Page 110 of Gideon
He thread the rope through what looked to be a ring and suddenly things began to click in my mind.
“Are you going to suspend me?” I asked, worry filling my stomach.
“No, vixen. I would not spring something like that on you without discussing many things first. Safety, consent, and all of that,” he reminded me with a wink. He hopped down from the chair, moving it back to the wall before approaching me again. His hands found my upper arms, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered with resound and resolute confidence. I wanted this. I wanted him to take it all away. I was ready to trust him, yet again, to take control.
“Good.” He faced me again, a second hank of the same rope in his hands as he unwound it and began tying it around my middle. I let myself sink into the sensation as the rope slid over my skin, criss-crossing over my breasts as he tied intricate knots together that pulled my small breasts high and squeezed them tightly. A yank here, a pull there, then the rope sliding as it was pulled through, the sound buzzing in my ears. It was tantalizing, seductive, and it had me feeling wet and wanting.
“Look at you, you exquisite creature,” Gideon nearly groaned in appreciation. My own eyes looked down at the pattern he had created over my chest. It was a little like a star, but the center was pulled into more of a circle. My breasts were squeezed, the rope tightly binding each of them, making them seem larger. Making them feel sensitive as it bordered on pain.
His fingers softly flicked over my nipples, making me gasp.
“The tight binding makes the blood rush right here. It makes everything feel taut, stretched, heightening every sensation,” his voice spun words like a spider’s web, drawing me in like his prey.
“Turn,” his low voice commanded. As I spun around, his fingers followed the pattern of rope on my body. Each touch made me shiver, made me feel like electricity spun just below the surface of my skin.
His fingers moved over my waist, trailing up my ribcage as he raised my arms with every touch. His hands followed up over my arms until he had my wrists gathered above my head.
“I’m going to bind your wrists, vixen,” he informed me firmly. I nodded my head, feeling the faint tinges of anxiety and fear swirl in my belly.
“Remember your safewords,” he reminded me gently, his voice soft and gentle as he whispered the words against the sensitive shell of my ear.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered right back. He tied my wrists together quickly, slipping his finger between the rope and the tender skin of my inner wrist as he checked the ties one by one. In moments, he had looped the discarded rope through the new rope, pulling it through the ring on the ceiling almost like a pulley system. He pulled and pulled until I was stretched tightly, rising up to the balls of my feet in order to match the tug of the rope.
I could hear him tying it off somehow, holding me there in a taut line. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my stomach swirling with a mix of excitement and arousal. My thighs rubbed together, my sex feeling wet and swollen. Need coursed through me. I wanted him to touch me, to make me forget my own name. As it was, the tension between us had grown to a fever pitch. Every touch had been met with silence, pulling the strings of arousal between us with every breath, every touch. It was painful anticipation at its finest.
He circled back around me. His hand touched my chin, drawing my eyes to him.
“I want to make you quiver, make you shake, beneath my touch,” he spoke, his voice dark with arousal. “I want to make you gasp and beg.”
“Oh God. Please,” I shamelessly whimpered. My hips arched forward, so beyond ready for his touch. I felt like one touch of his fingers between my thighs would set me off.
“Not yet. Not until you’re whimpering and dripping down your thighs for me,” he chuckled darkly. I watched him closely, my every thought trained on him as he moved to the bed, picking up a long stick like thing. A crop, I think he had explained once before.
The leather tip ran up my stomach, making me draw in a shuttered breath of anticipation before he brought the crop down sharply over one nipple.
“Christ,” I gasped, exhaling a groan of need. My back arched, pulling against the ropes that bound me to the ceiling.
“Good,” he hummed in appreciation. The crop moved down my stomach, light swats hitting near my navel, and then my hip as he moved around to my back.
Swat! Swat!
Two quick flicks of pain licked at my ass cheeks, making my back arch into the sensation. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’tnotpainful either. Instead, I found myself in some heavenly space between. Some throbbing, panty-wetting, delicious space I was coming to crave.
On and on the swats came, flickering over my skin like perfectly stinging kisses against my body.
“Spread your legs, vixen,” he all but growled. I obeyed, carefully moving my legs apart as I balanced on the balls of my feet. I was trembling. His fingers found my folds, sliding against my slick pussy, collecting my taste as he teased me.
“Please, yes! Please,” I moaned, begging him for more of the touch I so desperately craved.
His fingers swirled over my aching clit and then vanished again. I heard the gentle swish of the crop slicing through the air, then gasped suddenly as pain exploded over my aching core, the leather tip setting my pussy lips ablaze with tingling pain. My legs closed quickly, protecting my most sensitive place.
“Legs. Open. Now.” His voice commanded me and I had to obey; I longed to obey. I felt dizzy with lust and with the feeling of giving over to this man I called Sir.
I spread my legs, my knees trembling as I prepared for another strike of stinging, incredible pain.
“Wider,” he growled. I gulped, trying to remember to breathe as my mind began to go blank with any thought but him. Him and his commands.
