Chapter 20
Tuesday held on loosely while Knife pulled the vibrating motorcycle into the garage and killed the engine.
She didn’t know if she was hornier than a bitch in heat because she knew there’d be a scene tonight, or if it was from the motorcycle rumbling between her thighs for the past two hours, but damn, her clit was throbbing away inside her jeans.
She swung her leg over the back of the bike to dismount, and she winced at the sharp, sudden pain. Her hips were stiff and sore from the long ride, and it caught her off guard. Sure, they’d ached while she rode, but they were so close to her pulsing clit, it’d all just kind of blended together.
Knife pulled his helmet off, smirked at her, and patted her ass.
“You’ll get used to it if you ride with me enough.
Head on upstairs and get a quick shower.
I’ll be up in about ten minutes, and I expect you to be standing naked under the pulleys when I get there.
Legs spread, hands at the back of your head, those gorgeous tits poking out. ”
Her stomach flip-flopped, and she didn’t argue. She gave him a single nod and headed inside, hips protesting the entire way.
She showered fast under piping hot water, which did nothing to calm the low thrum of anticipation building in her belly.
Walking across the room naked after she was dry felt a little silly, but as soon as she’d assumed the position he’d ordered — legs spread, arms locked behind her head, chest pushed forward — her libido ramped into a desperate need.
And yet, she’d just spent an entire day with him as a complete person. Not just the sadist Dom who ties her up and hurts her so beautifully, but the man who let her get used to his motorcycle slowly before he had fun on the curves, who showed her the most fantastic, magical trail she’d ever hiked.
That was saying something, since she’d hiked in the Alps, both in France and Switzerland, not to mention all the time she’d spent hiking in Montana, or the month she’d explored Yellowstone with her dad when she was a teen.
But this magical little trail on Monteagle Mountain in Tennessee, an hour from home if she took the interstate, had more magic than any of them. And he’d shown it to her.
Now she was standing naked under his pulleys, waiting for him to come upstairs and tether her body in his evil ropes — with her libido already in overdrive, wondering what cruel, sadistic predicament he’d bind her into.
She was having trouble meshing both versions of him into a single man.
Outside the bedroom and inside the bedroom.
Maybe it was because she was only supposed to know the one she knew in here.
The logical solution was to keep them separate in her head — the man who calmly explained a damned disappearing creek belonged to one category, the sadist who bound her into ropes and then beat and fucked her belonged to another, and as long as she didn't let them bleed together, maybe she could manage this.
The problem was they'd already bled together, since she was thinking of him talking to her about chicken livers and tater tots while she was standing under his fucking pulleys with her tits poked out and her legs spread exactly as he’d ordered.
Today had changed things, and she knew it.
But she wouldn’t trade it for anything, and that was a problem all by itself.
She heard his boots on the stairs, and her breath caught.
He stepped into the room, and the hunger in his eyes made her knees go weak.
But he only looked her over from head to toe and then stepped to the wall, lifted a basket, and walked to her. He pulled a bit gag with a tongue depressor out, slid it between her teeth, and buckled it snugly behind her head.
Then he started with the ropes.
He worked methodically, creating rope cuffs on her wrists and ankles before he spread her legs wider, impossibly wide, held a too-long spreader bar between her ankles, and attached it to the cuffs he’d just fashioned.
She was held open, displayed, every muscle in her inner thighs and hips already protesting the stretch.
Her hips were still sore from the long ride, and the position made the ache flare sharp and deep — but she didn’t make a sound.
Saliva was already pooling in her mouth while her clit throbbed between her legs.
She wouldn’t add to the humiliation by whining like a baby.
He connected her wrists together behind her back, and that was fine until he lifted them up, up, up… forcing her to lean over, bent at the hips, and then he connected her wrists to the chain hanging from the pulleys.
It wasn’t terrible at first.
Until he walked to the wall and lifted the chain, pulling her arms higher, wrenching her shoulders until they screamed.
She couldn’t help her whimpers now, breathing hard, her chest heaving, but he kept working, as precise and unhurried as ever until her arms were pulled high and back, shoulders torqued.
Her heart raced when she saw him walking back holding alligator clamps, then watched his hands heading toward her nipple. She shook her head and tried to say, “No, no!” but words weren’t possible past the bit gag.
She had a way to safeword, by snapping her fingers, but this wasn’t that kind of ‘no.’ It was just her fear trying to get out.
The steel teeth viciously bit into her nipple, embedding into the sensitive flesh until tears pricked at her eyes. And then the other clamp snapped onto her left nipple.
But he wasn’t finished. He knotted the ends of a bright purple piece of twine to the clamps and then looped another strand around her big toe before knotting it around the original twine, effectively pulling her entire body to the left, with her nipples over her left big toe.
Her hips hadn’t been too bad once she’d been bent over, but now they spasmed all over again, and her shoulders were angled all wrong while torqued backward and up, creating a shearing strain from wrists to ribcage, forcing muscles and connectors into a completely wrong twist while tension pulled and corkscrewed through her with a sharp, aching pain — and she was only seconds into this.
Asymmetric bondage. The term went through her head, and a pleading whine rose from her chest.
“I know it hurts,” he told her, his voice sympathetic. “Let’s see if we can take your mind off it.”
He stepped behind her with something purple in his hands — with straps — and she knew what it was a half-second before he started working the straps around her thighs. A damned butterfly vibe.
Moments later, her traitorous clit was throbbing away all over again while her shoulders, nipples, and hips screamed.
She thought he was finished, but his hand went back to the vibe and he turned it all the way up.
The sudden, intense buzzing against her already swollen, pulsing clit made her hips jerk hard, which only pulled on the clamps and yanked her shoulders and hips worse. She moaned around the gag, a desperate, broken sound while the vibration drilled straight into her nervous system.
And then he stepped back and walked away from her, sat to take his boots off, and then walked barefoot into the bathroom.
She heard fabric sounds, likely him undressing, and then the shower came on.
While she was forced into this bent-over pose — arms wrenched back, legs forced wide by the bar, nipples clamped and stretched toward her toe, clit buzzing mercilessly, hips and shoulders on fire — her mind kept flashing back to the man who’d let her take as much time at the giant hemlock as she wanted, who’d patiently explained the disappearing creek, shown her the bigleaf magnolia and had used her phone to take pictures of her holding the giant leaves.
The man who’d treated her to some of the best southern food she’d ever eaten, and that was saying something.
How could she reconcile that man with this one, the sadist with the easygoing voice who’d just told her he knew how bad it hurt, and then planted a fucking vibrator on her clit and was taking a motherfucking shower while she was trapped in this godforsaken position.
Yet, even though it hurt like her pelvis was cracking open while her hip bones were roasting in the fires of hell when she pumped her hips, she couldn’t keep them still.
Her pussy clenched constantly and she desperately needed to be fucked — and the damned vibrator drilling both pleasure and agony into her swollen, tender clit was just gasoline on the fire.
And the damned shower was still running in the bathroom, meaning he wasn’t even close to returning and hopefully fucking her senseless.
Though he likely had other beautifully cruel, sadistically awful things planned before he got around to that.
When he finally returned, she was shaking uncontrollably. Thick strands of slobber ran from her gagged mouth to the floor, and the butterfly vibrator buzzed mercilessly against her clit, holding her right on the razor’s edge of an orgasm she couldn’t reach.
And she’d tried. Fuck, she’d tried, but every attempt only made her brutalized hips and shoulders scream louder while her clamped nipples throbbed in time with her racing heart, each tiny movement sending fresh agony through her chest with a direct fucking line back to her damned clit.
He brought his jeans with him, and the sound of the belt sliding free of the loops was a long, ominous whoosh that made her flinch and clench at the same time, her body craving the sting even as fear flooded her veins.
He stepped behind her without a word, and the first crack of leather lit both ass cheeks up with a line of liquid fire.
She jolted forward with a raw, guttural scream, the force of it jerking her entire body against the ropes.
He didn’t pause. Line after line of blazing impact was branded across her ass and the backs of her thighs, each heavy stroke landing with a loud, thudding crack that echoed through the room.
The pain was blinding, overwhelming, sinking deep into strained, twisting muscles.