by Shay Savage
“TK?”
“Takate-kote. It basically means that your hands are tied behind your back. Like all hobbyists, we like using complicated terms to make us feel superior.”
“Is that how you feel?” she asks quietly.
“Not really,” I reply with a shrug. “It gives me a lot of control, which I do like.” I pull her close to me again. “Now, relax completely. Trust me. I will not let you fall.”
Wordlessly, she relaxes into my chest. I run a hand over her shoulder and down her arm before I grab the rope at her back and push her forward. She gasps and tenses—just for a second—before she realizes I’ve got her. I plant my feet and pull her to one side and then the other, leaning back slightly to give myself more stability. Still firmly grasping the center column, I bring her back to my chest and wrap my arms around her, cradling her head against my shoulder.
I hold her for several minutes, just listening to her breathing and trying to keep myself in check.
Rope is always intimate, always sensual. I usually feel a deep connection to the person I’m tying. If I don’t, I choose not to tie that person again. If they don’t feel a connection with me, I can usually sense it, especially with someone new to the experience, and it sometimes puts me on edge. Not this time, though. This time feels like I’ve tied her a hundred times before.
Kas is a natural at this. Her enjoyment is my enjoyment, and I’m feeling a lot more than the usual intimacy and closeness.
I want to run my hands all over her body. I want to feel her skin against mine as I wrap her in ropes and bring her completely and totally within my control. I want to feel her will bend to mine. I want…everything.
I want to see her, eyed closed and breathing heavily as she comes on my fingers and on my cock. I want her staring at me with that look of adoration that only comes when I pay very close attention to my partner and give them anything and everything they want. I want to feel the energy all around us as I hold her, bind her, encompass her, and possess her.
I take a long, slow breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. I close my eyes and press my lips softly against the top of her head as I remind myself that just because I’m turned on doesn’t mean that she’s ready to be hog-tied and fucked hard. It doesn’t mean that she wants to give me complete and total control over her. It doesn’t mean she’ll allow me to do whatever I want to her.
I will my throbbing cock to simmer down.
Slowly, I reach between us and begin to untie the ropes. I draw the rope over the exposed skin of her arms as I do, letting her feel each strand as I remove it. I take nearly as much time to untie her as I did to tie her, finishing up with her back to me again.
I remove the final tie from around her wrists and then slowly bring each arm back to her sides, rubbing her shoulders and her arms as they’re brought back to a more natural position. I pull her back to my chest and run my hands up and down her arms, massaging her gently to loosen up the tight muscles. I try not to think about how soft her skin feels against mine, how hard my cock is, or how much I’d like to see her naked and tied on the floor at my feet.
Slowly, I bring her down to the floor with me, pulling her into my lap as I continue to massage her. On her upper arms, I can feel the slight indentations left from the ropes and rub there a little harder, pressing into her arm with my thumb.
“What do you think?” I ask as I lean to the side to see her better, wishing I had a cigarette. I’m suddenly nervous about her reaction. Though I’m generally good at reading people, and I think she enjoyed it, I don’t want to be wrong.
Kas turns and looks up at me, her wide eyes sparkling along with her smile.
“I think I should have gone ahead and taken my shirt off.”
My skin tingles as I smile in return. I shift my position a bit to relieve the strain on my cock, debating bringing her closer to me and letting her know how much I enjoyed our play as well.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say. She raises an eyebrow at me. “I mean, I should have taken my shirt off. Makes moving easier, and the whole experience is a little more intimate with skin touching. Skin on skin is always better than feeling each other through clothing.”
“Can we do it again?” she asks.
“Sure.” I can’t contain my smile. “Anytime.”
“Now?”
Oh, hells yes!
Chapter 6—Kas
I’ve never felt anything like this in my life.
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but everything about being tied was a surprise. I thought it would hurt, but it wasn’t even uncomfortable. I thought I would be afraid, but nothing about it was frightening. In fact, I feel far more at ease now than I did before Cree ever revealed the ropes.
The whole time, all I could think was that I should have gone ahead and taken off my shirt before we started. I wanted to feel the ropes on more than my arms, and I wanted to feel his fingers on my skin without the fabric in the way. I didn’t expect him to be so eager to do it all again.
Cree stands in front of me, staring intently into my eyes as he pulls his T-shirt over his head. Slowly. Smoothly. Seductively. Even when it briefly covers his face, his eyes are still on mine when the shirt comes off. He tosses it to the side without ceremony, and my gaze follows, taking in his chest.
Cree is perfectly built, not overly muscular but athletic and clearly defined. His broad shoulders make a perfect triangle with his slim waist and visible abs.
Dear lord, he’s got a happy trail.
As he moves behind me, I stand completely still. Having him at my back and not knowing when or how he will touch me is exciting, especially when he’s quiet and takes a moment, forcing my focus on anticipating his contact.
He’s close to me now, and when I finally feel his hands at my waist, I let out a sharp breath. He wraps his fingers around the hem of my shirt, and I raise my arms so he can pull it over my head. He hums as he grasps my raised wrists in one hand and slowly trails the fingers of the other down my arm, leaving me with gooseflesh.
“Don’t move your hands,” he says as he releases my wrists.
I comply without question.
He stands close to my back as he runs his hand down my other arm, tickling me just enough to make me bite my lip. He strokes the sides of my breasts as he runs his nose over my neck.
“This all right?” he asks, stroking again.
“Yes.”
“And this?” He moves his hands to the front, cupping my breasts and lifting them a little.
I nod quickly as a tingling sensation runs from my breasts to my navel and below.
He brushes my nipples—already embarrassingly hard—with his thumbs and then runs his hands down my stomach to the hem of my jeans before taking his touch away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the flick of a rope.
He gently lowers my arms, bringing my wrists together behind my back, just as he did the first time. Though I can’t see what he’s doing behind my back, I can feel the tug of the ropes against my wrists. I feel the rough texture as he lays it along my spine and then reaches around me to wrap the first strand around my shoulders.
The feeling is difficult to describe. Each rope feels like a deep, sensual hug. It feels as if he’s not just binding my body but binding the two of us together. I feel lightheaded, and I have to remember to breathe properly as he ties my shoulders and then moves to my breasts, running two strands of rope around the top and underneath them, lifting each as he moves.
This process is far more intimate than the first time.
With the full length of his body pressed to mine, he reaches around and trails the end of the rope over my nipples. I hear him inhale deeply as he runs his nose up the side of my neck, and a shudder runs through my body.
“Are you warm enough?” he asks, whispering into my ear.
“Yes.”
“Warm enough to take these off?” He runs his thumb over the waist of my jeans, stopping in the front and flicking the butto
n, allowing it to slip from the hole.
“Yes.” I shiver but not because I’m cold. His words are as warm as his chest pressed against my back.
I close my eyes as he lowers the zipper on my jeans and bite my lip as I anticipate his lowering them. He doesn’t though. Instead, he runs his hands around the inside of the waistband, then down my thighs. He crouches as he trails his fingers over my calves and all the way to my ankles. He slips my sandals off my feet, dragging his fingers up my legs as he stands again.
He presses himself against my back as he again circles my waist with his fingers inside the top of my jeans, so, so slowly. I hold my breath as he dips his hands further inside my jeans, waiting for him to touch me there, but he doesn’t. He keeps his hands to either side, just barely touching my thighs as he breathes hot breath against my neck. My clit throbs and my thighs clench, waiting and waiting for a touch that doesn’t come.
He pulls his hands back and then hooks his thumbs into my waistband to begin lowering my jeans. I let out a sharp breath of frustration, and I think I can feel his lips turn into a smile against my throat.
“So needy,” he whispers as he takes a step away.
I feel my face heat up as cool air hits my back. I clench my hands into fists, pulling slightly against the ropes. They tighten around my wrists, holding me in place. I try to reach out to touch him, but I can’t quite stretch my fingers far enough. I have to stop myself from squeezing my legs together, and I wonder if he realizes exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Do you want me to touch you more?” he asks softly and slowly. “Would you like me to get down on my knees and run my tongue over that throbbing clit of yours?”
“Yes.” The word comes out as barely more than a squeak.
“No.” He chuckles softly. “It’s far too much fun to watch you squirm in those ropes.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth to keep from moaning. I no longer wonder if he’s doing this on purpose. He clearly knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying it.
He lowers my jeans a little more, leaving them just above my knees before he stops, running one hand back up my thigh and over my hip. He pauses a moment, sighing softly before he wraps his arm around my waist and brings me back against his body.
I gasp. He’s opened his own jeans, and I can feel his cock against my backside. He pulls me hard against him, extending his fingers until they are just above my clit but still not touching. He kicks off his shoes and pushes his jeans down, stepping out of them easily without ever letting me go.
“That’s better.” He pushes against me again, raising one foot off the floor and rubbing the side of my leg with his. “Your skin feels wonderful. So soft.”
I blush and shake my head slightly, not sure how to respond to the comment.
“Don’t you dare try to brush off my compliments.” He places his foot back on the floor and reaches his hand back up. He rubs his fingers deep into my hair, then grips me suddenly, pulling my head back sharply until I’m staring up into his face.
It’s unexpected but doesn’t actually hurt. I can’t move my head at all. All I can do is stare up at him.
“I’m going to give you a lot of compliments,” he says, “so you might as well get used to it, and just accept what I say. Got it?”
I try to nod, but I can’t move enough. He seems to get the idea anyway.
“You have beautiful breasts,” he whispers into my ear. “I love how they look all trussed up like that. Nipples hard, you breathing hard. You’re making me hard as a fucking rock.”
My thighs clench as his words vibrate through my clit. He releases my hair and runs his hand down my back softly.
“I’d love to feel how soft your pussy is inside. Love to feel you gripping my cock as I slide it into you. How would you like that?”
Even if I could respond, I have no idea what to say.
Cree chuckles softly before he lets go and walks around in front of me.
I watch his face closely as he loops another rope around the top of my thigh. The look on his face is so intense, so focused, it takes my breath away. He weaves ropes around me and around the ropes themselves, pulls his arm out to toss the end of the rope off to one side, and then quickly brings it back again. I feel the rough fibers tighten around my leg, just along the outer labia. I wonder if I can shift my weight enough to get the rope to move a little closer to the place that is throbbing for some friction.
Cree glances up, catching my stare, and smiles slyly. He pulls the rope taut before grabbing the section around my waist and pulling me close to him.
“Patience,” he says softly.
Placing one hand on my shoulder, he leans in close enough that our lips are nearly touching and stares into my eyes. I shift forward, my gaze focused on his lips, but as I do, he pushes away with the hand on my shoulder, denying me the kiss.
Bastard.
He grins again, grabs a rope at my side, and spins me around. If it weren’t for his firm grip on the ropes, I would have fallen with the abrupt change of movement, but he keeps me upright.
Safe.
I feel his touch on my palm, and I squeeze his fingers automatically. He hums approval as he places his fingers in my other palm—I can’t even tell which is right and which is left anymore—and I squeeze again.
He moves around me quickly, removing my jeans first and then tying ropes to my ankles and around my knees and thighs. He makes neat little knots in a twisted row up the side of my leg. When he runs out of one rope, he grabs another, quickly tying it to the end of the previous one and continuing on smoothly, wrapping me in rough, taut rope like I’m preparing to be mummified.
Cree stands and moves behind me, holding me close against him as he trails a rope over my stomach. He holds the end with his fingers as he draws it farther down, and finally—finally—I feel the pressure against my clit.
And then it’s gone.
I moan in frustration, and Cree chuckles again. I feel the rope through my panties as it slides against the crack of my ass and then up my back. He grips me again with one arm around my waist, then pulls lightly against the rope between my legs, granting me the friction I crave.
I moan loudly this time, and he tugs a little harder.
“You like that?” He tugs the rope again, moving it side to side slightly.
I gasp in response, eyes closed as I press my back to his chest. He releases the tension, allowing the rope to go slack between my legs, holding me in place when I try to sink lower to capture the pressure again.
“Imagine all the things I could do to you,” he says quietly.
A moment later, I’m on my knees. I’m not even sure how much of the descent was tension on the ropes or just Cree pushing me down, but here I am, kneeling with my forehead on the floor. I barely felt any impact.
Actually, I feel nothing—nothing except his cock pressed firmly against the crotch of my panties as he kneels between my legs.
He grinds against me as he pulls on the rope around my knees and under my legs, curling my body into a ball, knees against my chest. He grabs the ropes at the center of my back, rolling me back and forth as he continues to press his cock against me.
Cree’s hand moves from the center of my shoulder blades to the back of my neck. He pushes me down a little further until my breasts are smashed against the floor. I feel his fingers creep around to my throat, and he grips me firmly but not enough to cut off my airflow. It doesn’t matter. I can’t breathe anyway.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I’m hit with a very real and intense fear.
What have I done? I’ve allowed this man to tie me up, leaving myself completely and totally vulnerable. Why? Just because I crushed on him as a teenager? Am I insane? How well do I really know this man—a man I haven’t even spoken to for years? At this point, if he were to decide to fuck me, there is no way I could stop him. Is that what I want? I nearly said as much before, but this…this is different.
I feel his hot breath at
my ear.
“You still okay?” he asks quietly. “If this is too much, tell me.”
Instantly, with his reassuring words and his gentle touch, the fear melts away.
I inhale sharply. I try to let the air back out slowly, but I end up panting. My heart is pounding so quickly, I feel like I can’t take in air fast enough to keep up with the blood flowing through my veins. Cree removes his hand from my throat and pulls me backward, and my head spins. I’m still tied into a ball, but now he’s sitting cross-legged, and I’m in his lap, cradled against his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Cree says softly. “Breathe slowly.”
I feel tears well up in my eyes. I try to slow my breathing down, but it only comes in staccato gasps. The ropes around me go slack, and I feel my hands begin to throb as blood rushes into them. I don’t know why I’m crying. I want to tell him not to untie me; I’m not ready for this to be over—but I can’t get any words out.
“Shh…”
Cree spins me around, moving me away from him just long enough for the ropes to fall away from my body.
They’re gone. The ropes are gone. No, no, no! I want them back! I’m not ready yet!
I still can’t speak, and the tears keep falling.
Again, Cree pulls me down into his lap, cradling me like a child. He wraps his fingers around my ankle, squeezing and rubbing the rope marks. He moves to the other ankle for a moment before he shifts my body so my back is against his chest and my head rests on his shoulder. From this position, he begins to massage my upper arms, rubbing deep into my muscles. He rubs my shoulders and then massages my thighs.
Eventually, my tears ebb, and I’m left with deep embarrassment instead.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whisper as I wipe at my eyes and nose. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says quietly. “Rope can be very intense and very emotional. If you’re crying, you needed to cry. That’s not a bad thing.”
“It isn’t?”
“Not at all.” He presses his lips against my forehead, rocking me silently. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I got a little carried away. You’re such a natural in rope, I forgot for a moment that you don’t know me that well, and our trust bond isn’t established. I took it too far, and I am sorry if that frightened you.”
