Chapter 17 #2
When my right leg is secured, he reaches for my left.
His hands are strong and sure as he wraps the rope around my ankle and ties the other end to the remaining bedpost, leaving me lying there with my legs spread open.
It’s a disconcerting position, and as soon as Julian moves back, I instinctively try to bring my legs together.
I can’t close them more than an inch, of course.
Like the ropes around my wrists, the ankle restraints hold me tightly in place without cutting off my circulation.
My kidnapper may not be into traditional BDSM, but he certainly knows how to tie someone up.
“Julian?” It occurs to me that I’m still wearing my underwear, both the bra and the thong. “What are you going to do to me?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, I feel the mattress dip again as he gets up, and then I hear his footsteps and the sound of the door closing.
He walked out of the room, leaving me tied to the bed.
My heart starts beating faster.
I flex my arms, testing the rope again even though I know it’s futile.
As expected, there’s almost no give in the restraints; the rope bites painfully into my skin when I try to pull on it.
I’m nearly naked and alone, blindfolded and tied up in this unfamiliar house.
And even though I know Julian won’t let anything bad happen to me, I can’t help the tension that invades my body as seconds tick by with no sign of his return.
After a couple of minutes, I test the rope again. Still no give in it… and still no sign of Julian.
I force myself to take a breath and slowly let it out. Nothing terrible is going on; nobody is hurting me. I don’t know what game Julian is playing, but it doesn’t seem particularly brutal.
But you want brutal, a small, insidious voice inside my head reminds me. You want pain and violence.
I quiet that voice and focus on remaining calm.
Julian’s mercurial approach to lovemaking may excite me, but it also frightens me.
The sane part of me, at least. I want pain, yet I dread it in equal measures.
It’s always that way nowadays. It’s as if I’ve been split in two, the remnants of the person I used to be warring with who I am now.
Another few minutes crawl by.
“Julian?” I can no longer remain silent. “Julian, where are you?”
Nothing. No response of any kind.
I rub the back of my head against the sheets, trying to dislodge the blindfold, but it doesn’t budge more than an inch.
Frustrated, I yank at the restraints with all my strength, but all I succeed in doing is hurting myself.
Finally, I give up and try to relax, ignoring the anxiety creeping through me.
A few more minutes pass. Just when I think I might go out of my mind, the door creaks open, and I hear the soft sound of footsteps.
“Julian, is that you?” I can’t hide the relief in my voice. “What happened? Where did you go?”
“Shhh.” The sound is followed by a tickling sensation across my lips. “Who told you that you could speak, my pet?”
My pulse jumps at the cold note in his voice. Is he punishing me for something? “What—”
“Hush.” His fingers press on my lips, silencing me. “Not another word.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling dry. He’s not touching me anywhere but my lips, yet my body ignites, my earlier arousal returning despite my growing nervousness.
Or maybe because of it. It’s impossible to tell.
“Suck on my fingers.” His whispered command is accompanied by increasing pressure on the seam of my lips. “Now.”
Obediently, I open my mouth and suck two of his large fingers in.
They taste clean and slightly salty, the edges of his short nails rough against the tender roof of my mouth.
I swirl my tongue around his fingers as I would over his cock, and his hand jerks, as though the sensation is just as intense for him.
Just as I’m starting to get into it, Julian withdraws his fingers and runs them down the front of my body, leaving a cool, damp trail on my skin.
I shiver in response, my inner muscles tensing as his fingers circle my navel, his nails scraping lightly over my belly.
Lower, I will him silently, please, just go a bit lower, but he lifts his hand instead, depriving me of his touch.
I open my mouth to plead with him, but then I remember that he doesn’t want me to speak. Swallowing, I suppress the words, not wanting to displease him when he’s in this unpredictable mood.
If Julian is indeed punishing me for something, I don’t want to provoke him further.
So instead of begging, I lie still, waiting, my breathing fast and shallow as I try to listen to his movements. I can’t hear anything. Is he just standing there watching me? Staring at my semi-naked body stretched out and restrained on the bed?
Finally, I hear something. A scraping noise, as if he picked up something from the nightstand.
I wait, listening tensely, and then I feel it.
Something cold and hard sliding under the tight band of my bra, pressing between my breasts.
I almost flinch in shock, but manage to remain still, my heart beating frantically.
Snip. The noise is unmistakeable.
It’s the sound of metal cutting through thick fabric. Julian just used scissors on the front of my bra.
I allow myself a small exhalation of relief, but then I tense again as I feel the cold scissors sliding down my body.
Snip. Snip. Both sides of my thong are cut, the dull edge of the scissors pressing into my hipbones.
I feel the warmth of Julian’s hand as he pulls the mangled scrap of fabric off my body, and then I hear him suck in a breath.
He’s looking at me. I know it. I picture what he’s seeing as I lie there naked, with my legs wide open, and a flush heats up my skin at the pornographic image in my mind.
“You’re already wet.” His voice, low and thick with lust, makes me burn even more.
“Your pussy is dripping for me.” He accompanies the words with a butterfly-soft touch on my aching clit.
His fingertips feel rough on my sensitive flesh, yet fire rockets through my veins, filling me with desperate need.
Unbidden, a moan escapes my throat, and I lift my hips toward him, silently begging for more.
This time, he answers my plea.
I feel the mattress dip again as he climbs onto the bed, settling between my legs.
His hands, large and strong, grip the top of my thighs, and then he lowers his head to my sex.
I feel his hot breath wash over my open folds.
I almost whimper in anticipation, but I hold back at the last second, not wanting to do anything to cause Julian to change his mind.
I want his touch. I need it. It’s agonizing to be without it.
And then I feel it—the soft, wet pressure of his tongue between my folds, the pressure that both quenches and intensifies the ache.
He doesn’t lick me; he just holds his tongue against my clit, but it’s enough.
It’s more than enough. I rock my hips in small, spasmodic movements, creating the exact rhythm I need, and the tension within me grows, the pleasure gathering in a hot, pulsing ball within my core.
His tongue moves then, his lips closing around my clit in a strong sucking motion, and the ball bursts, shards of ecstasy blasting through my nerve endings as I cry out, no longer able to stay silent.
Before my orgasm is completely over, he starts licking me.
Just soft, gentle licks that extend the pleasurable aftershocks coursing through my body.
It feels good, even with my clit swollen and sensitized, so I lie there, enjoying it, limp and content from my release.
It’s not until a minute later that I realize that the pleasure is sharpening again, growing stronger, transforming into that aching tension.
I gasp, arching toward his mouth, needing more pressure to bring me over the edge, but he keeps touching me with those light licks, his tongue just barely grazing over my clit.
“Please, Julian…” The words escape before I can remember the restriction on speaking, but to my relief, he doesn’t stop.
Instead, he keeps licking me, his tongue moving in a rhythm that slowly and torturously winds me tighter, pushing me closer but not letting me get what I need.
I try to push my hips higher, but I can’t gain much leverage, stretched and spread as I am.
All I can do is endure, utterly at the mercy of whatever pleasure-torment Julian chooses to dole out.
Just when I think I can’t bear much more, he shifts to the side, moving his right hand from my thigh to my throbbing sex.
His large, blunt fingers probe my entrance, and I moan as he pushes two of them in, penetrating me with startling swiftness.
I’m almost there, it’s nearly what I need…
and then his thumb presses hard on my clit.
I fly apart, acute pleasure rippling through my body as I convulse, gasping and crying out.
“Yes, that’s it, baby,” he murmurs. His hand leaves me, and I hear the sound of a zipper coming down. I register it only dimly. I feel drunk on orgasms, worn out by the brutal intensity of it all. My heart is pounding as if I ran a race, and my bones feel like they’ve turned to jelly.
There’s no way I could possibly want more, yet when he covers me with his large body, a tiny twitch of renewed sensation makes my belly tighten.
He’s naked, having already removed his clothes, and I can feel his heat, his hardness.
His raw male power. Even if I weren’t restrained, I’d feel helpless and small, surrounded as I am by him, but with the rope on my ankles and wrists, that feeling is magnified.
I can hardly breathe under his weight, but it doesn’t matter. Even air feels optional at the moment.
All I need is Julian.
He shifts on top of me, propping himself up on his elbows. The hard, smooth tip of his erection brushes against my inner thigh as he lowers his head to kiss me, and I tense with anticipation as I feel him beginning to press in.
I’m wet and slick from the orgasms, my body primed for his possession, yet I still feel the stretch as his thick cock forces apart my inner walls, the sensation stopping just short of pain.
His tongue invades my mouth at the same time, and I can’t even moan as he begins to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic.
It’s overwhelming, the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body completely dominates and claims mine.
I can’t see, can’t move. I’m drowning, and he’s my only salvation.
I don’t know how long it takes before the pulsing tension coils in my core once more. All I know is when Julian comes, I come with him, shuddering and crying out in his embrace.
Afterwards, he removes the blindfold and the ropes and carries me to the shower.
I’m so exhausted I can barely stand, so Julian washes me, taking care of me as if I were a child.
When he brings me back to bed, he pulls me into his arms, and as I fall asleep, I hear him say softly, “I will give you the world, my pet. The whole fucking world—just as long as you’re mine. ”