34. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Darcy
I scan the space that has informally become my play area. Tucked into the corner closest to the bedroom, here I can find my peace among my ropes. Along both walls of my space is a rainbow waterfall of hemp and silk, hanging from a thin bamboo bar attached to the ceiling and falling to the floor.
There is a larger, thicker bamboo bar that hangs from the center of the space, which I use for partial- and full-body suspension. The smooth finish of the bar allows for the easy shifting of the rope as I manipulate the bound sub. But, today, it won’t be a part of the scene.
Derek may think he owns the space in our little group for orgasm denial, but edging is my world. However, today is about introducing Emmy to shibari—the Japanese art of rope bondage. Then maybe, in the future, we can play with some more orgasm denial. Between Hudson and myself, Emmy will learn to either love-to-hate or hate-to-love our scenes.
Stepping back from the custom-designed wooden chair—the binding prop for today’s scene—I do a final check of the rest of the area to make sure everything is where I want it to be.
The chair is in the center of the space. With the way I have the back positioned on a slight incline, and with barely any seat available, Emmy will have to give herself over to the bindings to maintain the position I’m going to put her in. If she doesn’t, every muscle in her body will be screaming at her tomorrow.
Hudson is sitting on a rolling stool by my cabinet of play things, ready for the scene in just his jeans. On top of the cabinet are the safety sheers and the toy I plan to use on Emmy.
Heavy, low acoustic music fills the apartment as we wait for her to come out of the bedroom. I sent her to shower and use the bathroom after breakfast because, once our scene starts, the only way it will end is if she uses a safe word and I cut her free—or when I say the scene is over.
I’m praying it’s the latter.
Xavier and Derek left shortly after breakfast, leaving the three of us alone. Just like yesterday, we have pre-organized everything. Hudson is helping me with my scene, and Derek will be helping Xavier.
Hopefully, Xavier’s scene won’t be a stumbling block for us.
The air shifts, and I turn to face Emmy as she peers around the bedroom doorframe, trepidation pulling her features tight. My timid princess is back.
Smiling, I hold my hand out to her. “Come here, princess.”
Just like every other time I’ve called her princess , her cheeks pinken and my chest tightens. Fuck, I hope she enjoys this. Everything so far says she will. She enjoys being restrained, restricted, held down, so it isn’t a leap to think she will like being bound.
She slips out from behind the door and, as requested, is wearing the short silver robe we purchased for her and nothing else. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, the whole thing looking like it will overflow at any second, which works nicely for my plan.
By the end of this scene, I want her to be wrecked.
I close my hand around her smaller one as she laces our fingers together and pull her into my arms and press a kiss to her forehead. Emmy melts against me, and I hope she can’t hear the way my heart is beating heavily in my chest.
Scenes don’t normally make me nervous.
But every other scene hasn’t had my potential future weighing down on it.
This one needs to go perfectly.
I force myself to ease up and pull back from her. I can’t go into this scene worried about its outcome. It will be what it will be. We can figure it out after everything is over, and if it doesn’t go well, then we can try to find a compromise. If she wants to.
Fuck.
Enough of that.
Head in the scene.
As Emmy looks up at me, I stare back and slow my breathing. She needs to know she can trust me to look after her and give her exactly what she needs when I say she needs it. This nervous shit that is going on with me has to go.
Slowly, I let go. Of the worry. The hope.
Nothing matters other than right now, this very minute. And then the next. There is nothing outside of this ten-by-ten space but the three of us, the chair, and the ropes. Everything else is just noise.
Emmy blinks, then lowers her eyes from mine and, fuck, seeing her react to the change within me is something else.
I tip her chin up with a knuckle. “Have you ever experienced shibari?”
Chin still resting on my knuckle, she shakes her head, eyes downcast. “No, Daddy.”
“Besides the restraints we have used on you, have you ever been tied up?”
She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, Daddy.”
I clench my jaw as a spike of lust shoots through me. The confirmation that my ropes will be the first that wrap around her skin shakes the mental bars that I just locked around my hope. While this not unexpected piece of knowledge buoys me, it also pains me to know that she won’t be the first sub to be bound by my ropes.
However, that is a problem to work through another time.
Releasing the hold I have on her chin, I turn her to face the chair and gesture at it. With gentle pressure on her lower back, I guide her the few steps toward the chair. “I’ll be restraining you to this chair using some of the ropes hanging on the wall behind you.”
“Can I pick the color?”
The question catches me off guard. I can’t think of a time that a sub has asked to select the rope.
I glance over at Hudson, and he smirks back at me.
Fucker.
“If I allowed you to pick, what colors would you choose?” My throat feels scratchy, making it rougher, as heat pools at the bottom of my spine.
She doesn’t even hesitate before raising her arm to the wall of ropes. “That dark blue. And the black.”
I follow her gaze to the silk wall and see that she is pointing at the royal blue and the black a few lines down. My eyebrow quirks upward. “Why?”
Her hand comes up to her mouth, and she bites down on the tender flesh on the side of her thumb. It’s something I’ve noticed she does when she is unsure of her answer. Or how we will react to her answer.
I remain quiet. It’s a simple question, and she will share the answer, but the longer she fails to answer, the more uncomfortable she will feel when she does. Clearly, her answer embarrasses her. She probably didn’t think I was going to call her on it.
She will need to learn that we will question everything. We will want to know everything that is going on inside of her mind so that we know her better than she knows herself. We’ll swap information like trading cards. Nothing will be off limits. It’ll help us understand her state of mind and to ensure that she is never anything but comfortable and safe in our presence—emotionally, at least.
“It’s the closest color combination to your eyes.”
The words are said barely loud enough to be heard over the music, but I do hear them. And, fuck, I can’t say no to that. Knowing she has picked a color that will leave her secured with something she associates with me is…
My cock hardens as an image of her, wrecked, hair falling free, bound to the chair with the blue of my eyes, pussy open and used, cum covering her flesh, flashes into my mind.
That. I want that.
“Take off your robe.” Voice even gruffer, I order her into the beginning of my scene.
She jumps at the harshness of my voice, but I don’t apologize. I want her on edge. I want her worried and a little nervous. Ready to please. It’s my way of making sure everything stays pleasant and pleasurable. The ropes won’t cause her any pain today—maybe some discomfort, but no pain. Today, she will simply be at my mercy.
Emmy turns and unties the sash around her waist, allowing the fabric to part down the center, exposing her to us. Hudson holds out his hand and, after she shrugs out of the gown, she gives it to him, neither of them saying a word.
Unless required, he won’t say anything to her.
Hudson is only here to observe, play, and fill her pussy. And, only if required, help me cut her free.
She stands before us, naked, eyes aimed at the floor.
I leave her there, waiting. Nervous. On display. Unsure of what comes next.
It doesn’t take long for her to start to fidget. First her fingers, then her feet. Eventually, she raises her arms to cover her body, but I can’t have that.
“Freeze.”
Her arms pause in place, crooked at the elbow, awkwardly hanging around her hips.
“Do not cover yourself up. I want to see what we have paid thirty-thousand dollars for.”
Her stomach tenses, and a red flush starts on her neck, but she slowly lowers her arms. Her breathing increases as my words turn her from a human being to an object that can be bought.
I leave her waiting, my cock growing harder the more I watch her fight her inner battle.
“Turn around and bend over. Put your palms on the armrests of the chair. Thrust your ass out and show us your holes.”
Emmy’s feet shuffle in place as she slowly turns like a doll in a jewelry box. Bending from the hips, she tips forward, exposing her ass and pussy to us. There are still a few marks remaining across the back of her thighs and over her cheeks from Derek’s scene yesterday.
And there are a few circular bruises over both globes, presumably from where someone squeezed a little too hard. Well, too hard for someone who might not enjoy the pain of being gripped like that. Luckily, Emmy has proved several times since our first meeting that she likes it on the tighter side.
Her pussy has lost the pink, puffy, overused look it was sporting last night. And while there isn’t any glistening wetness yet, there will be plenty covering her entrance and thighs by the time I am done with her. My balls are aching already as I think about sinking into that pussy again, but not yet. Not for a while. Not until Emmy is barely coherent from denied pleasure.
Quietly, I walk around until I come to her side and crouch down so that her face is slightly above mine. She makes eye contact, cheeks still a rosy pink. “I had this chair custom made.”
I slip my hand under one of the padded armrests she is gripping and place my palm down on the shortened seat. The back of the chair starts at what would normally be the middle of the seat, then reclines back on a slight angle, with a padded cushion down the center. “If you trust the ropes, it’s designed for your comfort, while giving me all the access I need.”
In demonstration, I palm one of her breasts, the weight filling my hand easily. I massage the flesh, then tweak the nipple, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. “This scene is going to take yesterday’s car ride home to the next level. How does that sound, princess? Are you going to let me drive you insane? Will you be a good girl for me?”
Emmy’s breathing quickens and her mouth parts. “Yes, Daddy. Please. I want that. I want to be good for you.”
I tweak her nipple again. “Good girl, princess. Turn around and sit down for me.”
We both move at the same time, her turning to take a seat and me to get the rope she requested. I’ll need more than the two lengths she selected, but that’s okay. I can include a lighter blue as well, to help with the shadowing effect I prefer.
Gently, I pull the midnight blue rope free, coiling it in my hand so that it doesn’t fall to the floor. The silk ropes are smooth compared to the hemp, and I slowly slip them between my fingers, feeling every ridge of the twisted threads.
From the first time I watched a non-sexual shibari demonstration, I’ve been hooked. The intricate designs, patterns, and sculpted shapes that can be made called to the artist in me, and I’d immediately found a mentor. A decade later, and I’m still in love with ropes. Now, I find myself in the mentoring position more often than not, guiding couples through beginner to advanced ties.
Tonight, I have my very own partner to concentrate on.
I set down the rope on top of the cabinet and check in with Hudson. His arms are folded over his chest, and he is slightly slumped in place. I smirk. It must be killing him to sit still like this. When he sees me enjoying his discomfort, he subtly gives me the finger so that Emmy can’t see.
Dropping my grin, I turn and go back to Emmy, stopping in front of where she is awkwardly perched, posture almost perfectly straight in order to balance on the tiny amount of seat available, and place my hand on her shoulder. Her big hazel eyes are fixed on mine as I coax her to recline back until the chair supports her. I arrange each of her arms on the padded rests so that her fingers curl over the ends, then spread her knees so that her calves touch the legs of the chair, once again leaving her spread open for our viewing.
When I am satisfied with her positioning, I stand and turn my back on her as I go back for the rope. “No moving, princess, okay? I want you to hold this position for me. No matter what.”
She starts to respond, but my last words make her freeze for a fraction of a second. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Remind me of your safe words.”
“Green is good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop,” she recalls, her voice showing no sign of hesitation.
“It is really important to me that you use them, princess. If you feel tingling or a pinch that is more than a seven out of ten on the pain scale, or if you feel faint or breathless, use your safe words. Ropes are not supposed to be painful. Discomforting, yes. But painful, no. Especially in this position and during this scene.” I pick up the safety shears and show her the angled blades with the protective rounded tip. “I’m going to be doing a relatively simple body tie. It will restrict your movements, and you may feel uncomfortable at first. Uncomfortable—to a point—is fine. Red will instantly have you cut free. These are called safety shears and will have you free within minutes.”
Her gaze drops from my face to the shears in my hand before raising her eyes back to mine. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll use my safe words. I promise.”
The squeak of the rolling chair comforts me. Hudson is affected as much as I am by her words. Knowing that she takes her own safety seriously is a massive weight off our shoulders. If we can trust her to tell us something isn’t working or hurts in a non-fun way, then the options we have to explore with her are endless.
“Do you have any questions?” I ask as I swap the shears for the rope.
Emmy’s eyes widen as I turn back and walk around behind her. “N-no, Daddy.”
Perfect. “Good girl.”