Still, she had insisted that they attend a few erotic kinbaku shibari exhibits in Dallas, and she had read much about the art of Japanese erotic bondage. She had asked him questions about his art, why he enjoyed it and how a jujun enjoyed being bound. She had even educated herself about medieval Japanese samurai who had used rope restraint to demonstrate in knots and suspensions how they honored the status of their prisoners. Sam thrilled Case with her interest. Even this insistence that they perform this exhibit gratified him. But it also conflicted him.
“You won’t harm me, Case, because you are deft. I know your agility. I’ve felt it when you have tied me to our bed. And I trust you.” She ran her hands over his hair that he had slicked straight back in true master style. “Rid your mind of dark thoughts. Become one with the art you love to practice.”
He nodded. “And afterward?”
“If I wish to serve again as your jujun, I will tell you.”
“If not, sweetheart, your wish is mine.”
She inclined her head in a bow, reminding him more of graceful geisha than a nawashi’s subject. “As yours is mine.”
“And at the end when I am to reward you, I am undecided if I want the world to see how you come for me. I know you enjoy exhibitionism, but I have no idea if I can permit others to see how you shatter for me.” Fiercely possessive of her as his lover, he sank his splayed fingers into her hair. “I love you, Sam. Love you. That picture of your ecstasy I fear I want to be mine alone. And if I cannot let them see you express your gratitude to me, then I will have cheated them. This would not be honorable for a kinbaku master.”
“Fear nothing. Enjoy each moment of your art.”
“But I want to make you happy.”
“Come.” She took his hand and led him toward the door. “Decide when you must.”
* * * * *
Her arms above her head, outstretched, made her weightless. She floated in the air, perhaps four feet off the ground, her legs extended, her thighs open. And she was naked. Warm, the lights brilliant and blazing over her moist skin. Though she could not see beyond the floodlights, she listened to those who whispered their appreciation for her Master’s rendering of her.
Time had little meaning. Colors faded, only light flooded her mind. Her breasts tingled, demarcated by ropes up over her shoulders and around and under her armpits. Her nipples—she had seen them as her master touched them and made her tingle with his care—were compressed between two small bamboo sticks. They yearned to be free. More precisely to be sucked and licked and laved to harder, pearly points.
Her cunt creamed once again at the thought. She knew she should not moan. An honorable jujun would remain silent, reverent to the hand that tempered her. Subdued her will to his. She lolled her head, an image of her nawashi-san taking up the jute rope, the white asanawa, and pulling it tight from the length he had secured at her waist and winding it over one labia up over her ass to the knot at the hollow of her spine.
Then he had done the same honor to her other labia. He opened her like a flower, he had told her, a sakura, to let the world view how much she loved him. How wet she was to have him. How lusciously red and hot she was to take him inside her. How her clit was so big and hard it came out to beg him to nibble her.
But he did not touch her clit or her labia or her nipples. He worked now on her toes, separating each one with a quick flick of a thin asanawa, crimping her foot into an arch that made her clench her teeth and control her need to cry out to him. Take me, have me, make me feel. The words coursed through her like a mantra.
She heard the crank of the suspension system that lifted her over the dais. Her master turned it once, twice, and he hoisted her higher into the air.
She felt the whoosh of air flow over her naked, moist, swollen body as she flew higher.
She heard the hoarse cries of delight from the observers. They loved his artistry. As they should.
She loved the man.
She heard him take their appreciation with soft Japanese words.
“Do itashi mashita,” he murmured, and in her mind’s eyes, she could see him bow, his hands folded before him to take their homage.
She smiled, free, soaring.
How long she remained for the observers to admire her form, she did not know. The lights had such brilliance she had long ago closed her eyes to them. The better, in any case, to concentrate on the feeling of each inch of rope over her sensitive skin. The better to anticipate her Master’s reward for her service to him.
At long last, she heard the crank, sensed the air flow over her aware flesh and shivered as her pussy drenched in her juices to prepare for him. How she wanted to reward him for his kindness to her. How she wanted to show him how much she adored him. How she wanted to make the point for his audience that he was a superb nawashi and reward them for their attentions. Please, Master, allow me to help you reward them for their devotion.
As he brought her toward the floor, his skillful, careful fingers unleashing her fingers, her arms, he kissed each place where he had applied a jute rope. Still she hung by the shoulders and waist from the ceiling hooks, the arch of her back supported by the ropes around her thighs and knees. Her pussy ran with her cream, the liquid coating her thighs.
Her Master moaned. She shivered in delight at the sound. This was his involuntary sign that he had noticed her body’s succulent response to him. If it was wrong of her to react with juicy delight, she had not been able to quell her desire for him. The bald fact was that she grew impatient to be down from here and to be rewarded by him with a beautiful orgasm.
He brought her farther down, her thighs wide open now, her cunt spread wide for all who cared to see how she loved him. The tsuri, her suspension, was now complete.
The time for her Master to make his decision was now.
She waited. Still. Silent.
No sound met her ears. All waited for her Master to decide how and when to end this performance.
He came toward her. Though he made no sound, she could smell him, feel his heat. He placed two open palms on her inner thighs and slid them to cup her ass cheeks. With a slow reverence, he drew her near to him and at the touch of his warm mouth against her wet and burning lips, she sank into a sweet bliss.
He waited.
She smiled to herself. To reach total oneness with her Master, she must receive his lips, his tongue, his teeth with a silence and honor befitting his excellence.
She surrendered herself, her body offered for what he would grant her.
And he gave her the warm, soft diligence of a kiss. The whisper of his lips against the length of her slit from clit to anus. The lave of his tongue against the frilly folds of her vulva. The nuzzling avarice of his teeth against her clit. The sweet suck of his mouth to her tender swollen bud. The hard pierce of one finger up her ass. Two delving fingers up her core that made her arch and yearn. His tender caresses that gave her the electric joy of a wondrous throbbing climax.
She shook with the power of her completion, the orgasm the wildest, sweetest thing she had known, except when she was in his arms and his cock inside her body.
How long she quaked, she could not measure.
But his hands were upon her, freeing her, massaging her, helping her to stand.
Naked, still vibrating with hunger for him, she bowed to him. “Domo arigato goziamashita, Sensei,” she murmured her thanks for her pleasure this evening.
“Do itashi mashita,” he told her, approving of her humility, the light in his eyes fierce with longing and pride.
He rubbed a palm down his bare abs, his perspiration sluicing beneath his loincloth. His aroused cock stood tall and full in the white cotton and Cho knew her master was pleased with her.
She waited as the audience applauded her nawashi-san and after his last bow, she followed him into the changing room.
Case caught her up and whirled her around. “You were magnificent! Fascinating. I had all I could do not to haul you to the floor and take you in front of t
hem all. How are you?”
He sat down with her in his lap. His hands flew over her, rubbing, tracing, treasuring.
She nestled into him. Her muscles burned, but her mind was very clear. “I thought you were wonderful.”
“Me? Hell, I was nothing, honey. Nothing but your man.”
“My man.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was sweaty, solid, his exertions telling in the strain on his face. “I love you. Love what you did for me. How did you feel? Showing them that you liked me?”
“Liked you?” He cursed. “Darlin’, I more than liked you. I adore you. Need you. Not just out there.”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that again? With me?”
“Only if you want, Sam. I would never do it with anyone else. I love you, baby. And I want you to hurry up and figure out how much more of this Austin scene you need. I tell you again to come to me whenever you want, honey, but I am a wreck when you’re not with me. I don’t eat right. I don’t sleep well. I want you, Sam, all the time.”
She wiggled in his arms, her breasts swollen and her nipples drilling into his big, broad chest. But her pussy needed attention. Lots of it. “I hope you’re going to show me how much you want me by using this soon.” She caressed his very impressive erection.
He picked her up in his arms and settled her over his hips. “Open these pretty wet lips for me, darlin’, and I will reward you for your expert performance.”
She spread her thighs wide, tore off his loincloth and directed his thick cock inside her needy cunt. Her eyes drifted closed as he filled her up. But her mind worked and so did her voice. “Marry me, Case.”
He went still. “Say that again.”
“Marry me. Thanksgiving Day maybe? Because I am very grateful for you, sweetie. As my Master.” She winked at him. “And my lover. I am so tired of living apart from you.”
He shifted so that his nice big shaft took all of her channel and she moaned her appreciation. “You can work here in Bravado if you want.”
“Hmmm.” She undulated to heighten the thrill of their union. “Eventually open my own nonprofit. I’ll educate people on water conservation. But I’ll take my time establishing it.” She kissed his nose. “I have so much else to do.”
“Really?” He grinned. “Like what?”
“Loving you. Being your butterfly.” She kissed him long and hard. “How about I tie you down?”
“Any way. Any day. As long as you wear my ring and my name.”
She gave him a look of pained delight. “Cho Turner?”
“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled. “By any name, you are mine. All mine.”
About Cerise DeLand
What’s an East Coast gal to do if she lives deep in the heart of Texas, travels often everywhere, and adores Paris, Florence, London, Tokyo and all points east and west?
Ah.
She becomes an author who can write about those romantic places! With a passion for cowboys, spies, rakes, knights in shining armor and their gutsy women, Cerise DeLand is an author who adores an alpha male with a tender heart and a need for a smoldering erotic love affair with the right woman!
And when Cerise isn’t dreaming up fiction or traveling? She is a fabulous cook and an avid history buff.
Busy lady. Happy writer.
Cerise welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Cerise DeLand
Carried Away
Hat Trick
Her Three-Way Merger
I Caught the Sheriff
Laid Bare
Me and Mr. Jones
Mia Dolce
Nemesis 1: Until the Dawn with Desiree Holt
Nemesis 2: Until Midnight with Desiree Holt
Nemesis 3: Until Twilight with Desiree Holt
Rope Me In
Strong Arms of the Law
Wedding Belles: Something Blue with Desiree Holt & Allie Standifer
Wedding Belles: Something New
Whenever We Meet
Print books by Cerise DeLand
Cougarlicious anthology
Irresistible Forces
Wedding Belles with Desiree Holt & Allie Standifer
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Tie Me Down
ISBN 9781419941283
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Tie Me Down Copyright © 2012 Cerise DeLand
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover art by Kendra Egert
Photos: Mashurov, Katarina Brown and Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication October 2012
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Tie Me Down: 2 (Knights in Black Leather) Page 12
