Nawashi (17 page)
Authors: Gray Miller
Tags: #thriller, #action, #bdsm, #sex magic, #rope bondage, #kink, #graydancer
her trapezius muscles, and smoothed the cloth of the robe where it
had been bunched by the rope. Every motion, every breath, was
deliberate as he continued to loop the ropes down her back in
pairs, each set binding her arms further back as he tightened the
knots. Her shoulders were rotated and pulled back further and
further as the bindings traveled down her arms, her elbows drawn
together almost—but not quite—touching.
Francesca shifted her focus behind her,
feeling the flow move up and down her spine as the energy from her
breath poured into the already charged ropes. Each set of loops,
beginning with the ones on her shoulders, felt cool, somehow,
counteracting the heat of her body… no, that wasn’t quite right.
The cold energy of the ropes complemented the lush warmth of her
skin, in a burning reaction that seemed, in her minds eye, to send
steaming tendrils of reaction everywhere they pulled against her
muscles.
As Brian bound the final loops around her
wrists, the shifting of her torso caused her silk robe to fall
open, and her awareness of the ropes was distracted by the sudden
exposure of her nipples to the cool air. Brian sensed this, and
without any break in the smooth motion reached around to the front
and drew the folds of robe back over her breasts. There was no
sense of modesty or propriety in the motion, it was a simple
matter-of-fact necessity done with no more or less gravity than
when he slid his fingers under her hair to lay it across the front
of her neck. Francesca sent a feeling of gratitude towards him, no
words needed in this shared moment of consciousness, and again
began to breathe around and through the ropes traveling down her
arms.
Brian finished the tie on
her wrist, making sure the final loops were not impairing
circulation, and stepped back, for a moment, to examine the
drakenfly
tie. The final
tails of rope had been coiled like a tight spring along her sacrum,
and the symmetry of the glowing bands added a strength and
stability to the power growing as she breathed into the
ropes.
He closed his eyes, for
just moment, to try and feel the energies as they grew, and that’s
when they attacked. A wave of desolation washed over him as the
tiny imperfections in the knots were magnified, the subtle
imbalances in the tails, even the tiny tufted frays along the rope,
all suddenly seemed to be chinks in the field of power they were
building. He could feel the pain in his knees,left from the strain
of sitting in
seiza
, and it seemed to pulse with the same rhythm as he’d felt
from the rope and the breath, a dull ache building. Suddenly
Brian’s arms seemed to acquire a hollowness, his hands a spastic
tremor. He couldn’t see the ropework in his mind, couldn’t even
open his eyes, and with a rush of white noise he felt his balance
begin to tilt in the room.
different form. Her power had always come from the ability to
visualize herself with an objectivity that lent a self-voyeuristic
thrill to the process, an added layer of mental stimulation to
whatever activity she was part of. Her responsiveness to the
opening of her robe had come not only from the sensation of the
silk sliding across and suddenly exposing the curve of her breast,
but also from her awareness of how that sudden exposure of the dark
pink bud would look, the special sensuality of revealed flesh.
Now that awareness was gone. There was
nothing but a growing discomfort as she lost the breath, lost the
glowing contrast between rope and skin, lost any visualization of
her situation, and with it the safety and security that had been
building with…
Brian.
The one thing she realized was still there—though she had a
feeling he wasn’t aware of it—was that thread of connection between
herself and Brian, that had started when their eyes met at the
beginning of the ceremony. She fought the gray tide of noise that
seemed to filling her head, pushing down through the fog of
diminished awareness to find that glowing tendril of connection.
She pulled up the sense memory of the first touch on her shoulder,
magnified it until she could feel again the warmth of his hand
cupping her, turning her, the dance beginning, and then sent that
feeling with as much force as she could through the connection to
try, somehow, to reach him…
Brian’s eyes snapped open
as the white noise flooding his senses was shattered by the clear
crystal note of the bond of power came from Francesca. With a rush
of synaesthesia the elements of the room came into focus, seeing
the smells of the incense, feeling the light of the candles on his
skin, the scent of blue silk and silver rope filling him, driving
away the insecurities. The variances in knots and rope that had
seemed like weaknesses a moment before suddenly were revealed for
what they were, expressions of individuality and the powerful
ephemerality of this experience. He felt his shoulders loosen as
his arms again filled with the power and energy infused in the art
of the rope. Taking a small step forward, he reached up and touched
her shoulder again, reinforcing the connection. Her skin was warmer
than before, and he let the heat of his palm merge with it,
blending their breathing as well as they both continued the cycle
of feeding the energy to the
drakenfly
binding traveling down her
back.
robe falling open again, soft beige skin glowing in the light in
contrast to the dark sheen of her robe falling in parallel down her
body. Their eyes met, and the last vestiges of fear that had come
from the attack were washed away in the smile they shared.
“Thanks,” he said softly, and reached for the second coil of rope.
She thought she could feel the frustrated impotence of the
Repressors as their destructive influence was countered and then
overcome by their confident sharing as the ceremony continued.
Brian held the rope in his hands a moment,
considering her body and trying to see where the strands wanted to
lay to let the power flow. The initial tie had been a base to build
from, a grounding strength akin to the casting of a circle in a
Wiccan ritual. It was a necessary part, to open her body and mind
and provide a circulation of energy from which to draw for the rest
of the ceremony, but the next part was in some ways more important.
Casting the circle is one thing; it’s what happens within the
circle that really counts. And what Brian would create with the
rope, drawing its intricate design around her body and through her
awareness, would give them the power and effect they needed.
Suddenly he saw it—the opening steps, at
least, and deeper in his consciousness a glimpse of the final tie,
the pattern. Frustratingly, there was no more than a glimpse, but
it was enough; he knew where to begin.
From the front, the only
evidence of the bindings flowing down her back was the two loops
around each shoulder, gleaming silver bands pulling the robe apart.
Brian pulled a loop of rope through each of the bands, stretching a
single strand of rope just under the hollow of her throat, and
began pulling the loops through, like wings appearing on either
side. As he pulled the rope, he kept his eyes on hers, knowing that
she was feeling the line stroking up along her thighs, the slight
rise of her mons, the insides of her breasts, the first direct
sexual contact hitting them both with a slight widening of the
eyes, a deepening of the breath, and a thickening of the
pulse.
When did I become aware of her
pulse?
Brian wondered for a moment, but
there it was, strong and throbbing in the curve of her
neck.
He let the tails fall down
along the outside of her breasts, and slowly knelt again in
seiza
. His hair softly
brushed her belly, unintentionally, as he gathered the tails and
drew them each around the outside of her thighs, reaching around to
gather behind her. He was very careful not to touch her directly,
allowing their proximity to charge the inches of air separating
them with implied contact. She also didn’t move at all, allowing
the feeling of the ropes to heighten the connection, focusing as
the lines traveled in parallel around the lower curve of her ass,
their constriction pushing them up slightly, still covered by the
silk but suddenly feeling more exposed and open.
Brian continued the
wrapping twice around her upper thighs, and as her legs were drawn
tighter together Francesca could feel her labia, thick with the
beginning of arousal, pushing together. She fought the urge to
shift her thighs and let them rub
Oh, yes,
rub!
together. She focused instead on the
breathing, more and more, letting the energy from the ropes in her
arms meet and flow across the line drawing against her sternum,
down the sides of her breasts, the corresponding glow of arousal
from each radiating out from the stiffened nipples, and letting it
circle around her vulva, the flow building and radiating waves that
excited her more. She felt the slow gathering of energies in her
body continue to rise, the methodical pace lending a strength to
the tide of pleasure that was still only hinted at, only a
burgeoning promise deep in her mind.
tips of the tails through a simple overhand knot at the meeting of
her upper thighs. He stood smoothly again, not stepping back,
allowing their almost-touch to continue to charge their awareness,
and brought his gaze to hers. His face held a relaxed expression,
open and devoid of any lasciviousness, matching her calm
half-smile. He began pulling the tails up through the knot, slowing
the process and subtly pulling the ropes so that their surface
occasionally brushed her mons, the friction of the tails coming
through the knot causing a slight vibration in the bands cupping
her ass, heightening her awareness of it. She managed to maintain
composure until all but a third of the rope tails had been drawn
through, and then a small but unmistakable shiver went through her,
just for a moment. The connection between them suddenly sharpened
into a pull, giving it the strength of a high-tension line.
The currents of energy
began to thicken in the air between them, and she realized the
sensitivity of her hands at the beginning had spread to the rest of
her body, with the energy seeming to vibrate through her as it
flowed through the ropes.
Time to shift
the visualization,
she realized. She
forced herself to divert a portion of her awareness to the target,
casting out and finding, rather easily, the Senator’s son
twenty-three miles away. He was glowing with the raw lust of any
teen, and his own particular power, reinforced by the privilege of
his family, cast out from him in her mind’s eye like pseudopods,
hungrily grasping at the eager auras of the women at the party with
him.
visualization, because he gave a soft chuckle as he used the tails
drawing up from her crotch to loop into the rope at her sternum.
“So that’s the secret of you Urban Sex Mages,” he murmured softly.
“It all really does come down to tentacle sex?”
For a moment she was taken
aback by his levity, and a small burst of anger came out of her
awareness.
How dare he make light of this?
We’re working to—
and suddenly she gasped
as he cast the tails around the back of her knees, pulling them
suddenly and breaking her balance. She felt a rush of terror as she
began to fall forward, her hands bound behind her helpless to break
her fall, then another rush of sensation as his skin suddenly met
hers, body pressing against her, taking her weight easily and
holding her there, off balance, floating in a state between upright
and horizontal.
He held her there while
their breathing matched again, then continued to lower her to the
floor, folding her knees with a light pressure to her legs and then
helping her lift her spine until she, too, was in
seiza,
facing him.
“Misdirection. Works every time,” he said with a showman’s
confidence, and she was reminded that a part of his power was in
his ability to manipulate not so much the rope as the audience that
watched, using their power to feed into his art and increase its
potency.
And in this case, he’s got an
audience of exactly one, and he got what he needed.
Though her breathing had calmed, the pulse in her
neck was twice as fast as before, and she felt tiny snaps like
sparks bursting over her skin from the rush of blood. The ropes
were clearly glowing now, pulsing with every breath.
He stood again, looking
down at her as he held the tails of the rope. “Endgame. Are you
ready?” She nodded, and closed her eyes, surrendering to the
feeling of the connection completely, letting her awareness fade
from
self
and
other
to simply the moment. Had she been capable of verbalizing,
she would have thought it a grand place to be, but she was too busy
being there… .
Brian grounded himself,
feeling his heels push into the rug, feeling his connection to the
ropes he held and the energy that circulated and moved through her
and the twining strands flow through his legs, his shoulders,
seeming to fountain out of the top of his head… and then began to
pull the tails up, in a diagonal line across his body, his empty
hand travelling downward in the same diagonal, the classic
tenchi
heaven-and-earth
symmetry lending its own power to the process.
