Best Bondage Erotica 2013 (4 page)

Carin appreciated the gag. She'd have tied her tongue in knots searching for the right words for the occasion. By blocking her speech, Jun had set her free to be with him now instead of getting trapped trying to untangle her worries and fears. The set of her body could tell him all he needed to know.

His fingers played her like an instrument, as knowing on her flesh as on the rope. Jun moved from the sides of her legs to her inner thighs. He worked his way over her rib cage, massaging the foundations of her breasts, then lifting the twin weights in his palms and flicking the nipples.

Jun ran the forefinger of his left hand over all the rope adorning Carin's body. With his other hand, he cupped her mons, increasing his pressure with agonizing patience.

Carin struggled in her bonds for the first time, lifting and rolling her hips, trying to coax his finger to slip between her lips. Moisture gathered in her cunt, sliding through her inner folds, ready to spill over onto his hand if only he would open and take her.

Finally, something did probe at her, but it wasn't his hand. A knotted end of rope rasped against her inner thighs and settled between her legs. Carin grunted with surprise. Jun spread her cunt with one hand and rubbed the rope a few times over her
slippery skin. The sensation of it began rough but transformed to silken as she soaked the rope smooth.

Jun smiled and lifted it for her to see. A series of complicated knots had shaped the rope into a woven phallus. Her juices had brought the length to life, its soft beige shade darkening and becoming more vivid where she had soaked it. Jun swiped it under Carin's nose, leaving a sticky trail of her arousal on her upper lip. He did the same to himself.

“You smell good,” he whispered. “Open wide for me.”

Jun felt between her legs, sliding two fingers easily up her cunt. She met his fingers with her raised hips, encouraging him to speed up. He fucked her with his hand, and didn't stop until she'd gotten so wet that her cunt practically splashed onto his palm with each thrust, the wet sucking noise filling the room. Carin groaned and cried into the gag. She wanted to come, but wouldn't unless he did something to her clit.

He held up the end of the rope again, smearing it with the juices from his hand. He seated its soaked end at the entrance of Carin's cunt and pressed gently and firmly.

She winced, fearing the rope would feel abrasive inside her. But Jun moved it slowly enough, and she'd lubricated enough, that it glided into her, filling her and swelling inside her as it absorbed her liquid.

“This is me fucking you,” Jun said fervently, lodging the phallus to its full depth within her. Carin bit down on her gag and arched up to it, but he didn't slide it in and out as she expected.

Instead, he continued manipulating the rope, looping it around her waist and the base of her thighs and locking the dildo in place. Carin whimpered desperately and rocked her hips up to the air. The pressure of the rope aroused her, but didn't come close to giving her what she needed for satisfaction. She felt near tears.

Jun secured the rest of the harness around her hips and surveyed his work, gleeful at his wife's desperation. “Is that good, honey?”

Frantically, Carin shook her head no. “Touch my clit,” she tried to say. The words came muffled and indistinct through her gag, but Jun clearly caught their meaning. He grinned from ear to ear.

“What was that, honey? I can't quite understand.”

Carin gave him her best Special Forces glare. She could have strangled him with her bare hands if she didn't love him so much. “Touch. My. Clit.” Who cared what it sounded like through the gag? He knew damn well what she wanted.

“Huh?”

This time, Carin just screamed from the back of her throat. He laughed. “Oh! Your clit! Sorry, honey, I must have forgotten.”

Jun grabbed a thin bit of rope dangling from the end of the dildo and tied it to the loop around Carin's waist. He positioned it carefully, placing a row of knots between her lips that applied delicious pressure right where Carin wanted it. Now, struggling could get her somewhere.

The knots slid up and down as she worked her hips. The rope dildo shifted inside her. Jun played with her nipples and stroked her face and hair as she labored toward orgasm. Everything contributed—the rough embrace of the rope around her arms, the swollen fibers in her cunt, and the sexual braille of the rope against her clit.

But Jun stopped Carin's climb before she could quite summit. With one hand on each hip, he caged her movements. “Do you feel me fucking you?” he asked, twanging the rope arranged around her cunt like a set of guitar strings. She yelped into her gag when it snapped against her clit. Carin nodded vigorously.

“Good,” Jun said. “No matter where you are. In the desert.
At the bottom of the ocean.” He gripped the end of the rope dildo and twisted it for emphasis. “You can shove my thick cock into you whenever you need it. Understand?”

Carin's moans weren't really a response. She wanted him to take her all the way. This time, he obliged, fitting the heel of his palm against the base of the dildo so she could drive her cunt against his hand and pound herself. He toyed with the rope over her clit, too, making the knots slip back and forth and up and down.

Carin jerked and strained. She pressed the rope dildo into herself as far as it could go. Jun slid the knotted rope out of the way and rubbed his thumb across her clit. The relative softness of his flesh compared to the rope made her body relax with a sigh. He increased the pressure with his thumb until Carin came, her cunt spasming around the rope phallus inside her.

Jun hauled her into his lap and held her through the aftershocks, and seemed to know just the moment she wanted out of the gag. He released the knot at the back of her neck and eased it from between her teeth. Carin worked her jaw, glad for the freedom, but still not sure what to say to him. What words could prepare them for this next separation? How could she promise him that she would return intact and loving, ready to embrace him as a wife? What words could be enough to leave him with if she didn't come back at all?

Jun ran his fingers through the rope coiled all around them on the bed. “You're mine,” he said again, and she saw how desperately he wanted to keep and hold her.

Carin released herself from his arms and got on her knees on the bed. The thin rope he'd tied around her ankle was still there. She tugged to make sure it was still secure. Its bite against her skin was soft but distinct. She met his eyes.

“Always,” Carin said.

 

 

 

 

 

That they called him at all was the first bad sign. Bryce stepped into the house that he'd been banished from three days ago and looked around. Tulle everywhere. Sequins everywhere. Roses everywhere. And from upstairs came the sound of tears.

“Oh, thank god,” said Janice, as she came down the staircase, a handkerchief pressed to her chest. “She won't listen to anybody.”

“How bad is it?” Bryce stepped over a box of wineglasses that someone had left in the foyer.

“Bad.” Janice shook her head. “She hasn't stopped crying for an hour. The shoes…it was the shoes that sent her over the edge.”

Bryce raised his hand to silence Janice. The crying grew louder, turning briefly into panting as the weeper tried to regain control of herself, before dissolving once more into tears.

The second bad sign.

“Get everyone out of the house,” he ordered Janice. “I need to be alone with Leigh.”

Nodding, Janice picked the box of wineglasses off the floor.

“I'll come back in an hour to pick her up. Is that enough time?”

Bryce thought about the possibilities; what he could do, what he should do…

“More than enough. But Janice?”

“Yes?”

“Knock first.”

Janice took Leigh's ten-year-old niece by the hand.

“I hope you know what you're doing.”

Two other women, Leigh's best friend and her favorite coworker, both barely glanced at him as they pulled on coats around puffy blue dresses.

“Don't worry,” Bryce said, already halfway up the stairs. “I do.”

Bryce found his fiancée in a pile of white satin underwear on the floor, her mascara running in miserable rivulets down her otherwise beautifully painted face.

“No. No, no, no…” Leigh covered her face with her hands. “You aren't supposed to see me. Not now. Not like this. Not ever.”

Sighing, Bryce squatted in front of her and cupped her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“I've seen you in white before. I've seen you in tears before. Seeing you right now isn't going to doom the wedding.”

“But—”

“But the bride having a nervous breakdown two hours before the ceremony might.”

She gave a little pathetic laugh and hiccuped on her tears. Had she ever looked smaller, more vulnerable, more desirable? If so, he couldn't remember when.

“Shoes? This is over shoes, young lady?” He let his voice
turn stern. She always responded best to his most fatherly tone.

“They're green…” She grabbed a high heel and brandished it in his face.

“So?”

“The dresses are blue. The dye job's…it's totally wrong.”

“So? Go barefoot. You. The bridesmaids. Everyone. Hell, I'll go barefoot. People will think it's sweet, eccentric. We'll pretend it's on purpose.”

“But—”

“Will our marriage be null and void if the shoes don't match?”

Leigh only stared at him a moment before shaking her sad head. Long chestnut curls fell across her shoulders.

“No.”

“Then fuck the shoes.”

“But—”

“One more ‘but' and I'm going to fuck the bride, too.”

Leigh's breath caught in her throat. She always gasped when he used such language with her.

“But you aren't even supposed to see me before the wedding, much less—”

“And that was another ‘but.' Up.”

Bryce stood up and waited. She didn't move.

“I'm not kidding, Leigh. Get off the floor right this second.”

For a woman in seven layers of white petticoats and four-inch high heels, Leigh got to her feet with impressive speed. Careful of the fabric, Bryce peeled it off her body until she stood naked in front of him.

Taking her by the wrist, he pulled her to the bed and she lay on her back. Leigh crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the ceiling. He loved when she played martyr like this, played the innocent, scared virgin to his wicked ravishing rake.

Bryce grasped her ankle and yanked her to the side of the mattress. From underneath the bed he pulled out a suitcase and quickly unzipped it.

“Glad your mother didn't go digging under our bed while she was here.”

“I told her that's where I kept the naked pictures of you.”

Bryce smiled his approval at her lie. There were no naked pictures of him in the house. And the naked photos of her weren't under the bed—they were on his iPhone.

“Did you have to explain that?” He pointed to the hook screwed into the ceiling above the bed.

“I said the previous owners had a lot of hanging houseplants.”

“Wicked girl…” Bryce chastised, as he pulled a two-foot spreader bar and rope from the suitcase. “Lying to your mother. You might have to be punished for that.”

He threw the rope and spreader bar down on the bed. Leigh watched him with wary eyes as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free of his pants.

“But—” she began, and that's all Bryce let her get out.

“Butt exactly. Time for something blue.” With a snap of his fingers, he ordered her onto her stomach. With his belt he landed three quick, hard strikes on her bottom and a fourth across the backs of her thighs. “Now if that doesn't make you stop stressing about shoes, I don't know what will.”

“What are shoes?” Leigh asked, as Bryce threw his belt to the floor and rolled her onto her back.

“They go on your feet,” he said.

“What are feet?” Leigh giggled, as Bryce wrapped leather cuffs around her ankles.

“They're the parts of your body that belong on my shoulders. Remember?”

She met his eyes and smiled shyly at him.

“Oh, yeah…now I remember,” she whispered.

Quickly Bryce threaded the rope through Leigh's ankle cuffs and tied a knot to hold the rope taut. He cuffed her feet to each end of the spreader bar before hoisting her legs into the air. He loved her like this—tied up, immobile, her body belonging to him and him alone.

Dropping to his knees, he gently licked her open folds. He tasted the sweetness of her desire for him and the sweat of her nervousness. His poor little girl; he knew they should have eloped. But Leigh had a bad habit of trying to please everyone. Someday she'd understand she had no one to please but herself and him. And she pleased him every single day…

He pushed his tongue into her to get her as wet as possible. He moved his mouth to her clitoris and sucked gently on it as he inserted his fingers and kneaded her G-spot. Leigh bucked and moaned as he pushed in a third finger, then a fourth. She loved being penetrated, would even beg for it when he withheld it to punish her. But he couldn't withhold himself from her today. In two hours they'd be married—joined spiritually and legally into one. But what mattered now was to be joined physically, sexually—and the sooner, the better.

Leigh's breathing quickened as Bryce pushed his fingers even deeper into her wet heat. Her muscles tightened around his hand. He kneaded her clitoris even harder with his tongue until her whole body went taut and she cried out, her fluid pouring from deep within her and over his face.