Kinky Boots (Mischief Books) (9 page)

She nodded. ‘And what about you?’

‘Meinrad’s acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.

At last he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered to breathe again.

Finn said nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladderback chair to the side of the bed and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the headboard.

In the beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a need that was replicated in her pussy.

Meinrad worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again.

Yes, she was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of the rope along her spine.

With a tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks.. Then without warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.

There was barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the whole event.

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

She nodded, swallowing the panic back down against the hammering of her heart that seemed to fill the whole inside of her from the space where her brain was supposed to be all the way down to her trussed up pussy.

‘Then you have to relax,’ he said. ‘Breathe slowly and deeply. And trust me. Can you do that?’

She glanced at Finn who gave the tiniest nod of his head, and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nodded her consent.

‘Good girl,’ Meinrad whispered. Then he untied her wrists with a single slip of a knot. She barely had time to feel the rope slide away before Finn joined Meinrad. Each man took one of her arms and bound it to the brasswork of the headboard. They began their efforts just below her arm pits and worked their way down to her wrists, the ropes like two snakes coiling away from her. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through, until at last her arms were as spread and as open as her legs, bound across the headboard as though she were about to be crucified.

She closed her eyes, fighting back panic again, fighting back tears, fighting back an avalanche of emotions she hadn’t expected. She had let two men she barely knew bind her until she was totally helpless. They said they’d release her. They said all she had to do was ask. So why the hell wouldn’t she ask? What kind of people enjoyed tying up an innocent woman? What kind of neurotic nutter would willingly let herself be tied up, even ask for it? As she struggled to breathe, the tears came unbidden. She couldn’t wipe them away. She couldn’t hide them. She was powerless, and being naked was nothing compared to whatever else was laid bare, whatever it was that made her weep like a stupid child. There was no sign of Eleanor, who’d promised her she’d never be a prisoner as long as she resided inside her. Well, how much more of a prisoner could she be? And how could it be that somewhere in the mix of panic and anger and frustration and fear, and so many other feelings she couldn’t sort out, her body still buzzed with arousal?

‘Shshsh!’

Her eyes fluttered open just as Finn planted a kiss on her lips. ‘It’s all right, Jill. You’re all right.’ He motioned to Meinrad who brought him a mirror that reminded Jill of the kind used at hairdressers.

‘Leave us,’ Finn said without looking away from her. Meinrad turned silently and left the room.

‘Look at you,’ Finn said, holding the mirror first to her tear-streaked face, then to the incredible bulge of her breasts and nipples, which he cupped and caressed. He placed a kiss upon each one before he moved the mirror down between her legs. ‘Look how beautiful you are.’ With the hand not holding the mirror he pressed gently on the knot resting against her clit and she whimpered and jerked against her bonds. Then he moved a finger with a feather touch down where she was pressed between the two strands of rope. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into her restrained cleft, and the sound that came from her throat was primal, angry, full of need.

But Finn kept stroking and probing. She could feel herself slickening and swelling around his fingers, and she struggled to move against him to get the stimulation she needed. But the shifting of her hips only tightened the knots against her. She could see all of it, every press and grind and quiver, in the mirror Finn held between her legs. Before she could struggle further, he lay the mirror aside and placed a restraining hand on the flat of her belly. ‘Hold still, Jill. Just hold still and let me do it.’ Still probing and scissoring her slit with two fingers, he opened his fly, and she watched as he manoeuvred his arching erection free.

‘I’m going to fuck you now, Jill, because I’ve waited long enough. And you’re going to hold still while I do it, while I make you come. Then I’m going to fill your little trussed-up pussy until you can’t hold any more because that’s how full I am for you.’ He pulled off his jeans and positioned himself between her bound legs, where he lifted and manoeuvred her until she was practically on his lap, while she held her breath in anticipation. God, he couldn’t possibly need it more than she did.

At last he rose up onto his haunches and pushed into her, until she supported all of her weight on her bound arms and on his body. The grimace on his face, the growl in his throat, the way he caught his breath could have been little different if he had just been run through with a knife. The fit of him inside her, which was always tight, was made still tighter by the bind of the ropes. The pressure his body exerted drove the knots into her clit and her backside in an exquisite cocktail of pain and pleasure and simulation of raw nerve endings that she had never experienced before and wasn’t sure she would survive to experience again. How could anything be so uncomfortable and so exquisite at the same time?

With the second thrust, he rose up onto his knees and ripped his T-shirt off over his head so that his bare chest rubbed against her bulging breasts in rhythm to the tug and press of the knots. Then he cupped her bottom and impaled her still deeper. She could neither bear down nor press up to meet him, bound as she was. He wasn’t being gentle, nor did she want him to be. At the moment, she wanted him to rip her apart if that’s what it took to scratch the itch that threatened to drive her totally insane.

‘I think I’m gonna die,’ she gasped.

‘Not before you come,’ he grunted. ‘Not before we both come.’

And she did. She came in an exquisite convulsion of pain and pleasure. His orgasm spilled into her like a tidal wave, the weight of it hammering her insides even as the weight of his body abraded her tender flesh beneath the caress of the ropes.

She was still crying and trembling as he unbound her with efficient efforts that took far less time than she would have imagined. When she was free, and her limbs tingled with the returning ability to move, he took off her boots and rubbed her legs vigorously.

Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. Someone had drawn a warm bath fragrant with lavender and other herbs she didn’t recognise, all making mountains of foam in an enormous roll-top tub. He settled her into the suds and, with a soft sponge, gently began to wash the tender places that bore the red marks of the ropes. And still she cried like she’d never stop. He said nothing, only silently, carefully tended her. At last, when he had done all he could do, he disappeared and returned with a sandwich and a bottle of cold water, which she drank down thirstily. Then he fed her until she had eaten her fill and the sobbing had subsided.

That done, he climbed into the bathtub behind her, pulled her in between his thighs and pillowed her head against his chest, where she dozed close to the beating of his heart. When she came back to herself, he was helping her out of the tub and drying her with a thick terry towel. He carried her to his bed, tucked her in, settled in next to her and pulled her close.

‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

It was then she realised that inside her Eleanor was blissful. She nodded her reply, barely able to hold her eyes open. ‘It was what I wanted.’ There was a long stretch of silence, but she could almost feel him looking at her in the darkness.

‘You’re not sorry?’ he asked.

Eleanor’s bliss was expansive, or maybe it wasn’t all Eleanor’s bliss. Hadn’t she read somewhere that cathartic experiences could become ecstatic? It was too much to think about now. She sighed. ‘No. No, I’m not sorry, Finn. I’m not sorry at all. I just never imagined it would make me feel … like this.’

‘There. You see, that wasn’t so bad, was it? In fact it was delicious, for her and for me.’

‘You were fairly subtle,’ Finn said. ‘That was a surprise.’

Instantly Jill knew she was dreaming, and yet it felt as though she were eavesdropping. She was sitting in the ladderback chair next to Finn’s bed. No, she was actually tied to the ladderback chair with dozens of elegant knots. From her bound position she watched herself, elbow bent, head resting on one hand, looking down at Finn who lay next to her. Of course it wasn’t her, was it? It was Eleanor. That was obvious to her from her position of observation in the dream world.

‘It was Jill’s fantasy, remember? And I get the most out of her body when I let her control the experience.’ Eleanor offered Finn a little pout. ‘Meinrad must have been terribly disappointed that, after all his efforts to bind her so beautifully, you didn’t allow him to fuck her.’ She lay back on the pillow, one hand stroking her erect nipple above the duvet. ‘Still, I suppose he’ll get his chance. She’ll want to fuck him, you know?’

‘Maybe not,’ Finn said.

‘She isn’t as fragile as you think. She would have been fine to shag Meinrad. She was in such a state, Meinrad would have only enhanced what she was feeling.’

‘It was my call to make, Eleanor, so just drop it.’ Finn shoved the duvet back and sat up on the edge of the bed, and Jill admired the straight lines of his back, ending in the muscular swell of his buttocks half hidden by the mattress and duvet.

Eleanor ran a finger down the length of his spine to linger at the crack of his arse, just exactly as Jill would have done if she had been lying there next to him. ‘I think you’re jealous. I think that’s why you wouldn’t let Meinrad fuck her. The same reason you wouldn’t let that bloke at Juno fuck her. You don’t want anyone else inside her, do you?’

‘That’s ridiculous, Eleanor. I just want her to be safe, and thanks to you, I can’t guarantee that, can I?’