Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Emmy
He returned carrying his bag, which wasn’t the same bag I’d snooped through. He’d tossed that bag almost immediately because it smelled like smoke but fortunately, the contents hadn’t absorbed it.
I crawled to the end of the bed and peeked over the edge, watching as he unzipped the bag and started unpacking it.
The rope first, on top. I knew now it was made out of jute and he had rope that was natural as well as some dyed black, dark blue, and purple.
He laid the coils out neatly, almost pathologically so. “That’s a fireman thing, isn’t it?” I snarked.
He glanced up, grinning. “The instructor in my first basic rope class noted the same thing, said I must be a firefighter.”
I snorted.
Five minutes later it was all laid out and my gaze kept landing on the small, blue acrylic paddle.
He noticed, picked it up, and handed it to me. “Try it.”
“On myself?”
He grinned. “Certainly not on me. Besides, I smacked myself with it when I bought it so I know what it feels like. Purchased everything from the Ranch, except some of the rope, and a couple of the books.”
I pulled up my left sleeve and lightly swatted my arm with it. Stingy, but not as horrible as I imagined it could be were it wielded with a heavier hand.
Although I wasn’t hitting myself with it very hard.
He braced his arms on the footboard and leaned in. “If someone wants orgasms, someone better get naked, baby. And go to the bathroom.”
Oooh, that’s me! I jumped out of bed and quickly stripped—yep, panties damp—and when I returned, the armoire on the other side of the room, which I really hadn’t paid any attention to, either, stood open and my mouth went dry.
Holy… crap!
I cautiously approached. “Uh, what the fuck is all of that?”
He stepped aside so I could see. “All the rooms have one, plus there are others scattered around the complex. We’re free to use—or even buy if we want—everything in here. Some things are single-use and others we can just drop in that bag there and the staff will take them and clean them.”
“It’s a mini-bar for sadists,” I muttered, still staring.
Yes, I knew what most—well, some—of the items were for, but seeing them all there, available and not needing to endure the embarrassment of walking into an “adult store” to obtain them was…
Wow.
He reached in and withdrew a set of plain, black, leather cuffs. Considering there were four of them, two larger than the others, I assumed ankles and wrists. “Would you be okay wearing these?”
I took them from him. They were much softer than I first thought, made of smooth, supple leather.
“I thought we were doing rope?”
“We are, but for tonight I want to go easy and not do a complicated tie. If I use these on you, I can release you much more quickly than if I tie you just with rope.”
He didn’t need to draw me pictures—in case I freaked out. And I did not want him to have to cut his ropes, even though I knew he would without hesitation. “Okay.” I eyed other items on the same shelf these came from. “I don’t think I’m ready to try a collar yet, though.”
He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. “Good girl.”
“I’m not complaining, but what did I just do to earn that?”
“You spoke up and told me a limit.”
“Not very sexy of me.”
“Sexier than me needing to cut you free because you panic and then me worrying about you for future scenes that you might not speak up and tell me.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Training wheels?”
He smiled. “Training wheels.”
He let me pick things out of his implements to use on me, and I picked just the blue paddle. And a couple of vibrators from the armoire.
He grinned as he examined the small clit-sucker. “That’s fucking ingenious.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been wanting to get one and see what all the fuss is about.” I stretched. “And I’m open to pretty much anything but anal tonight. Maybe another night, but I’m not in the mood for it.”
Again he pulled me in and kissed me. “Good girl,” he whispered.
I shivered. “If you don’t get me on that bed soon, you’re going to need Housekeeping to bring a mop and a ‘wet floor’ sign.”
He roared with laughter, scooping me up in his arms and dropping me on the bed. I loved laughing with him, making him laugh.
Laughing.
Didn’t know that was a fetish but as long as it didn’t involve being tickled I guess it wasn’t the weirdest thing.
When he puts the first ankle cuff on me, I commented. “Did you mean to leave it that loose?”
“I did. Tonight is purely play and exploring.”
“Ah. Carry on, Sir.”
The other three cuffs went on, the wrist cuffs so loose I could pull my hands free if I reverse-fisted them.
Then he pushed me back onto the bed and picked up one of the coils of natural jute, He watched me as he unwrapped it, letting the loose coils drape over my flesh.
Funny how the world suddenly contracted to this sexy, safe bubble, me staring into his eyes as he ran the rope all over my flesh, gooseflesh rippling in his wake from how good it felt. He leaned over me, his lips just above mine. “Arms up, baby.”
I almost accidentally punched him I moved so fast, but he laughed as he caught my hand, kissed it, and then started looping the rope around the bedpost and through the D-ring on the cuff.
I also recognized the quick-release knot he used on the bedpost, plus there was enough slack in the rope I could move my arms.
He tied my other arm but left my ankles free for now. That’s when I noticed he wasn’t naked yet, although his cock looked like it was trying to punch a hole in his shorts.
“Are you going to strip, Sir?”
“Eventually.” He climbed onto the bed and laid the blue paddle on my tummy. I flinched a little at the cold, but it quickly warmed.
Jack stretched out beside me, propped on his left elbow and began trailing the fingers of his right hand from the hollow at the base of my throat, down between my breasts, and to my mound—which thank god for phone reminders that I shaved that morning, keeping a short landing strip down the center.
He hadn’t asked me to do it but I liked to keep the cooter landscaped and I’d been remiss in that area lately.
“My girl will go to sleep tonight a very happy girl, but you will say yellow or red if you need to. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And if I ask for a color and you’re fine, say green.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And I want your eyes on me.” His fingers traveled to my left nipple and lightly grazed it, making me squirm. “Not tonight,” he said, “but probably before we leave we’ll experiment with nipple clamps.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Not the meanest ones.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He teased my nipple, gently rolling it between his fingers, tugging on it, working me into a frenzy before moving to my right nipple and repeating the treatment.
I wasn’t used to this, to maintaining eye contact so close, so long, so intimately.
He watched me closely, no doubt mentally compiling a detailed list of my every reaction for his future reference.
“They say it’s easy to rewire someone’s brain to crave pain with pleasure,” he softly said. “Would you like to experiment with that?”
My mouth went dry—it did that a lot around him, and I was not a woman used to being at a loss for words. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He kissed me and sat up, moving between my legs and pushing them apart and back so he could kneel there. He picked up the paddle and the vibrators and settled in, smiling up at me. “This time, baby, you don’t need permission to come, although you might be begging me to stop coming.”
Ohhhh fuuuudge.
The first slow, long swipe of his tongue up and then along my clit, circling it, lightly flicking it, made me jerk against my bonds because I wanted to grab his head and shove it in there and ride his mouth.
Probably a good thing he tied me up, although if he teased me too long I might pull loose and do just that.
He’d propped pillows under my head so I could watch him and there was a spicy, sadistic glee painted across his features when I whined and squirmed.
“Oh, we’ll be here for a while, baby,” he said, his breath warm against my clit. “I’ve been dreaming of doing this to you.”
Shiiiiiiitttttt!
Whatever it was he was doing to me, it slammed into my brain that I’d truly hit the lotto.
I’d never had a guy go down on me so thoroughly, like he savored it, drawing it out.
Joe had been decent at it but even I could tell it was more a means to an end for him, not something he really wanted to do, but felt obligated to.
Not Jack. The only bad thing about his technique was how spookily he’d tuned in to my body’s responses and kept me at just enough of a simmer I couldn’t get over.
Over and over again.
I think I started speaking in tongues at one point. It hadn’t even registered that he’d started lightly swatting the outsides of my thighs, first one, then the other, back and forth, pleasantly stingy in the way it feels good to scratch an itch.
And every time he started coaxing me back up that hill again, the swats increased in strength, making the pleasure that much more.
Still, he stopped, backing me down, until I begged, twisting my hips trying to maintain contact with that perfect fucking mouth of his even as he continued swatting me with the paddle.
I was near tears, desperate, when he sat up and pushed my legs up and back, pinning them against my chest with his left arm.
I couldn’t see what he was doing but he watched my face intently—
And then the universe exploded.
Later, I learned it was the clit sucker. But I hoped the rooms really were soundproofed or they might think he was murdering me.
Note to self, might need to buy a ball-gag so Lilah didn’t strangle us.
I struggled and twisted as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted me, all while he smacked the backs of my thighs and my ass. His weight pressed me into the mattress and he relentlessly smiled down at me as I came and came and came.
“Good girl,” he said just as I was about to call yellow, but it was like those two words energized me, flipping everything around in my body as I whined and whimpered and found myself trying to angle my ass so he could have a better target.
Because… yeah.
I guess at some point I finally safeworded because the clit sucker immediately disappeared and he eased my legs down to the bed, stretching out against me again with one arm draped over me and kissing me, telling me over and over again how proud he was of me.
Well, damn. He better not turn out to be a douchebag because, if he did, I’d have to become a nun or something.
And I wasn’t even the slightest bit religious.