Best Bondage Erotica 2013 (3 page)

This had to be some kind of prank, and at any moment I expected Ty to spring back to his feet and untie me. But no. His hand brushed over the tense lump that was my cock, making it quiver. I tried not to moan, my whole body a mass of queasy, excited sensation.

He grabbed the waistband of my trunks, easing them down. I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. Not that I wanted to. Not long into our relationship, I'd confessed to Justine that I'd always wanted to know how it would feel to have another man play with my cock. But, like so many of the fantasies we'd shared that day, we seemed to have filed it away as something that would never happen. Until now.

Ty's long, cool fingers circled my cock. He looked right into my eyes, clearly asking for my consent. ‘Always safe, always consensual.' The mantra rang in my ears; I'd thought it only referred to the shibari itself, not what might come as an unexpected spin-off. I didn't speak; simply nodded my assent. He held me a little tighter, a lover's grip, hand slowly beginning to move up and down my shaft.

I heard Justine give a long, throaty coo of delight, and when I looked in her direction I saw her gaze was fixed firmly on Ty's hand as it wanked me. As if unaware of what she did, she rolled one nipple between her thumb and forefinger through her thin pink top. Its twin was an all-too-visible bump beneath the fabric.

Ty increased the speed of his strokes, just a little. I wanted to splay my legs, giving him access to my balls and asshole, both of which I longed for him to caress, but bound as I was, I knew I had to let everything happen at his pace. So used to being on top, I fought the urge to issue instructions and surrendered to the pleasure he was giving me.

His thumb brushed over my helmet, smearing the juice that seeped from the tip over and around, lubricating his passage. That steady back and forth motion would have been enough on its own to have me coming, keyed up as I was by the unfamiliar sensations of being wanked by another man, but Ty was determined to take things to a new level.

“I'm going to make you come with my mouth,” he stated. “Justine tells me it's what you've always wanted.”

My mouth had gone dry; I couldn't shape the words to tell him how much I desired it. But my frantic nods and the shuffling of my butt against the polished floorboards must have given him all the clues he needed. Bending his head, he took just a little of my cock between his lips, giving me a moment to get used to the feeling of being submerged in that hot, wet mouth.

“Oh, fuck, he's doing it. He's really sucking you off.” Justine's words distracted me, and I looked up to see she had her fingers buried in her panties, and was frigging herself as she watched. It was a perfectly rude accompaniment to what was being done to me, and the sight of her, abandoned to her own pleasure, made me fight to get more of my cock in Ty's mouth.

When someone really knows how to give a blow job as well as Ty did, I was rapidly discovering, it doesn't really matter if they're male or female. All you care about is the feeling of those lips and that supple, questing tongue, slurping over every inch of your flesh, all the way down to the root and back. Just as I'd hoped, he reached in to tickle my balls, running his finger as far down the puckered seam between them as my restrained position allowed.

“That's it,” Justine crooned, “make him come.” Then her voice cracked and her words dissolved into a series of incoherent gasps as she brought herself to her peak. The sight of her, wracked by an orgasm that caused her knees to buckle, coupled
with the wet suction of Ty's mouth, had me crying out.

Ty took my muttered oath as a sign that I was about to come, pulling his mouth off my cock at the moment my come jetted out with enough force to land on the rope that tied my legs in place. Those wicked shibari knots looked even better, adorned with pearly droplets of semen. My head lolled back and I went limp in my bonds, wiped out by the force of my orgasm.

It was Ty who released me, who brought a glass of water to my lips and helped me sip from it. But it was Justine who explained just how our tuition session had taken this kinky twist.

“I couldn't help myself,” she said, squatting beside me and holding my newly freed hand. “I've been thinking a lot recently about what it might be like to see you with another man. So I got in touch with Ty and asked him if he'd be willing to do something very special for both of us.”

“And don't think I make a habit of this,” Ty said, peeling off his clothes to stand naked before both of us, giving us both the opportunity to admire the Prince Albert piercing that adorned his proudly erect cock. “Well, not in my workshops—and almost never with private clients, unless they're as cute as you two.” He took my hand, aiding me to my feet. “But maybe we ought to get back to the session now, and let Mike tie you up, Justine.”

From his grin, I had the feeling tying up wasn't all I was going to do to her. And hadn't she always wanted to explore sex with two men at once? Guiding Justine into position so I could begin the process of binding her arms together, I knew our introduction to shibari at Ty's hands would open up a whole new world of possibilities for us. We'd had the fantasies all along—all we'd needed was the right man to show us the ropes.

 

 

 

 

 

Carin and Jun dropped their daughter off with his parents and drove home to spend the last few hours of her leave together. They kept silent in the car. Carin didn't want to, but she felt herself pulling away from her husband, hiding her feelings deep inside herself, protecting them so they would be intact when she returned.

Jun pulled the car into the driveway of their small but well-groomed house, turned off the engine and stared straight ahead. He swallowed. “Don't go yet,” he said. “I get three more hours with you.”

He turned and pulled her into a kiss made awkward by the steering wheel and Carin's imminent departure. She backed up and studied him. He would look different when she saw him next, she knew from experience. Perhaps his cropped hair would have grown long, or there would be a new hollowness beneath his eyes from the pressures of caring for their daughter alone. Perhaps he would have bought a bunch of shirts she didn't recognize,
though probably in his preferred jewel tones. The house would certainly look different, arranged by then for his body and habits, and those of little Kendra, whose changes would be most alarming of all.

Carin imagined her daughter transformed yet again into a strange angel who did not quite recognize her and teared up. Jun traced her chin, bringing her attention back to his eyes, to this moment. “Let's go inside,” he said.

She could not help lingering on the details of their home. The handmade quilt Jun's mother had given them as a wedding present, its bright orange jarring against the subdued green of their couch. Shelves of books she might never read. Gauzy white curtains undulating in the breeze from the open window. One of Kendra's alphabet blocks lodged partway behind the cherry-wood dresser in their bedroom.

Jun pulled Carin back against him, his arms crushing. “I don't want to lose you. When you came home this time, you were like a stranger.”

Carin took a deep breath. She didn't want to cry right now. She'd been fine on her deployment but started having nightmares when her leave began. For all that she'd missed Jun, she hadn't been able to bear his touch the first couple of nights.

On the third night, Jun had taken out their rope bag. He barely touched her with his hands, letting the rope connect them instead. Jun hog-tied her facedown on the bed, her hands tied to each other behind her back and then attached to her bound ankles. Something had relaxed inside Carin as the rope flowed over her flesh, and the tears that had been bubbling in her chest rose to the surface in a loud sob.

“Do you need your safeword?” Jun had asked, hovering near her but still not touching.

Carin shook her head and wept. He'd sat beside her, letting
the rope embrace her in a way that he could not. When she'd finally been exhausted from crying, Jun eased onto the bed beside her and wrapped her in his familiar-smelling warmth, fresh and salty as the ocean. Carin had thought she would break, but the ropes held her together.

Only after that had she been able to touch him, kiss him, make love with him.

“Jun—” Carin started, but couldn't finish. She turned and buried her face in his chest. She would be a soldier soon, but for now she wanted to be a baby, rocked and comforted and cared for.

“You're safe when I'm holding you,” he said. “Always. Wherever you are.”

Jun guided them to the bed and cradled her there. Carin softened in his grasp. Her emotions receded and she became more aware of the hard muscle of his body, and the heat where his crotch contacted the small of her back.

“I need you, Jun,” she said.

He kissed the top of her head. He released her and got their rope bag out of the closet, dumping it out beside her on the bed. He plucked a strand off the top of the pile, thin as a friendship bracelet. He wrapped her ankle with the rope and tied it off. Its fibers tickled her skin, surprisingly soft.

He kissed her instep and rubbed the soles of her feet. Carin shivered, the touch more intense than she expected. The circling pressure of his thumb swirled up from her feet, reaching into her calves, her thighs, her lower belly. Jun smiled at her reaction and turned his kiss into a nibble. She jerked and he caught her, holding her still.

“I made this for you while you were gone this last time,” Jun said. “Sometimes, I missed you so much I had to clear my head. I'd take Kendra to my parents' house and then go for long hikes.
I'd walk and wish I could have tied you up and never let you go. I started gathering milkweed and bringing it home.”

He slipped his index finger through the bracelet and tugged. “I cleaned it. I tenderized it. I twisted it into this rope.” He pulled hard enough to make the rope bite her skin. “You're mine,” he said, his tone much fiercer than his still-stroking hands. He circled her ankle with his fingers, mirroring the sensation of the rope. “I'm binding you to me. Do you feel how I'm holding you?”

Carin nodded.

Jun relaxed his encircling fingers, but yanked the delicate rope once more, making his point. “Do you feel how I'm still holding you?”

“Yes.”

“That rope is just a little grip, like me holding your hand. But you never have to be without it.” He slid up the bed and wrapped his arms around her torso again. “Now this is a big hug. This is me holding you.”

Soon, his hands slipped into her clothes, loosening, unfastening, groping. The familiar sexual rhythm lightened the moment for Carin. “Just holding, huh?” She raised an eyebrow.

Jun smiled and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Okay, maybe this is me holding you and then copping a feel, undressing you and trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh. Makes sense.” She spread her legs, grinning when he reached between her thighs. “So long as we're being accurate.”

Jun patted her cunt and peeled off her clothes. Carin closed her eyes and melted into his hands. The touch of his flesh soon became the kiss of more rope, the transition seamless, effortless, lovely. The new length of rope, thicker than before, lay so warm and soft against her skin that it seemed to live and breathe. “I made this one, too,” Jun said. “This is me holding you.”

The rope buzzed lightly against itself as he wound it around
her torso, the vibrations passing into her body even as the strands pinned Carin's arms to her sides. Jun kissed her cheek, then caressed the side of her neck with a loop of soft material. “These are my fingers.”

He bound her loosely, but the knowledge of what he'd put into the rope made its restraint seem more complete and secure than anything she'd felt before. Jun wove his fingers through the coil of rope around her torso. “They can send you to Afghanistan, or they can send you to Mars. I don't care which. I'll be holding you there.”

Carin sighed. If her hands had been free, she would have reached for him. She would have pressed his face against her breasts to feel his stubble scrape her nipples.

Jun produced a new length of rope. He wrapped it around Carin, tying it off with sharp, precise movements that yanked her body left and right at his mercy. The rope communicated an anger that didn't show through the soft concentration on his face.

“You may be leaving, but I'm not letting you go,” Jun said. “This is me holding you.”

He gripped Carin's shoulders and pulled her into a possessive kiss. A tear dripped onto her cheek. It wasn't hers.

Jun eased her onto her back on the bed, keeping his face turned away. Carin's body rocked when Jun moved off the mattress.

He reappeared a moment later, holding a length of thin rope coiled around a pencil. Jun pressed it to Carin's lips. “This is me kissing you,” he said. One hand eased her jaw open. He maneuvered it to lodge between her molars. Carin instinctively bit down, playing her tongue against the texture of the rope, sucking the unexpected sweetness of the fibers to the back of her throat. Jun stroked her hair and secured the bit gag with a quick tie around the back of her head.

“I'll never stop kissing you,” Jun whispered, brushing his
fingers across her mouth, taking hold of her lower lip and rubbing it against the rope. Carin moaned around the gag.

Jun kissed the side of her face. His hands roamed her body, plucking at the rope so it sang against her soft flesh, and rubbing gentle circles over her arms, her belly, her thighs and her breasts.

“I want you to take this rope and wrap it around something in your luggage,” he told her. “Take it with you. And when you need to be held, wind it around yourself and I'll be there holding you, just like this.”