Chapter 13 Upline Tension
Upline Tension
As he worked to build Mal's suspension with Darren, Miles couldn't help but think that the red-dyed rope was undeniably attractive with her tanned skin and dark hair.
The modified box tie suited her as well.
The extra line above her breasts and around her arms made an attractive diamond across her chest as he began to connect it to the lower one in the middle, lifting and separating her small, pert breasts.
Like Darren, he let his fingers smooth over her skin and the rope intentionally, smiling at the way it made her sigh in pleasure.
Darren had one knee bound to the rig by the time he was done, her ankle bound to her ass. He paused to check Miles's ties carefully, giving silent approval with a nod and a smile that warmed him to his core.
Of course, he let Darren take the lead. Even if he'd felt confident, he didn't know nearly enough about being on the giving end of suspensions to make any decisions about what they were doing.
But Darren explained what he was doing quietly and simply, guiding Miles through creating a secondary upline and adjusting the first so Mal's upper body hung lower.
It gave Miles a new appreciation of how masterful Darren was with him, rigging him so effortlessly, so that he could let go.
Mal's relaxation and arousal went beautifully hand in hand.
The woman let her head fall back, dark hair cascading to the floor.
Her breath was slow and deep, but her skin was flushed, nipples dark and hard.
Miles didn't miss the slight, slow rhythm of tension and relaxation in her thighs as they bound them higher.
He knew that well, too, how good Darren's special little knots between her thighs would feel, stimulating her in the most teasing, torturous way.
Surely they must feel even better with a woman's sensitivity.
She moaned softly as Darren shifted her hips higher, clearly finding more sensation as the ropes shifted and tightened.
"Do a hand check for me, love?" Darren asked, and Miles knelt without question, checking her pulse and blood flow.
They'd spent the entire class going through ways to assess and modify the classic box tie for different bodies, needs, and safer use.
Darren never tied anything less than three main bands around the torso, and had impressed seriously on all the riggers that it was their responsibility to check circulation and possible nerve compression constantly.
Having experienced the dreamy rapture of deep subspace in ropes, Miles understood easily why it would be unsafe to rely solely on one's sub to communicate issues.
"I'm good," Mal sighed, dreamy and breathless. "I'm so good, Sirs...."
"You are," Miles agreed, stroking her arm. "You're doing very good, little bunny."
Praising and reassuring her felt good. The experience was even arousing in its own way. It was nearly impossible to be around Darren and not feel some degree of want, of course, especially when his husband was in his element.
He examined his feelings as he rose and let Darren walk him through changing another of the uplines, pulling Mal's bound knee so high it almost brushed the top of the rig.
It felt good to enjoy Mal's pleasure. It felt good to help give that to her, even if he had no desire to transform that into physical intimacy.
But perhaps, if he was pleasing Darren, if his husband ordered him to do more, maybe even put his fingers in her. .. that could be nice.
Dare he suggest it? She didn't fit what they were looking for, of course. Not a couple - Mal kept a small, passionately kinky polycule - and Miles hadn't considered whether said couple could possibly include a woman.
Mal gave another soft groan, muscles tightening, grinding more intentionally against the rope between her thighs. The red had grown darker with arousal where it pressed between her lips. A shuddering sigh escaped her throat, breath ragged.
Darren dropped to one knee, caressing lightly along the edges of the ropes that bound her small breasts.
"Soothe her flanks?" He offered Miles softly, before turning his attention fully to her.
"Our ropes have put you in quite a way, little bunny.
Shall I have one of your devotees come serve your pleasure? "
It took Mal a moment to answer, shifting in her bonds with a long roll of her hips. "No. No, Sirs. Not yet. I... it's so good...."
The way she basically purred as Miles ran his fingers up her flanks and along the side of her breast was deeply gratifying.
Even if this was all it ever was, the satisfaction it filled him with was reassuring and good.
She was in charge of her own pleasure, and he of his, with no pressure to perform or deliver beyond caring for her well-being.
Perhaps domination could be non-sexual after all.
Out of habit, he did a hand check, frowning at how long it took the color to return to her index finger after he'd pinched it. "Darren?"
"Let me see." Darren repeated the motion with a hum.
"Good call. I'm calling Yellow for a moment, Mal.
Miles, let's get her out of this inversion and reassess.
Can you get this middle upline untied for me?
Pull her good foot higher and tie it off again.
" He rose, starting to untie the line connecting her highest knee to the rig.
Miles nodded, untying the knot carefully, making sure he had a secure hold of the upline to keep it from going slack. Mal wasn't tiny, but it was easy enough for him to draw down on the rope to pull her upper body higher as Darren had directed.
He brought the loose end up to secure it. He'd just looped it around itself when there was a sudden, deafening crack. A sharp pain sliced across his face next to his eye, and Mal's upper body fell, jerking as the second upline took her weight.
In a rush of terror, he grabbed for her as she cried out, getting his arms under her and lifting her. What the hell had happened? Had he fucked up? Had -
"You're alright," Darren said immediately, helping Miles lift her. "She's alright, that's why we have two. Hold her for me, and I'll get her out."
"The ropes were brand new!" Mal, fully alert, gasped in panic. "I swear, I'd never used them - "
"It's alright," Darren assured her, low and firm, though Miles could see his brows knit in worry. "Just breathe, let Miles hold you. Someone, please get her some water?"
Miles felt dizzy with the rush of adrenaline, panic rising.
But he had to push it down. Her well-being needed to take priority.
He shifted his grip on her body as Darren lowered her first leg, grabbing her harness for leverage and immediately second-guessing himself.
Had the rope really broken? Had he broken it somehow?
"I'm so sorry," Mal gasped again, expression fraught as she looked up at him. "I shouldn't have - it's not your fault, Miles - "
"Don't worry, don't think about that," he found himself reassuring automatically, despite his panicked mind still moving a hundred miles an hour. "Just breathe, honey. It's not your fault either. Here, take a sip, okay? Let Javier help you."
As her lover helped her drink from the bottle he'd brought, Darren freed her from the rig quickly.
He helped Miles lower her down to the platform.
One of her other devotees grabbed a large cushion off the couch nearby and dropped down to support her, encouraging Miles to let go.
For a brief flash of panic, his arms tightened around her unbidden - he couldn't let her fall - but reason won out.
"We're okay," Darren repeated again, low and unquestionably certain. He handed Miles one of the pairs of paramedics' shears, lowering his voice. "Just cut the harness. Shouldn't use this rope again anyway."
Miles nodded, taking hold of the bottom, doubled length of rope that made up the takate kote he'd tied so carefully.
Mal was shaking; no, he was shaking. He grabbed the blades of the shears with his other hand to steady them as he snipped down through one length, then the other.
Another snip at the top of the diamond made the harness go slack enough that he could quickly pull the remnants away and free her arms from the box tie.
"Please bring us some orange juice," Darren said to one of the suddenly too many people nearby.
"A whole pitcher and three glasses." He took the shears from Miles, then pulled both his hands together to steady him while he turned his attention to Mal.
"Show me your hands. Can you lift them? You landed hard in that tie. "
Mal nodded. She drew a deep, shuddering breath as she raised both hands, flexing her wrists and fingers without any sign of immediate nerve damage. "I'm okay. God, I'm so sorry. It was rated for three hundred pounds - "
Miles shook his head immediately. "No. I let the rope break - "
"Neither of you did anything wrong." The tone of Darren's voice was absolute.
"When rope breaks, it breaks. And the ropes were new.
This was clearly a freak accident; neither of you was at fault.
And even if you were, we're okay. Drink some orange juice.
" He pushed the first solo cup someone held out into Miles's hands, then Mal's, before downing one himself in one go.
Miles had to concentrate to keep his hand from shaking enough to lift the cup. Darren placed a hand over his. "Steady, darling. You're alright. Just crashing. Just breathe. And drink. Dom drop's hitting hard. Give us some space, please, friends. Let our hostess catch her breath."
Of course. The logic of his words took his panic down a notch, despite Miles wanting to argue that surely this went far beyond dom drop. But arguing wouldn't help. The only thing that would help was aftercare.
Darren wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close over her.
He found one of Mal's hands with his free one, drawing it to Miles so they clasped it between their joined hands.
Miles nestled his face into his husband's neck, focusing on counting his breath, actively slowing it.
Darren's fingers rubbed the back of his neck reassuringly, and Miles tried to pass on the touch, rubbing Mal's thumb with his own. The room grew quiet around them.
"You should all have a bite, and more orange juice." May appeared with a plate of finger sandwiches. "People are gradually clearing out, Mal."
Their hostess gave a pained sigh. "Already? God, that sucks. I'm going to have so many leftovers...."
"There are a few cuddle puddles we can foist doggy bags onto," May assured her, winking at Miles. "Mal, did you order the jute from Klara's?"
"Yeah? Why, is there a problem?"
"Ravinder found a few recent reports of upline breaks on the forums, and far less gentle landings. Nothing's been confirmed yet. But we should probably spread the word to be extra careful with it, Dare. Do you two want to take off? I can stay and make sure Mal's crew has everything under control."
"I'd appreciate it." Darren's voice was unexpectedly weary. He let go of Mal's hand to rub her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay with that? We can stay."
She shook her head. "Go home and rest, it's been a really long day."
Relieved, Miles squeezed her hand, going to stand. Hers clamped down on his before he could, though. "We'll try this again, right?" she asked, voice suddenly tight with worry. "Please, Miles? Promise me? We're getting back on the horse?"
Miles forced himself to nod. "Yeah. We - we'll figure something out. Don't worry."
"Thank you," Mal sighed. She squeezed his hand again, leaving Miles hoping he hadn't just told his friend a straight-up lie.
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