Firebird (18 page)

Prosper had long since gotten over the fact that her family was different. She had an entire part of her family and history living far away on some Amish farmland, completely uncaring that she was alive. The family she did have, she had broken with for complex reasons that she couldn’t share with him, that she couldn’t share with anyone. Dance was her family now, the other dancers her siblings. The company was her parent, and the theater was her home.

And Jackson was her life. Two weeks without him. Merry Christmas and happy New Year.

After dinner she wanted to forget about the holidays, forget about the fact that he was going away. She felt grouchy and emotional. She wanted him to hurt her so she could bawl the way she wanted to and he wouldn’t know it was because of him. He put his elbows on the table and looked over at her. She rolled up her napkin and placed it next to her plate and waited, as she did every night, for directions.

“Clothes off and go stand facing the wall. That wall,” he specified, pointing to the far side of the living room. Familiar emotions assailed her. Shame, nervousness, and hot, shivery arousal. She stood and undressed, then walked to the opposite wall, hyperaware of her nudity. She kept her hands at her sides as she’d been taught. No covering up. When she reached the wall, she stood against it, her nipples and knees touching the cool white-painted surface as Jackson required. She heard him leave the room, go up the stairs. A moment later she heard him padding back down.

She jumped when he put his hand on her hip. The thick carpet muffled everything. His other hand parted her ass cheeks and probed there. She blushed and burned, but she didn’t dare pull away or make any defensive movements. The hand left, then returned. She felt cold lube shoved up inside her. He played with her ass a lot, training it, he said. He seemed to believe he’d be able to fuck her there one day, but she was doubtful. He was big; she was small.

Ouch.
Ouch
. Speaking of big, the toy he was pressing against her was stretching her painfully. She moaned, frightened of being hurt. He withdrew it, but it was only temporary relief, because next time he drove it a little deeper. In, out, increasing its forward progress in small increments until he finally drove it home. It was the biggest plug he’d ever used on her, and she felt it inside her like some unwelcome invader. Her ass ached as she clenched around the toy, unable to relieve the unnatural feeling of fullness. He pressed on it for good measure so she shuddered, and then he kissed her shoulder. She wanted to look back at him, to question him, to be soothed by him, but she knew her eyes were supposed to stay forward. She stared at the white wall and then felt something ticklish trail down her back. It took a while for her to place the sensation. Frayed rope.

“Give me your hands.”

It was a relief to hear him speak. She thrust her hands behind her back.

“No, over your head. Cross your wrists behind the back of your neck.”

She reached up and back, crossing her wrists as he’d told her to. The itchy-soft rope slid down her forearms, a sensory tease that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. He wrapped each wrist three or four times, then drew them together, letting out the rope a little. She felt a tugging as the two lengths of rope securing her wrists were pulled down and wrapped around the front of her waist, then around back again, and pulled snug. She felt him manipulating the rope in the middle of her back, cinching the ropes together, then felt both lengths drop down between her buttocks, over the flange of the toy stuck in her ass.

She held her breath as his hands came around the front. What he was doing to her felt so novel. No one had ever played with her this way, teasing and trussing her up so slowly and with such intent care.

His fingers played over her skin in soft tickly caresses as he moved the rope and formed the knots. Each light touch aroused her, sent frissons of lust arcing through her veins. She knew she couldn’t look away from the wall, but she was sure the expression on his face was similar to the expression he wore in the studio when he was pushing her into this position or that, looking for that perfect arch or port de bras. She loved his face when it looked that way, how he looked when he was bringing his visions to life. She imagined herself as his canvas, his sculpture, his work of art.

She subdued the animal urge to grind her hips and stood still like a statue as he drew the ropes up between her legs, parting her ass cheeks so the rope rested right against the toy. He stopped and knelt beside her, then pushed her out from the wall. She stole a look down and saw him making a loose knot in the ropes, his mouth pursed in concentration. When he finished, he slid the knot between her pussy lips. Her breath was coming in little gasps. What he was doing to her had her so turned on she was afraid her legs would give out. She wanted to arch into the knot, relieve some of the erotic tension she was feeling, but she didn’t dare.

He stopped and frowned, apparently unsatisfied with the placement. He pulled the rope away and adjusted it twice more until the knot rested squarely on her clit. She was going to shame herself in a minute and come without permission. She was humiliated by the wetness that must have coated his fingers and surely soaked the rope. He gave it a good tug in front. She felt the toy bob in her ass, felt the scratching pressure on her clit and pussy lips, and moaned. He ignored her, leaning to secure the ropes over the crossed area at the front of her waist. He stood and looked at her.

“How does that feel?”

She wanted to answer but found herself only able to pant.

“That good? I’m glad you’re comfortable. I have a few things to do before I get back to you.” He turned her so she faced out into the room and walked away.

She stood, throbbing, melting. A quick test of her bonds revealed the devious efficacy of his design. The slightest shift to relieve the strain on her arms resulted in the rope between her legs being pulled more tightly, driving the toy in her ass deeper, the knot more firmly against her clit. She spread her legs, but it didn’t help. It only made things worse.

She glanced over at Jackson clearing the table and was quite certain she saw a smile on his face. Sadist. It was impossible to stand still, but more impossible to bear the aching tease of arousal that resulted every time she moved. How long would he make her wait this way, tied and sopping wet between the legs?

It was far longer than she thought she could bear. Jackson cleaned the kitchen, then wrapped a few presents. He spent some time on the computer while she watched and tried to stand still. Finally he shut down his program and turned to her. He sat back in his chair and watched in silence from across the room. His intent gaze made it even more difficult not to pull and strain at the ropes that held her fast.

Please, please, she thought. Please don’t make me tell you how I feel. She couldn’t put it into words, how strong her feelings were for him. Strong enough to make the rope that held her obsolete. He held her with something much more inescapable than the knotted rope. When he shoved back his chair and crossed to her, shedding his clothes, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter Fourteen

His hands came around her waist and tugged at the rope so her clit throbbed.

“Do you want to come, girl?”

She tried to communicate the depth of arousal she felt in the only two words she was permitted at times like this. “Yes, Sir.”

“I bet you do.” He tugged at the rope again, and she moaned out a plea. “Down.”

He helped her kneel, her arms still cinched behind her neck, her pussy still bisected by the unforgiving rope. Her ass clenched around the toy as he backed her against the wall. Her elbows and head were braced back against it, and she teetered on her knees, finding a center of balance. When she was steady, he left to sheathe himself, then returned and stood before her. He trapped her against the wall, brought his cock to her lips. She opened for him, running her tongue around the swollen head, exploring the familiar dimensions. The latex felt slick as she traced the ridge along the underside of his shaft. He groaned and leaned against the wall on one hand, twisting the other in her hair. He drove into her mouth, and she was powerless to stop him, not that she wanted to. She opened her mouth and throat for his pleasure.

Over time he’d trained a lot of the gag reflex out of her, so she only rarely choked and spluttered. Her arms, though, ached as his thrusts pushed her harder against the wall. She felt helpless and trapped, but then felt the emotional release, the easing of fear and the welcome tumble into subspace.

The rope knot was pulled back and forth across her clit with each thrust; rough, inescapable stimulation reminding her constantly of her predicament. Reminding her constantly that she’d been captured in rope by him. His cock found the back of her throat, filling her senses with his masculine smell and closeness. Her thighs began to ache from tensing and untensing as the knot stimulated her clit. She moaned, the pleasure of the scratch and slide was so acute. Her moans against his cock seemed to drive him, and he began fucking her face. The knot against her clit was torturing, teasing her. Her hips jerked against it, seeking more. She was so close, so close!

His fingers tightened in her hair. “No. Don’t dare.”

She tried to distract herself, nearly insane from hovering at the edge of a release she wasn’t allowed to reach. Soon afterward he growled and drove deep in her throat, shooting his load. She waited, barely remembering to be still and patient with his cock in her mouth as he’d taught her.
Obey. Submit
. But she wanted so much more, so much more she was almost insane. He eased out of her mouth with a sigh, then lifted her to her feet, grinning down at her. No doubt her desperation was written all over her face. His hand grasped between her legs, pulling at the knot again, pushing it against her clit.

“Please!” She begged for respite.

“What? You want to come, girl?”

“Yes, please, Sir. Please, I really do!”

He pulled her forward with her pussy lips cupped in his hand, leaned close so his hot breath was in her ear.

“There is only one way you’re coming tonight, and that’s with my cock buried deep inside your ass. Do you understand?”

She moaned.

“Do you understand, girl? Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“‘Yes, Sir. I can only come tonight with your cock in my ass.’”

“Yes, Sir, I can only come tonight with your cock in my ass. Please!”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get what you’re begging for. Upstairs. Come on.”

He took her up to the bedroom still trussed in rope and made her kneel, then pushed her forward until she was hunched over, her knees drawn into her chest. Then he checked all the ropes for tautness, his soft touches like fire trails burning on her skin. Again she felt the ache in her arms, and the more visceral, scary-hot feeling of restricted movement and powerlessness in his hands.

When he was satisfied with her position and the rope placement, particularly the placement of the knot against her clit, he picked up a flogger and heated her skin all over, from her back down to her ass. The evil leather strips wrapped around the bottom of her ass cheeks and made her jump from the sharp licks of pain. Each time she tensed and pulled her arms down, the rope dug into her molten center. The plug still spread her wide open. All the sensations built and merged inside her. She was wild to take his cock, to feel him fucking her. Her shrieks and yelps at the flogging soon turned to a drawn-out whine of despair.

“Please!”

He held the flogger still. “Please what, girl?”

She bit her lip and wiggled her ass. He brought the flogger down on the moving target, and she drew her knees in even more tightly against her chest with a low moan. She felt overpowered with lust, defeated by the ropes that held and tormented her as surely as he did. He had conquered her, and all the power was his. She was beyond dignity, beyond decorum. “Please…please—”

Again the tails bit into her, the inside of her thighs this time. “Try again. Tell me what you want.”

“Please…please! Your cock—”

“‘Please fuck my ass, Sir’ will work nicely for me.”

“Please fuck my ass, Sir!” she begged. “Please!”

She heard him drop the flogger on the nightstand and get a condom from the drawer. She shivered with excitement and fear as she heard the package rattle. Would it hurt? The training was over. He was going to take her there now, in that tiny tight hole, and she had no way to stop him.

He knelt beside her and felt for the knot at the front and unwound it. As the knot fell away from her clit, he ran his fingers over it so her hips jerked. He flipped the rope up over her back, loosening the other knots so her arms fell forward to brace on the floor. She groaned as the large toy was withdrawn from her ass and more lube deposited in its place. It was so humiliating, but she was past the point of caring. If she didn’t get to come, she would die. He took her hips and touched his cock to her narrow opening.

“Just relax.” He held her still with one hand on her neck while the other guided him into her farther, farther. The pain was immediate. She tensed and tried to pull away. He made a sound of frustration and withdrew. She felt more cold lube and, again, the pressure of his cock against her asshole. His hand kneaded her hip, her sore bottom cheek. “Open for me. Let me fuck your ass, and I’ll let you come.”

“I can’t!” It hurt so much more than she’d expected.

“I won’t hurt you. Just let it happen. It will hurt a lot less once it’s in.” As he spoke, he worked the head in deeper. Again she tensed, but he stayed still in her, his hands on both her hips now. “Wait, girl. Just…wait.”

She waited. It was true; she wasn’t dying. She was adjusting to him. She could feel herself relax around him. She felt her body begin to loosen, accept the inescapable invasion.

“Okay?”

In answer, she arched her hips a little. It didn’t hurt anymore. No pain, just an incredible feeling of fullness. He drove deeper, little by little, every inch of his cock a revelation to her of just how deeply she could submit. He let out his breath in a gasp, withdrew, and fell forward again, sliding in all the way to the hilt. She clenched her fists and arched back against him. She basked in every sensation—the warmth of his front against her back, the hardness of his stomach trapping her, his fingers digging into her hips. His thick cock opened her up again and again, a steady invasion and sharp, erotic burn that gave her a sense of both vulnerability and fulfillment.