Chapter 12 #2
“I want to tie your wrists together. Is that okay?”
My bad mood vanished. Electricity tripped up my skin. Oh, goddess. We’re starting.
“Yes, Sir.”
He uncoiled the rope and dropped it into a messy pile in his lap. “When I tell you to pray, I want you on your knees. Do it now. Pray.”
I slipped off the bench and moved to the floor.
It was strangely thrilling to lower myself onto my knees in front of him.
He nudged my legs with his shoe, adjusting my position.
“Legs together. Back straight. Put your hands…” He took my hands and guided them up in a prayer position at my chest. “Like this. Head down. Eyes on the floor.”
I took the position, staring at the floor. The polished wood. His faded jeans. The scuff marks on his shoes. Those damn, worn shoes.
He started to wrap the rope around my wrists. He crisscrossed it down my forearms, forcing them together. I expected it to be itchy, but the material was soft and comfortable.
“When we play,” he said, “we’ll start every scene this way. Why do you think I’m tying you up?”
“To keep me from moving? So I don’t touch you? To remind me you’re in control?”
He shook his head. “This is a promise. From me to you. This is a promise to you that you can trust me. You don’t need your hands.
My hands are yours. When I blindfold you, my eyes are yours.
When I gag you, my voice is yours. I’m not taking from you.
I’m giving to you. Whatever I am, for as long as we’re in this club, is yours.
My body is in service to make sure you feel safe, protected, and satisfied. Do you understand that promise?”
“Yes.”
“Eyes, Ophelia.” I looked up, training my gaze on him. A small smile entered his expression. “Good girl.” Those two words. They sent a pleasure through me that was indescribable. He opened a zipper on his bag and removed a slim, black strip of fabric.
“I want to blindfold you. Are you comfortable with that?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Right. His rules. I found myself wanting badly to follow them. To be a good girl.
“Yes, Sir.”
He wrapped it around my eyes. The silk was soft on my skin, but he knotted it tightly behind my head, securing it in place.
The world went dark, and without my sense of sight, the rest of my senses heightened.
I zeroed in on the low, gruff sound of his voice.
The sensation of those large fingers securing the knot at the back of my head.
The way his leg knocked lightly into mine.
His hands left me. At first, I felt unanchored, empty and alone without my sight, but then his hand closed over my bare knee. His thumb gently, slowly rubbed over the skin and I felt tethered to the earth again by his touch. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. I want you to answer openly.”
I nodded in compliance. My throat went tight. I felt nervous…and excited. Like teasing the edge of a cliff.
“Is there any place you don’t want me to touch you?”
What I wanted to say was: I want your hands everywhere, on my body, gripping me, inside of me…
Instead, I shook my head. “No, Sir.”
“Are you okay with spanking?”
“Yes.”
“Slapping?”
“Not on the face, but…everywhere else, yes.”
He gave a sudden, sharp slap on my thigh. I gasped. It wasn’t hard, but surprising, and it left a warm, stinging sensation in its wake.
“How was that?”
“Good. I can take more, Sir.”
“I’m going to start training you on your words. You’ll hear me say Give. Right now, you don’t have to do anything when I say the word. I’m just putting it in your ear.”
“Okay.”
“Give,” he repeated. Another slap on my leg. I couldn’t help it—I gasped again. Not from pain. But from the heat that was creeping up my thigh from his touch and running straight to the core of me.
“Give.” My muscles tensed, prepared this time, and I got another slap on the thigh. His touches weren’t getting any rougher, but the constant smacking in that same place, over and over again, was starting to smart. My skin tingled even when his hand left me, and I was certain the spot had gone red.
“Your breasts and ass. May I hurt them?”
He didn’t ask: may I touch them?
He asked: may I hurt them?
I was throbbing. I didn’t know I wanted it to so much. All I could get out was an, “Mmhm.”
“I need to hear you say it, Ophelia,” he reminded gently.
“Yes. Yes, Sir.”
“Give.” I braced for the stinging slap, but it didn’t come. Instead, he ran a feather-light caress up my thigh, touching my underwear line. Then he drew his fingertips slowly back down.
The gentle touch was a surprise, and my body acted starved for it. My nipples got tight and hard and even the soft fabric of my bra felt unbearable. I moaned out loud.
“How do you feel about having an orgasm in public?” His voice was that same calm, controlled tone, like he was completely unaware of the puddle I’d made in my panties.
“Please,” I blurted out. My brain was scrambled, my cunt was tight, and I felt like I might cum on the spot if he asked it of me. Then I realized I should probably keep some cards a little closer to my chest, so I stammered out, “I…I mean…I’m open to it.”
I wet my lips. They’d gone dry.
I heard him get up. I half expected him to come back with a Hitachi and shove it between my thighs. Instead, the lip of something hard pressed against my mouth.
“Swallow,” he said.
He tilted the cup. Cool water spilled into my mouth. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until I tasted it. I swallowed it down obediently.
Is this what being taken care of felt like? It was nice.
“A little more,” he coaxed. Another gush of water down my throat. I swallowed as much as I could, but my mouth was too full. This time, a cold stream trickled down the side of my lips. His hand grasped my face, gently cleaning my mess off my cheek.
“Good girl,” Phantom said. His voice had a new, rough grit in it. Did feeding me water turn him on? If he was even a tenth as horny as I was right now, he was in agony, but he was doing a noble job keeping it together.
To which I wanted to say: fuck nobility; rail me, paramedic daddy.
I swallowed, sucked in air, and got out, “Thank you, Sir.”
I heard the sound of the cup finding its place on a table. Then he said: “Give me your hands.”
I lifted my hands as best I could, fingers clasped, wrists bound together with the rope. His fingers tugged the rope. “Stand.” I did. “Follow me.”
He pulled me forward by my bound hands. Blind, I awkwardly shuffled forward.
He walked at a quick clip, so I couldn’t overthink it, I just had to trust him.
It seemed like he was leading me around the room, and I couldn’t help but wonder who else was there—who was watching me half-trip over my feet like a baby deer?
The thought made my cunt ache again, and I was starting to realize how much I enjoyed being truly helpless with Phantom in the driver’s seat.
“Stop,” he said, a second too late. I squeaked, my face finding his chest, my body bumping against his. I heard him exhale sharply.
“Sorry, Sir.”
His hands clamped around my arms. He turned me in a circle, then moved me where he wanted me. I felt like a child about to hit the pinata, until I heard him say: “Bend over.”
Oh. No. I was the pinata.
I did. He took my hands and guided my palms to a flat surface. I heard something snap into place. When I attempted to move my hands back now, the rope caught, holding me in place.
“I’m going to take these off,” he said. His hands touched my panties.
“Yes, Sir.”
He rolled the fabric down my legs and I stepped out of it. My bra went next. Now, I really had nowhere to hide. The thought was thrilling.
“Down,” he said.
I shifted down, lying on my stomach against what felt like a leather bench. My hands were stuck forward. I felt his fingers on my legs, and he wrapped something around both of my ankles. Those snapped into place too so I couldn’t move my limbs.
His palm found my ass. The touch was gentle, and I shivered.
“How do you feel?” he asked me.
“Good. Really good.”
He kept softly stroking. It sent tingles all through my body.
“You have such a strong body,” he said. His voice was low. Reverent. Strong. I liked that. I’d never been called strong. Only beautiful.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I’m going to spank you, Ophelia. I’m just going to use my hands today. If you need a break, just say so and I’ll stop.”
“And I use my…safe word. Right? Mercy?”
“You can use Mercy. But let’s get on the same page before we roleplay. For now, stop is acceptable.”
I bit my lip because…he was already talking about future scenes. He wanted me to come back. He was having fun, too. I rested my cheek against the leather bench and waited for his touch. “Yes, Sir.”
His hand left me. I braced here, waiting for impact. It came a second later, and the loud slap made me yelp. My ass stung where his palm made contact.
“How is that?” he asked me.
“Good,” I panted. “Keep going. Please.”
He smacked my other cheek. His spanks were rough, but controlled. The smack of his hand stung at first and then tingled to a lovely, blushing warmth as the blood rose to the surface of my skin.
“Count,” he said, “I want to hear you.”
So I did. Ten on each side. Each swing so powerful, by time he was done, I was squirming. I was keenly aware of the ache on my ass. The ache between my legs.
He positioned himself so his knee wedged between my legs. Here, he leaned over and murmured in my ear, “Are you having fun?”
“Yes, Sir.” I couldn’t help myself—the pressure of his leg against my cunt was too good. As if my body had a mind of its own, I felt myself squirming against the rough, unforgiving denim.
“You’re grinding against my thigh, Ophelia.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t help it.”
“What would I feel if I reached between your legs right now? Would you soak my hand? If I pushed my fingers inside of you, would you throb around them?”
“Yes, Sir. I need it so bad. Please.”
He pushed the blindfold from my face, letting it hang around my neck instead. “I’m taking this off,” he told me. “I need to see your eyes.”
“Okay.”