was surprised she was so candid, and so self-aware. “So why not just do it?”

  Eva met his eyes bravely. She seemed more relaxed, more open than she had since he’d met her. “Because every time I’ve tried, it takes me right back to that moment. There’s nothing less sexy than the memory of your mother screaming, slapping you, and telling you that you’re a pervert who’s going to hell. All while you’re naked, can’t move, and your boyfriend’s penis is smacking you in the face.”

  It was all Drew could do not to laugh. The image was so awful but at the same time, so absurd. “Says you. I bet there are people who pay good money to get exactly that experience. Ow!”

  She had picked up one of the pillows and whacked him with it. And she was smiling, which Drew took as a good sign. The relief was palpable.

  “I don’t even know if it’s actually what I want,” she went on, “or if I’ve spent so many years wondering about it, wondering what if, that I’ve psyched myself into believing that.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Drew tossed the pillow back to the head of the bed with an easy overhand lob, then reached to the corner of the bed and pulled back the comforter and sheets to reveal a second fitted sheet and the knotted intersection of two thin ropes. A binding point. A series of similar ropes provided sturdy attachment locations at all four corners. Handy, since he didn’t have a bed with posters suitable for use in tethering a willing partner.

  Eva looked puzzled for a second before the light dawned. Then she turned a suspicious, but nonetheless curious, glance toward Drew. “But you’re not in that lifestyle, you say.”

  He shrugged and grinned. “I’m the bondage Boy Scout, remember? It’s important to be prepared.”

  “Uh huh. I should be angry with you for lying to me.”

  “Lying? Not exactly. I told you I like it but I don’t require it to get off. Hell, I’ll do you right now, no strings or ropes attached.”

  “But you prefer it. The ropes.”

  “Sometimes,” Drew offered. “With some people more than others.”

  “With me?”

  He sighed, a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh yeah. I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you.”

  She considered that, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. Then she said the three sweetest words Drew could ever remember hearing.

  “Let’s try it.”

  * * * * *

  Distraction, Drew reasoned, was the key to success in this endeavor. He also reasoned that working up to full restraint slowly was probably the smartest plan, but then lust threw reason out the window. Drew realized he might only get one shot at this and was determined to make the most of it. Besides, he had never been one for half measures.

  Unable to choose between the swift efficiency of a simple tie-down and the chance to try something more decorative but time-consuming, Drew decided to do a bit of both.

  “We’ll start,” he explained, “with the rope cage.”

  He was already running the chosen rope through his fingers, shaking out the loops. It was plain hemp, nothing fancy. The design of the binding would provide all the visual interest. He also knew he didn’t have enough black rope on hand to do what he had in mind—most of his stuff was in its storage bag at Danny and Sheila’s, awaiting the next photo shoot.

  “Doesn’t this one have a Japanese name?”

  “Not the version I’m doing. But it’s an adaptation of a traditional karada, a body bind. Okay, stand right here. And take all your clothes off.”

  Eva lifted her eyebrows. “That’s…abrupt.”

  Drew laughed. “Sorry, sorry. But seriously. This is going to take some time. If I start romancing you right now, we’ll get sidetracked and this probably won’t happen at all. Wow, I can see why a lot of guys who do this are Dominants. That probably makes this part a lot easier.”

  “Easier how?” She was shaking her head, but shucking her jeans off all the same.

  “If I were a Dom and you were my submissive, I’d tell you to strip and you’d do it.”

  Despite his intentions, he couldn’t resist helping with the bra, and taking more time with the job than was probably required. But once Eva stood, naked and stunning at the foot of his bed, Drew found himself itching to start the rope work.

  Around the back of her neck first, the center of the bight marking the perfect bisection of the coarse rope’s length. Then the first knot, a series of intertwined loops that pulled tightly together just below Eva’s sternum. While he worked, he could ignore that Eva’s nipples were responding—either to the cool air or to the situation—but when he took a step back to assess the knot’s symmetry, he couldn’t help leaning right back in and suckling one of the tight, rosy buds. Eva sighed and cupped the back of his head, but when she tried to coax him up for a kiss, Drew smiled and resumed his brisk but careful work with the rope.

  Another knot over the belly, and his fingers brushed the soft skin there in growing anticipation. The contrast between the rough, prickly rope and Eva’s silky texture was enough to bring Drew’s cock to attention. He had to get on his knees to accomplish the next knot, and he groaned as the movement caused even more constriction in his jeans.

  “Are you all right?” murmured Eva.

  He looked up to see her smirking at him. Just a tiny bit. Evil as well as beautiful.

  “I’ll make it. Lift your foot up.” He tapped on the foot in question, and she obligingly raised first that one and then the other so he could slide the rope beneath. He wound her feet together, finishing with a knot at the ankles, then moved to the rear and began the journey back up her body, weaving the rope from front to back and securing it at each intersection. At calf and knees—her startled gasp when he licked the back of one knee afforded Drew a smirk of his own—and then at the waist. When he passed the rope forward to craft the final part of the harness around her breasts, he tweaked one of her nipples and was delighted to realize it was crinkled and taut.

  Her breathing was different too. Slower, shakier. Her fingers trailed over the rope where it crossed her hips, stroking at the fibers of the hemp over and over.

  “Eva?”

  “Mmm?”

  Drew secured the rope, letting the loose ends fall down her back, and gently pivoted her to face him. Though she swayed a little on her bound feet, she didn’t seem distressed at the hindered mobility.

  Far from it.

  “Oh, honey, you’re doing it again.” Drew could hardly restrain his glee. “Are you with me?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Her eyes held the same sleepy lust Drew recalled from the photo shoot, and her fingers kept up their rhythmic stroking over the ropes.

  “I should have asked you this before, but what are you going to tell me if you want me to stop? Do you want a safe word, or is ‘stop’ enough?”

  After a blurry moment, Eva blinked and nodded. “Basket case.”

  “Not at all. I think you’re really brave to—”

  “No, no,” she said, with a brief return of the little smirk. “That’s my safe word. Basket case.”

  “Oh!”

  “But thank you.”

  “No, thank you. For doing this. God, you’re beautiful like this.”

  He took a long pause, just admiring her body, the smooth curves that the rope emphasized so well. More petite than the girls he usually dated, Eva in her clothes looked almost too thin for his taste. Out of them, and with the snug rope plumping her flesh between its diamond panes, she looked lush. Almost voluptuous.

  She also looked a little worried, though. It was nerves, he realized. The smirk was her nervous smile, and now she was biting her lip, brow furrowing, because he had distracted her out of the blissful trance the rope had drugged her into.

  He needed to distract he
r right back into it. Stepping closer, he scooped her slight frame into his arms, startling a squeak out of her. She clasped her arms around his neck and looked toward the bed as he approached it. Drew wanted to follow her down, maintain the maddening contact, feel more of the whiskery ropes and the soft, smooth skin beneath his hands.

  The almost shy smile on Eva’s lips, the hint of wetness that lingered on his forearm from where it had grazed across the cleft between her upper thighs as he lowered her onto the rumpled sheet. Everything about her overwhelmed his senses, going straight to his cock, which ached with the need to be inside her.

  But there was one more step he needed to take care of.

  “Give me your hands.”

  She complied, not even looking puzzled. Just accepting and trusting. Drew realized he was holding his breath. Afraid to breathe, to break the spell. Afraid the perfection would be marred if he did or said the wrong thing.

  It took him hardly any time to bind Eva’s wrists as he had the night they’d met, and to secure the tether to the rope that spanned one side of the mattress.

  “Perfect,” he whispered. She was on her side, snugly crisscrossed with rope from shoulders to heels, lashed down at the hands. The pattern of the cage binding left the backs of her thighs and her buttocks exposed, and where they joined Drew could see a glint of wet pink.

  “Drew,” Eva whispered back. Her eyes were nearly closed, and her dreamy smile was intoxicating all on its own. He rounded the bed so he could stand at the side where her head rested. Soon, so soon, he would feel the heat of her mouth, her pussy, on his loudly complaining dick.

  “You saw me lock the door to the apartment, right? You know nobody can come in here.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want this?”

  “Yes. God, so much.” More urgent now. A tiny bit frantic. She writhed, her thighs sliding against each other, and Drew’s patience snapped. He slid his jeans and shorts off and brought his straining erection right up to Eva’s parted lips. He cried out in pleased amazement when she lapped at him, slipping her agile tongue into his slit before using it to circle the swollen head.