Playing Knotty (11 page)

Ian was already untying the long lengths of rope from the shoulder loops, relieving the pressure on her clit and bringing the tails behind her back again. “The other option is to use an overhead hook to secure you.”

“An overhead hook?” Emma looked up, surprised—although she probably shouldn't have been—that his ceiling had several hooks, loops, and bolts. Before she could ask further, he'd tossed the ends of the rope over a hook and pulled them down. The action lifted her arms by the wrist, and the only way Emma could take the pressure off her shoulders was to bend at the waist. She spread her legs instinctively to keep her balance. Ian kept pulling until she was bent completely over, staring at the ground, her arms lifted toward the ceiling. Then the ropes were tied and he was walking around in front of her. She tried to tip her head back to look at him, but the action strained her neck. Instead, she could only look down at his bare feet beneath the frayed cuffs of his jeans. Her head was level with his groin. In this position, he could unzip his jeans, step forward, and fuck her mouth. Would he wrap his hand in her hair to hold her in place? The thought made her squirm in frustrated arousal.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” The word came out like a breathy exhale. If he touched her, he'd find her soaking wet. God, she really wanted him to touch her. Why had she sworn off sex with him?

“I'm going to untie you now.”

After a moment, the pressure on her shoulders eased, and she could stand upright as he removed the ties from the overhead hook. He unwrapped her wrists first, then slid the shoulder loops down and pulled the entire harness off her arms in one movement.

“Check this out.”

She turned to see him hold up the dragonfly sleeve, a complicated mess of loops and knots without her arms in it. Then he pulled the ends, and the entire piece unraveled in one fluid motion. “They're all slipknots. It unties like magic.”

“Right.” Emma nodded, trying to look impressed, but she was distracted by the pounding in her bloodstream and her soaked panties. “So what's next?”

“Well, I thought we'd do an over-and-back harness.” Ian was already switching back to the coil of rope he'd used for the ankle wrap. “It's something I usually teach in my advanced classes, but I'm going to tie it very quickly so you don't have to spend long in the position. It's easy to cut off your circulation because it puts your arms behind your head, so you need to tell me if your arms go numb.”

“Okay.” Feeling nervous, Emma licked her lips. “Do you want me standing, or what?”

“You can sit for this. Put your wrists in front of you.”

Emma hopped back onto the edge of the bed and held her wrists out for Ian to begin tying.

He did move quickly. Holding her wrists about three inches apart, he wrapped rope loosely around both, then began wrapping the slack between them into a stiff bundle. When he'd finished, her wrists were immobile, locked in place a few inches apart. She remembered that this was called the basic wrap. Then he lifted her arms up and behind her head, elbows sticking straight up. She couldn't see everything he did, but he wrapped the rope around the front and back of her, tying knots here and there, securing her wrists to her back so she couldn't pull them over her head. When he crisscrossed the ropes around her breasts, she closed her eyes, overwhelmed. Either he didn't notice or he didn't say anything, working with a businesslike precision. Finally, he tied off the ends in front. Emma felt even more vulnerable than she had before, and . . . she liked it.

“So, Emma.” Ian held the ends of the rope, mischief in his eyes. “Are you ticklish?”

Her eyes flashed open. Oh, shit. He wouldn't, would he? Her underarms were exposed, her sides, and he could easily overpower her like this. He could tip her back onto the bed and tickle her, running his fingers up her sides until she begged for mercy, and maybe he would give it to her, sucking bruising kisses along her collarbone . . .

“Don't you fucking dare.” She squirmed against her bonds, though the mental image was anything but horrifying.

He laughed. “Don't worry. I'd never do something like that without your permission.” He unfastened the harness as quickly as he'd fastened it, unwrapping her torso and helping ease her arms back down in front to be untied. “How are you feeling?”

Like I want to fuck you.
“Fine.”

“No numbness?”

“Nope. Everything's good.” She wiggled her fingers, then crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. If she met his eyes, he'd know what she was thinking.

Ian hopped onto the bed next to her. “I know this turns you on, Emma. You don't have to try and hide it.”

Whipping her head around to look at him, she fixed him with her best angry stare. “What?”

“It's okay. I know this gets you off. It's part of what makes you so fun to work with.”

How was she supposed to respond to that? She opened and closed her mouth a few times, her face on fire with embarrassment. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“Of course not. It's totally normal. Do you want to continue? Or do you want me to stop?”

She stared at him defiantly. “No, I'm good. You can continue.”

Chapter 13

H
e'd been worried
she'd ask him to stop when he called her out on her arousal, but she didn't. She wanted him to go on. If only she hadn't brought up that ridiculous stipulation about them having no more sex; it was hard to resist her when she was so obviously turned on.

“So what's next?” The eagerness was apparent in her voice, though she was trying to stay calm.

He paused, considering his options. There were several pieces he usually taught in his advanced class that he hadn't covered, but he wasn't sure she was ready for them.

“I'd like to do a hogtie, if it's all right by you.” He was already gathering the rope he'd need.

“Like, wrists to ankles? That kind of hogtie?” Emma fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

“Sort of. A bit more complex. It's got a harness component.”

Emma nodded. “All right. Okay. Yeah. Just . . . tell me what to do.”

Ian centered the middle of the long rope on the back of Emma's neck, letting the ends trail down over her shoulders, and had her hold some slack in the rope while he tied a square knot in the middle of her chest. She was easy to work with. He enjoyed the way her breath quickened when he crossed the rope behind her back, his arms reaching around her for a moment to tie another square knot. She was so responsive, telegraphing her arousal with every slow blink or shift of her hips. He continued to wrap the rope around her torso in gentle, easy loops.

He had to move behind her for the next stage of the harness, using several long loops to build a structure to which he could attach her bound ankles, rather than tying them right to her wrists. She didn't move, didn't make a noise, but he could see her shallow breaths in the rise and fall of her shoulders.

“Lie down on your stomach in the middle of the bed.”

Emma scooted back and positioned herself on her stomach, propped up on her elbows to look over at him. “Like this?”

“For a start, yeah.” He knelt up over her, straddling her hips, and her motion stilled. “Give me your hands.”

Emma lay flat, bringing her wrists behind her back. Grabbing a shorter rope from the pile, Ian used a basic wrap to tie her wrists together. Then, turning around, he did the same to her ankles. All he had left was the last stage of the tie. With the long trailing ropes of the chest harness, he brought them under the wrap on her ankles and then to the rope foundation between her shoulder blades. By pulling the rope through, he drew her ankles up toward her shoulders.

Emma made a soft squeak of surprise when she felt her feet leave the bed, her body bending.

“You all right?” He held the rope in his right hand and leaned over to see her face.

“Yup. Fine. It's . . . different.” She wriggled in the bonds.

“I like this hogtie because I can control how much your legs bend. If I pull this rope more,” and he did so, lifting her ankles even higher, “you arch more. If I let it slack,” and he did so, letting her legs relax to the bed, “you can put your legs down.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” She rested her head down on the bed, face turned away from him until he pulled the rope again. He drew it tight until her legs could bend up no more, and she had to lift her head off the bed, arching her back. The motion pushed her chest out. He held her taut like that, letting her sink into the sensation, until he saw her eyelids flutter closed. His cock twitched at the sight, stirring in his jeans. Fuck, he could look at her like this all day. She looked incredible in rope. He could tie the rope off like this and hold her in the position, but it wouldn't be long before her muscles began to cramp. After a moment longer, he released the tension and let her body relax, willing his own to do the same.

Emma lay mostly limp as he untied her bonds, unwrapping the rope from her ankles and wrists first. When she sat up at his request, he untied the rest of the wrap and set the rope aside before turning back to her. She was a sight: face flushed, eyes dark, still breathing shallowly. He could end the evening right then, send her home, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. He had a sense of what she'd like, and if he was right, he could finish the evening with something she wouldn't forget.

“Emma, how do you feel about breast bondage?”

If she'd been pink before, her face turned scarlet at his words. She started playing with the hem of her shirt again. When she spoke, it was with a deliberate bravado. “Well, obviously I've never tried it.”

“Right. But would you be willing to?”

She hesitated. “Does it hurt?”

“It doesn't have to.”

Emma nodded. “Okay. What do I . . . I mean, is what I'm wearing all right? Or should I . . .” She trailed off, looking down at her shirt. He considered her question. Usually he did this with a naked partner, but she probably wouldn't go for that, and it would be a serious test of his resolve if she did.

“It would be better for you to take off your bra. But you can leave your shirt on. I can do the tie over it.”

Nodding, Emma reached up behind her back and fiddled with something. Then she slipped each arm into her shirt in turn and pulled her bra out through one sleeve. The fact that women could do that with such ease always fascinated him. Without her bra, it was much easier for Ian to see the press of Emma's nipples against her T-shirt, despite the bagginess of the material. He forced himself to look away and find the right lengths of rope. “Good. That'll be fine.”

After having her lift her arms up and out of the way, he folded the rope in half, then wrapped it around her torso above her breasts. Slipping the ends through the bight, he pulled it snug. “How's that feel? Not too tight, is it?”

“Nope. Fine.” She was looking straight through him, eyes unfocused, and it would be easy to read her body language as uncomfortable if he didn't know better. Wrapping the ropes again, he lined a second row up right below the first, careful that they didn't overlap, and snugged up those as well. Next he wrapped the rope around her front again, this time below her breasts.

“I'm going to need to touch your breasts. All right?”

She nodded, her breathing shallow, and he gently lifted them to line the rope close to the bottom of her breasts. He tugged her shirt down smooth as he did so, making sure there were no creases to dig into her skin, wrapped the rope an additional time, and cinched it. Already, her breasts swelled slightly under the pressure. Bringing the rope around front to the exact center of her chest, he slipped the ends beneath the wrappings and pulled them through the top and down. The action pulled the bottom ropes up and the top ropes down, squeezing her breasts. She gasped.

“Is that all right? It doesn't hurt, does it?” He studied her face. She could be enjoying it, but she could also be uncomfortable. The reactions looked surprisingly similar. “Let me know if you need me to loosen it.”

“No, it's . . . it's good.” Her voice came out breathy and excited. Not uncomfortable, then. Separating the two strands of rope, he began to wrap her breasts individually, snugging them into perfect spheres before tying off the ends behind her back. Her eyes had fallen closed, her lips parted a bit. He'd hoped she'd like this. His partners usually did, said how sensitive their breasts became, engorged and stimulated by the binding.

“Can I tie your arms?” he whispered, unwilling to take her out of her headspace. She nodded, her eyes remaining closed. Bringing her arms behind her back, he began binding her wrists with the leftover rope, moving by instinct since his mind was running through a dozen fantasies. This was unlike him. With his sexual partners, he always stuck to a few basic ties, nothing complex, nothing to frighten them off. And with his bondage models, it was never sexual, just business. He never felt about his bondage models the way he felt about Emma, this unbridled desire that seemed to consume him, and he needed an ice-cold shower.

When she was secure, he moved back around to face her. She squirmed only a bit, twisting her wrists in their bonds the way he'd seen people do, not to escape but to confirm that escape was impossible.

Then she opened her eyes, and the brown irises were drowned by the blackness of her pupils. She looked up at him, her lips parted, her face begging for something to which she couldn't give voice. Unable to resist, he brought his hand up to cup the side of her face, and she leaned in to his touch, eyelids fluttering.

His hand moved down her face to her neck, tracing the smooth skin, and he couldn't help the words that slipped out. “Emma, I want to touch you so fucking badly right now.”

“
Yes,
” she hissed, and she arched up at him. “God, Ian, please.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Both hands coming up to her bound breasts, he took the swollen flesh in his hands and squeezed. She sobbed and lifted her mouth to his where he was already bending to kiss her, swallowing her moans and gorgeous whimpers when he began twisting her nipples between his fingers. This was probably a terrible idea, but neither of them seemed to care in the moment.

When he took his hands away, she tried to press against him once more, but he was already scooting her to the middle of the bed where he could press her onto her back.

“Yes! Oh, please, touch me. Touch me.” She writhed, unable to get any leverage in her bindings. “God, they're so sensitive . . . I feel like I'm on fire.”

Lowering himself carefully on top of her, Ian began to bite and suck at her neck while his fingers returned to her breasts. He tested her limits, pinching the nipples softly, then harder, and each time she arched harder against him with a moan. Fuck, this was not supposed to be so hot. This tie was supposed to be mildly sexual, a tease, and instead he was grinding against her as she wrapped her legs up over his hips, rubbing herself shamelessly against him.

“Emma.” He pulled back through great effort, leaning up on his elbows, and she opened her eyes with some degree of reluctance. She looked freshly fucked already, her lips swollen, eyes dark, face flushed. Damn, she was incredible.

“What?” She wriggled on the bed. “What's wrong?”

“You said you didn't want sex.”

She closed her eyes, body sagging a bit. “I know. But God, I can't . . . really remember why right now.”

He laughed, surprised, and she smiled back up at him. Then she lifted her hips to rub against him again, and his laugh turned into a broken sound, his eyes falling closed. “Christ, Em.”

“Will you . . . touch me?” She lifted her hips to him again, making her meaning clear. She had drawn her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the soft flesh.

“Are you sure?” He paused at the waistband of her pants. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“
Yes.
God, yes. Please.”

Ian didn't need any more convincing. He tugged her pants down past her hips, taking her underwear with them, and slid his hand into the space between her thighs. The bunched-up clothing effectively trapped her legs together, but he had enough room to slide his fingers into her slick folds and find her clit.

She gasped, arching up, struggling against her bonds as her eyes fell closed.

“Is this good?”

“Fuck, yes. Don't . . . don't stop.”

With his thumb still circling her clit, Ian pressed two long fingers up inside her, finding the spot that made her gasp his name. He wanted her, wanted to replace his fingers with his mouth and cock and make her come, but it was almost as hot just to bring her off like this. He pressed the heel of his free hand to his hard cock through his jeans, willing himself to last through this, wanting to watch her fall apart. He didn't have to wait long.

Her mouth falling open in a soundless cry, Emma's body seemed to snap, back arching, bound hands scrabbling in the sheets below her as she completely lost herself in the climax. When she was just coming down, Ian unzipped his jeans and wrapped his hand around his dick, fingers still wet from Emma. With two quick strokes he was coming, his release consuming him in heat and pleasure.

Ian reached to the nightstand for tissues, his heart racing as if he'd been running, and cleaned himself up before returning to Emma and inching her pants and underwear back up over her hips. Sliding a hand beneath her back, he helped her sit up and started to untie her.

Ian's hands felt uncertain, shaky, as he unlooped the rope that bound Emma. Her shirt was crinkled in places when he released the pressure. She traced the spots with her fingertips, feeling the sensitive skin.

“They'll feel tender for a couple of hours.” He coiled up the rope, his thoughts running rampant. Where did they stand now? Did she regret what had just happened?

“I like the way they feel.” She gave him a tentative smile, then rubbed the back of her neck. “That was okay, right? Just then?”

She was asking him? He nodded, maybe too quickly. “Yes. Absolutely. Totally fine.”