Chapter 9 #2
“I see you found my web after all,” comes Riven’s voice from the shadows, deep and amused.
I twist, trying to see him, but the movement just makes me sway gently in my suspended state. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”
“No?” He emerges from the darkness, each of his eight legs moving in perfect, silent coordination. In this light, with me hanging helpless before him, he looks entirely monstrous, all gleaming exoskeleton and alien angles. “You specified web, not design. I thought I’d try something new.”
He circles me slowly, and I can feel all six of his eyes examining every inch of my suspended form. The pajama top has slipped further, exposing most of my ribs, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m completely and utterly vulnerable, but all that does is send a pulse straight between my legs.
“How does it feel?” he asks, his voice silky and low.
“Disorienting,” I admit. “But… not bad.”
“Blood rushing to your head?” A cool finger traces along my exposed cheek. “Your skin is flushed.”
“That might not be just from hanging upside down,” I manage to say, and he makes a sound that’s halfway between a purr and a growl.
“I wasn’t sure if I understood your hint correctly,” he says, continuing his slow circuit around me.
“Humans are so indirect with their desires. But I thought that if you were to deliberately walk into a web, that was a very clear form of consent.” He stops directly in front of me, bending down so we’re face to face. “Was I correct in my analysis?”
Looking into his multiple yellow eyes from this position is disorienting, but I manage a smile. “Top marks for interpretation.”
“Good.” He straightens, and I see silk beginning to flow from his wrists, glimmering in the moonlight. “Because I’ve been thinking about how to improve the experience since our first encounter.”
I swallow hard, watching as the silk forms into delicate but strong strands between his fingers. “Improve how?”
“The first time was rushed. Improvised.” His voice drops lower, becoming almost hypnotic. “Tonight, I intend to take my time. I intend to be… thorough.”
The word makes me gulp. Because if that first time wasn’t his definition of thorough… Jesus.
“I’ve been studying human anatomy,” he continues, beginning to move the silk toward me. “Pressure points. Nerve clusters. Areas of heightened sensitivity.”
“That’s very dedicated of you,” I manage to say, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I’m a quick study.” The first strand of silk touches my wrist, cool and impossibly soft. “And I believe in proper research.”
With surprising gentleness, he begins to wrap the silk around my wrist, securing it outward from my body.
He works methodically, wrapping and binding until my arm is completely extended and immobilized.
The silk is so fine it feels like being wrapped in mist, but when I test it with a slight pull, it holds firm.
“Is this okay?” he asks, pausing before starting on my other arm.
The question is so unexpectedly considerate that I feel a surge of affection beneath the arousal. “Yes,” I say softly. “It’s perfect.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied, and begins binding my other arm. I watch, mesmerized, as his hands work with precise, delicate movements. For a creature his size, his dexterity is something else.
“You’re very good at this,” I observe.
“Natural talent,” he says. “Enhanced by decades of practice. Though never with prey I didn’t intend to eat… You are my first object of this sort of desire.”
The simple admission only excites me more. He finishes securing my other arm, and now I’m fully spread, with my arms extended outward and legs held together above me, exposed and at his mercy.
Riven steps back to admire his work, and I’ve never felt more like prey in my life. His posture has shifted, becoming more predatorial, more alien. In this moment, there’s nothing human about him. He’s pure spider, and I’m caught in his web.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, and the word holds a weight of satisfaction that makes me shiver.
I should be terrified. Everything about this situation—being bound, helpless, at the mercy of a creature designed by evolution to hunt and capture—should trigger every survival instinct I possess.
Instead, I’m flooded with a desire so intense it’s almost painful.
“What now?” I ask, my voice coming out as a whisper.
Riven moves closer and reaches to tenderly brush hair away from my face. “Now,” he says, “I learn exactly what you like. What makes you respond. What makes you…” His voice drops to a growl. “…Surrender. The first time… It was rushed. It was instinctual. Now, I will put much more thought into it.”
He produces more silk, finer than before, and begins creating an intricate pattern around me.
It’s not just restraint—it’s art. The strands shimmer as they form a complex web with me at the center.
He works with the focus of a master craftsman, occasionally pausing to adjust my position with gentle touches that leave fire in their wake.
He pauses after a moment, stepping back to admire his work.
“You are the most precious thing I have ever caught,” he says with simple sincerity, and my heart nearly stops.
Before I can respond, he releases a mechanism I didn’t notice even existed, and I’m slowly rotated until I’m upright and no longer upside down. The movement is so controlled, so careful, that I barely feel it happening, my arms and legs still bound in his perfect silk.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod, relieved to have the blood no longer rushing to my head. In this position, I can see him properly: all twelve imposing feet of him, mandibles slightly parted, exoskeleton gleaming.
He’s terrifying. He’s beautiful. And I’m his to do whatever he wants to.
“I’ve been thinking about this since you first left,” he admits, moving to stand closer. “About having you like this again. Completely at my mercy.”
“So have I,” I confess, and his mandibles click with pleasure.
“Good.” His hand moves down to trace my collarbone, then lower, to the edge of the pajama top that’s ridden up to expose my stomach. “These are in the way.”
His fingers immediately hook into the waistband of the pajama pants and pull.
The sound of tearing silk fills the room as the garment splits cleanly down both sides, falling away.
His hands move to the pajama top next, and with the same controlled strength, he tears it open from neckline to hem.
The silk falls away, leaving me in nothing but my panties, completely exposed in his intricate web.
“Much better,” he says with satisfaction.
I should feel vulnerable, embarrassed, exposed. Instead, I feel something else. I feel… at peace. In good hands. Safe.
The way he’s looking at me—like I’m the most fascinating, desirable creature he’s ever caught—makes me feel powerful in my own vulnerability. It’s so strange, yet I feel more myself in this moment of complete surrender than I ever have before.
“Now,” he says, producing more of that impossibly fine silk, “let’s see what happens when I do this…”