20. Rules are not meant to be broken yet here we are
TWENTY
RULES ARE NOT MEANT TO BE brOKEN YET HERE WE ARE
T he door bangs against the wall as it swings open to reveal the intimate setting inside the room. Bright light might illuminate the space, but the low sultry music and the mattresses on the floor in a circle create a closeness between each pairing.
I don’t need to search for Vanessa. My eyes collide with hers which are wide and surprised, shining with excitement. Ropes are already tied around her hips and I suppress a groan.
I know she doesn’t have many friends or spend a lot of time outside of the pool house. I know because I’ve watched too many times, attuned to her every move. I should be ashamed of robbing her of a chance to connect with someone new, someone who can offer her what she might desire in life. But she’s a precious jewel, and it seems I’ve turned into a dragon hoarding her for himself.
“Lino,” Milo welcomes me with a creased brow. “What can I do for you tonight?”
Without a word, I walk to where Vanessa is standing, the rope already tied around her waist, beckoning me to her like the thread of hemp is a link between us.
“I’ll assist Vanessa.”
She takes a sharp inhale and coughs before stuttering unintelligibly. “That’s not… I mean… No… I…”
I silence her by giving a pointed tug to the rope around her waist. “I insist. Milo needs to check on everyone. Don’t you, Milo?”
My eyes never stray from her and when the shock dissipates, fire replaces it behind her chestnut irises. Our bodies are so close I can feel the heat of her skin and the rise and fall of her chest, heaving with what feels like anger.
“You have no fucking right!” she whisper-yells.
Of course, I have no right. But I can’t carry on with my evening as images of her writhing body underneath Milo’s flood my brain. I have no hope of finding pleasure with someone if I know that she’s here, discovering something that’s integral to who I am. With someone who isn’t me.
My jaw clenches, and I give her the truth. “I know.”
I can’t look into her eyes as I untie and re-tie the rope around her hips, in preparation for the simple ladder knot sequence Milo is showing everyone. My fingers don’t touch her. I haven’t earned that privilege yet. “Jade mentioned you were here. And alone. And I… Milo trained me. I can be your partner for tonight. If you’ll have me,” I surmise.
Her tense body relaxes, her shoulders dropping, her brow softening. I meet her gaze then, ready to leave if she just says the word.
Vanessa’s head tilts to the side as she studies me, worrying her bottom lip. I swallow at the sight and drop my gaze to where my hands hold the rope, where it’s safe.
“Okay,” she says eventually and lets her arms fall to her sides. “Be gentle. It’s my first time.”
My eyes drop shut at the innocuous sentence, a groan stuck in my chest. I clear my throat and lower to my knees in front of her as I start to wrap and bind the rope around her naked legs. I try and fail not to focus on how soft she feels underneath my fingertips.
“Feel the rope around your body,” Milo instructs everyone. “And for those tying, check in with your partner and have fun with your knots. This is all about exploration today.”
When I look up at Vanessa, her eyes are already fixated on me. They move to where my hands hold her thighs, where my fingers thread the rope, before coming back to land on my face. It’s like she can’t decide where to look, greedy with the sight before her.
I bloom under her attention, studying her face for hints of discomfort, but all I see is a calm smile and serene features.
“It’s quite similar to yoga,” she says in a low voice, destined only to reach my ears.
“How so?”
“In yoga, we observe the sensations in the body throughout our practice. It’s all about awareness. This is similar. You tie, and I can let go of that part and just feel the pressure of the ropes against my legs.”
I bind the second rope to the first to continue my descent towards her ankles, the flesh peaking through each line in the most delightful way. My movements are controlled but my breathing is ragged. If only she could keep talking. Her soft voice lulls me to a state of calm I’ve rarely experienced before, quieting the dark thoughts.
I want her to tell me how she feels, what she feels. I need her to share that experience with me. Maybe I’m not so defective after all if I’m able to have this connection with her without trying. Though I know I’ve already pushed my luck today. I just can’t seem to stay away anymore.
“Tell me how it feels,” I command, then grimace.
“So bossy.” She clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes but obeys nonetheless, and my lips tip up of their own accord. The sensation is strange. “It feels like a weighted blanket, but all over my legs,” she says, her voice breathy like she’s whispering a secret. “There isn’t a part of them that doesn’t feel the pressure of the ropes. I was expecting them to be uncomfortable, but the way you distribute pressure over all points is very… nice, I guess.”
That’s not the word she wanted to use. I could bet on it, but I don’t press her for more. Anything she gives me fills me with pride and a sense of accomplishment I want to hold on to for a while longer.
“I feel as though I can breathe better and fully relax, which isn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I ask, lifting my hands to hover over the ropes and Vanessa’s skintight azure yoga shorts as I admire my handiwork and the way her body accepts the ropes.
I get ensnared in her trusting eyes and lift myself up, our bodies so close they could touch with a deep breath. The air around methickens and changes, setting my skin on fire. The rest of the group disappears until there’s only the two of us left inside the bubble of our own making. My eyes drop to her lips, wet and plump from where she just licked them.
“Tell me”, I plead.
“I… expected to feel only…”
“Only what?”
She swallows, then pushes her shoulders back as though readying herself for what comes next. Good girl.
“I expected to feel only arousal. Desire.”
I don’t realise my hands have settled on her hips and my thumbs are tracing circles over the fabric of her shorts, but I don’t stop. “Bondage isn’t always about sex.”
“But it can be?” she asks, a hint of what sounds like hope and curiosity in her soft voice.
This is going too far, but I can’t seem to stop.
“Yes . It can be,” I tell her, the weight of what’s left unsaid heavy between us.
Her pupils dilate to black pools, and I curse myself for being so careless, so stupid. She isn’t meant for me and I’m robbing her of something precious she could be having with someone special, not her boss.
Milo claps his hands together, and I almost jump, the shock of the sound breaking our connection. The look he gives me, with a raised eyebrow and his infamous smirk, tells me he didn’t miss what transpired between Vanessa and I.
I untie her legs before we proceed with the upper body demonstration. We don’t speak or look at each other again. I can feel her eyes on me as I tie, but when I look up, she averts her gaze. My cock strains against the fabric of my pressed pants when she lets out soft sighs that she barely seems to be aware of. She’s reacting so beautifully. Every knot looks good on her skin, her bare arms and back bearing the impact of the ropes with pretty pink marks that have me close to blowing in my pants like a teenager.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a new-to-bondage play partner and the way she relaxes and trusts me with her body makes me want to make it so good for her, to give her everything she asks just so it can be memorable for her.
When Milo announces the end of the workshop, I come back to my senses and step back.
I drive us home in awkward silence, Vanessa fidgeting next to me like she can’t wait to get out of the car. When we pass the entrance gate of my home, I park and leave her with an unsatisfactory, “See you tomorrow”. Rejection lines her face, but I don’t stop walking until I’m in my living room, wondering what the hell I just did.
“Had a good night?” my father asks, amusement lacing his every word.
I don’t give him an answer, but his knowing eyes follow me through the kitchen as I pour myself a glass of ice-cold water, hoping to cool myself down. It doesn’t work.
“Say hi to Vivi for us,” are his parting words, thrown casually with a wink.
The last thing I need is for my father to tell my meddlesome mother that he saw me come back home with Vanessa. She’ll get ideas. The wrong ones. Like she can find me someone who will tolerate me enough and love my kids like I love them. A headache forms at my temples and I sit, rubbing at them with my elbows on my knees. Nothing that transpired tonight is like me, and I need to take back control.
Apologising to her might be a first step. I crashed her workshop and left her tonight without an explanation. Boundaries need to be reinstated and re-defined. We work together. We participated in the same platonic workshop. I did not wonder what she would look like in my ropes, naked and begging to be filled while hanging from the ceiling of my bedroom.
I take the baby monitors with me and march to the pool house. This should only take a few minutes. Anxiety ripples deep in my gut, but my mind is set on this. I can make it quick and painless for the both of us, then be back within a short distance of my children in three minutes.
The curtains are drawn but light filters through telling me that Vanessa is still up. I wonder if sleep escapes her like it would me if I even tried to close my eyes.
I stop in front of the door, taking deep breaths and rehearsing my little speech. My hand rises to knock, but a sound stops me in my tracks. I’m frozen in place, fist raised, heart thumping like a drum inside my rib cage.
My ears strain to hear it again.
And I do.
A low moan.
Unmistakable.
Intimate and delicious.
Not intended for me.
I should turn around. I should leave my employee to her… nighttime routine. And not listen like a perverted creep. And I’m about to do it when Vanessa whimpers my name in between intakes of breaths, hinting towards her impending orgasm.
I stay rooted in place, cock hard and aching, leaking at the tip. Her moans grow louder and I move to leave, realising that the curtains on the North-facing window are wide open, giving me the perfect view of Vanessa fingering herself on her couch. On my couch.
She wears the thinnest and shortest night gown known to man, lifted at her hips to give her better access to her weeping pussy. Her hand fondles her breasts, and the other is buried deep in her cunt as she bounces up and down on her fingers. I wouldn’t be able to tell which colour is the fabric if someone held a gun to my head. I’m riveted to the look of pleasure on her face, the way her chest flushes as she tilts her head back with loud moans.
I don’t think she can see me. I’m veiled in the shadow of the night, and she’s illuminated with the glow of the side lamp like a goddess on a stage, but when she lifts her head, our eyes meet. The heat of her gaze burns me to ashes until I’m born a new man. A man who’ll devour her whole because it’s my name on her lips as she finds her pleasure.
Instead of shying away and yelling with distress, her rhythm picks up. Without a thought, I give her a reassuring nod and keep watch as she shatters around her fingers, calling out for me again. It’s faint, coming through the walls of the house, but it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
She collapses, dropping her head in between her shoulders, and it’s my cue to leave. Arousal and the need to come will make you do foolish things. I can’t stay here. She’s going to regret what just happened and I can’t have her quit. She would have every reason to. Tonight has been mistake after mistake on my part. The children need her too much.
I need her too much.
And if I don’t leave now, I’m bound to do something I’d regret, like knock her door open to ask her for a repeat performance.