Jenna's Consent (17 page)

Down they went again and this time he placed even more of
his weight on her back. His control magnified by her arms being folded up and
trapped beneath her. It was hard to breathe and she loved it, especially with
the corset on. He nipped her ear and whispered, “Come for me, with my cock
inside. Give it to me.”

He punctuated each word with a thrust, forcing her to take
him, to take all of him, simply because he wanted her to.

Blissful tension tightened her body, spreading like a brush
fire in a field plagued by drought.

She owed this man nothing. He held no sway over her
conscious mind, nor body but something inside her listened to him. Somewhere
deep inside her she needed to follow his command.

“Come,” he snarled in her ear right before he bit her
shoulder.

“Yes,” she called out as her body flew apart beneath him.
Orgasmic waves crashed against her. Tossing her out to sea, just to drag her
back to shore on the next crest.

He hugged her tight, riding her through her orgasm as he
came inside the condom he wore. He cursed as he bit and sucked at her flesh,
surely hard enough to leave a mark that she’d wear for the next few days.

She panted beneath him, wishing for the second time in so
many days she were brave enough to remove the corset and be next to a man skin
to skin.

Heart to heart.

Everywhere else his skin met hers goose bumps jumped up,
maybe so she could touch him more. She tucked her face into the crook his elbow
made and she inhaled, drawing his scent inside her, wanting it there for
always.

Her tongue peeked out, licking his skin as her whole body
jolted beneath his.

“You taste good,” she whispered and he cursed once again,
grabbing her hair and tugging it back, twisting it sharply so he could kiss
her.

He took her mouth just like he’d taken her pussy a little
while earlier.

There was no permission requested and somehow he knew he
didn’t need it. She licked his bottom lip and he plunged his tongue inside. He
wrenched his head away again and bit her hard enough to leave a mark. She
couldn’t think of anyone but Ian.

He’d been a biter and she’d liked it.

His teeth made another appearance, nibbling at her mouth and
chin, across to her cheek and down.

Her head was too heavy to fight gravity so she relaxed,
laying it on the bed. Enjoying the last few thrusts of her stand-ins movement
multiplied her reaction to him.

She floated in foggy la-la land, crying because she was so
happy. In her head Ian’s voice filled it. Words of love, requests of
forgiveness and that he’d never leave her again. Not ever.

There were no responses she could tell herself that made
anything like that even feasible. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back, but being
able to have some kind of closure, even when she knew it wasn’t rational,
helped.

Rationality didn’t really have much to do with love though.

At least that was something else she’d learned.

She’d liked having sex with Ian when they were younger.
Hottest sex she’d ever had, until very recently. But her memory didn’t hold a
candle to what’d just happened between Nick and this guy or the possibilities
of what it might be to have it on a permanent basis.

Doubt crept in but then Nick’s voice was next to her, “I’ve
got her. Thanks, man.”

The stranger withdrew from her sore sheath and slowly got up
from the bed.

As Nick maneuvered her beneath the covers of the bed, she
hid behind the blindfold as the stranger got dressed and left. His identity was
something she didn’t want to know.

Not ever.

Him leaving quickly, without another touch, another word or
gesture… She knew it was for the best. He’d done what he’d come to do, be a
third for Nick and her, but she couldn’t help being a bit sad at the loss of
his presence.

Jenna burrowed down in the bed, getting comfortable as Nick
tugged her close.

“I didn’t know how you’d handle it.”

“It what?” she mumbled, feeling strange talking with a
natural volume. She wanted to hum the theme song from
The Sound of Music
with how languid and amazing she felt.

He tugged her blindfold off but she kept her eyes closed.
“Two guys. You blow my damn mind as you take everything I want to throw at
you.”

Tears leaked from her eyes and onto his chest again and she
cried for all of the reasons she still wanted to bury her head in the sand.
This time it wasn’t so scary. She wasn’t alone after all.

Each time she got a little bit closer to really giving
herself to him.

She’d kept herself so insulated during just the talks about
the hard stuff, but it was getting easier with Nick. Aftercare had been a hard
limit for her with anyone for a while. “I’ve tended to stay by myself so long.
I’d forgotten how wonderful the after portion could be.”

She snuggled in close, curling up next to Nick…

Normally she hit sub-drop pretty hard after the adrenaline
crashes in her system after a scene.

But with Nick it wasn’t too bad. With him she felt like
herself. It was amazing. She checked out the clock on the wall beside the bed.

Two o’clock. Earliest she’d been able to go to bed for the
last several nights, and for once she knew she was going to sleep wonderfully.

She fell into a deep sleep, wondering where the man was who
should have been spooned behind her.

Standing in her living room the next day, she stared at the
contact screen on her phone.

The man she thought of as her grandfather was in Japan,
where she’d last seen him. It was beyond words late on the other side of the
world and she’d successfully tried to talk herself out of calling several
times.

The inner pep talk just wasn’t sticking.

“Fuck it.” She pushed the call button and listened to the
ringing, trying to calm her nerves.

The connection opened. “I haven’t spoken to you in months
and you decide to call at three a.m. Truly,
nakayoshi
, what am I to do
with you?” His soothing raspy voice, tinged with his usual humor, revealed his
happiness at her phone call.

“Love and adore me until the end of time?” It was the same
question and question they’d done with each other for years. Emotions
threatened to drown her when he answered.

“
Hai, zhutto
. Forever.”

She tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder to
continue the task she’d been working on before she called. The last thing she
wanted to do was worry him so she brushed away her tears. Feeling loved from
the one man who’d never let her down buoyed her spirits. “How are you? I miss
you.”

“Well. Very well. Staying out of trouble—mostly.”

She touched the strands of silk strewn across her living
room, rolling her eyes. “You get in more trouble at your age than most people
get into for an entire lifetime.”

“Amateurs.”

His chuckle made her smile and she picked up another spool
of fiber.

“What are you doing, my
magomusume
?”

She froze with her hand outstretched toward the basket
filled with the material she couldn’t walk away from.

His nickname for her always lightened her heart but
uncertainty closed in all around her at his question.

For a moment, she thought about lying but that would be a
great disservice to him.

“Making rope.”

To say it was a huge deal equated to calling Mount Everest a
mole hill. She hadn’t done it in more than two years. She cringed, worrying he
would ask what prompted the change but instead he asked her about the rope
itself.

“And what kind are you whetting your appetite with?”

“Italian silk.”

“Shibari length?

“Is there any other length?”

“Ahh, correct answer. What are you mixing with the silk,
linen?”

She grabbed another spool of silk and tore off the plastic
wrapping. “Yes a bit of linen and a bit of hemp as well. I made a batch
earlier. It came out tiger-striped with bits of black peeking through. Really
pretty.”

A narrow four-inch bar-style handle was screwed into the
jamb of her front door. Across her living room and into the open dining room, a
matching handle was screwed into a corner stud using anchors.

To make her rope base she tied off strands of several
materials to the handle by the front door, depending on her recipe. Then she
ran them across to the other handle, attaching them with S-hooks. Back and forth
she walked, stringing material, building the rope a few strands at a time.

She kept going until the size was what she wanted, then she
used a drill on the far end to twist the strands together, creating something
wholly different.

“Are you still using the method I taught you so many years
ago or has the western world leeched my practices out of you?”

“I don’t think I could make rope another way. This is how
you taught me and the results are spectacular.”

“Beautiful rope is not made…” He paused waiting for her to
finish the thought.

“It is born. I remember.” Tears spilled over her cheeks and
she sniffed. “I know it’s been a while but I remember, Nawa. I remember
everything you taught me.”

He ignored her emotion. She was very thankful for small
favors.

“You are good to an old man to carry on his ways.”

“You’re not old, Nawa. You’re experienced.”

The rumble of his laugh made her want to snuggle into his
lap. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear. Into trouble I’m quite sure,
but it can get you out of it just as surely.”

A door of some kind moved on his end and she pictured him in
his home, sliding the screen open so he could stand outside, looking over the
bay where he lived.

“Are the cranes there this late?”

A huge body of water right off a coastal inlet fed a large
pond in front of his house. Cranes went there year-round for the temperate
weather and good fishing.

“
Hai
. None are eating now, they are all bedded down,
waiting for morning when the fish are awake and hungry. They are lucky, they
know when to be asleep.”

“The koi or the cranes?”

“Both.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a count of
five before slowly releasing it.

He did it again and his calm filtered through the phone. She
matched his meditative breathing without thinking about it. They used to do it
together several times a day. By the fourth or fifth breath she stood in the
middle of her living room, eyes closed, breathing with him. He always did that,
led and she followed, even if he never spoke.

“I wish you were here,” she whispered to him, wanting to be
held by him, unconditional love pouring from him, filling her up.

And she was so empty.

“It’s been a long time since I… What’s the American phrase?
Hugged your neck?”

“Ha! That’s more specialized to the South, actually. If you
told one of my friends that, while I was in Chicago, they’d dig the mace out of
their purse.”

“I did always think it a bit odd, but no matter. The
sentiment you understand?”

“Very much and I would return the sentiment ten-fold if I
could.”

“Hopefully soon. I do not like being alone so much. I much
prefer the company of a beautiful rope switch at my disposal. Tie up lovely
submissives and then get tied up herself. I believe you know her,” he kidded
with her. “Who else is going to listen to all of my rope stories over and over,
just to act as if they’ve never heard them before?”

Jenna met him through Ian, many moons ago. She and Ian had
belonged to the same BDSM club in Chicago, called Shiver. It was actually how
they met.

She’d heard of Nawa before, seen remote podcasts of
international stage performances of him tying. He was a legend with rope. A
pioneer in so many ways.

The owners of Shiver put on a rope bondage educational expo,
bringing in riggers from around the globe. Nawa was one of them. They met, Ian
introduced them and they’d had an instantaneous connection.

Nothing sexual, but an energy. A rope-based energy, as if
they were kindred spirits truly meant to be family.

She was blessed to be a part of his family. With no blood
tying them together she knew his affection for her was genuine. No obligation
held him to her. Only love and understanding.

“Any women in your town would be happy to hear your stories
and would look at you with awe and wonder.”

“And they would be asleep in minutes.”

She laughed. “What? Are you losing your touch?”

“No. I am just that good.”

Jenna laughed, using the lull in conversation to run the
drill, pulling on one section of strands as she twisted them to give them
strength. Then she reversed the direction to secure everything together, turning
strands of silk and hemp and linen into something wholly different.

Something beautiful and strong.

“The last time you were here, you weren’t doing very well.
Are you faring better now?”

She couldn’t help but think of her last trip to see him. It
had been a couple years after Ian had broken her heart.

Time had passed and she hadn’t started to heal. She’d fled
the country to get away from him, the memory of him, not knowing how much of
him she would carry with her.

Still did.

She’d been lost, but Nawa pulled her through.

He made her work each day, physical labor to keep her body
engaged and her mind busy. He’d taught her new rope ties and a few rope
processing techniques he’d picked up over the years.

He’d let her grieve for what she’d lost and for what would
never be. He’d helped her heal.

As much as she was able to at least.

“
Magomusume
, are you still strength training?
Running?”

“Two stage workout right now, since I’m not training for a
tough mudder. Running in the morning when I can fit it in. Extra cardio several
times a week.”

“What about rope? Are you practicing?”

“Yes. I tie almost every day when I’m at home.”

“Suspension?”

“If I have a spotter.”

“Good—”

He almost said something else and Jenna cringed, trying to
shake off the need for the words but knowing what they did to her.

“Tying others? Have you found your center again?”

She removed the hooks on one end of her rope, tied it off,
then repeated the knotting on the first end after cutting them off the handle.
She released the ropes and they unwound, bouncing back, holding the shape the
drill had formed into them.

That was what she’d strived for over the past couple years.
To find her natural shape again.

She coiled the rope, tucking the end around the middle wraps
to hold it all together. The other hanks she’d made earlier sat in a pile on
her kitchen table. She added her new rope to the stack, then started another
one.

“I have a friend, Oscar, he’s a bartender at The Library.
Great guy, gay, no threat to my sanity most days. He’s my spotter. He knows
some of what I’ve been through but not everything. I’m thinking about asking
him. I tied a corset on a friend of mine not too long ago. A breast cancer
survivor. Loved putting rope on her. So I think I’m ready to really go after it
again.”

“Any safety concerns? Are you going to suspend in your house
or at the club?”

“I actually suspended a couple nights ago. At the club.
First time on the custom frame. It was perfect.”

He said nothing for a second. “Is that what has happened
that you are reaching out to me now? Today of all days, but like any other?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am thankful for whatever has shifted inside you.
This is part of who you are and I hope you will share your gift with others.”

“I’m bottoming to someone.”

“Who?”

“He’s a Dungeon Master at The Library. His name is Nick.
It’s for a month. What we’ve agreed to is for a month. Our first session was a
bit rough, so I…uh…self-suspended afterward. Without a spotter.”

Sucked to own up to things that would get her in trouble,
but she didn’t want to lie to him. “I had my safety cutters with me, within
reach, and my second emergency blade tucked in my corset.”

“Many things can still go wrong. You of all people know
that.”

“Yes, Nawa. I know. I’m sorry. It was foolish and I wasn’t
thinking clearly because I was scared.”

“Of what? Of tying at the club?”

“No. Of letting my guard down with, Nick. He sees too much.”

“Ahh. This I know a bit about. So did you let your guard
down?”

“He found me when I was pretty floaty. He’s good with rope.
I meant to ask you if you knew him. He got me down, knew his way around
suspension lines and working ends of the rope even when he hadn’t tied it. He
made me cuddle afterward, onstage.”

“You say that as if it is a curse word.”

“That’s not what this was supposed to be about.”

“What? Sex only? No emotion? Because that is how you want
it? He is your top. You are trusting him to take care of your body. Maybe he
knows better than you what care your body needs. What your mind needs. Your
heart.”

“I don’t even know what my heart needs.”

“Then follow it and it will guide you.”

“But it steered me wrong last time.”

“Did it really?”

Utter silence and she had no idea how to respond to that.

Of course it had.
Hadn’t it?

She sank onto her recliner, not knowing where to begin to
figure that one out.

“You have blossomed into a beautiful, strong, talented
woman. Very different than the withdrawn girl I met so many years ago. You are
successful, happy and with multiple projects in the works if I know you at all.
You found who you were meant to be. Self-discovery comes at a price, if it is
worth it. Was it worth it,
mago
?”

“I don’t know.” It leapt from her mouth before she could
call it back and she stopped rocking the chair. She leaned back against the
cushions, closing her eyes and gave her inner pessimist a
what the fuck
face. If he hadn’t asked it the way he did, she would have given anyone else an
emphatic “not worth it”. But…

It was the
but
she was so stuck on.

A knock on Jenna’s front door startled her out of her
reflection.

“Nawa, someone is here. I’ll let you go so you can go to
sleep. I’ll talk to you later?” She unfolded her legs to stand.

“Anytime you need me, I’ll be here.”

“Love you.”

“
Hai.
You too.”

She ducked below the second rope in progress and
disconnected the phone call. She opened her front door at the same time. “Hey,
Oscar, come in. Oohhh…”

He stepped over the threshold with new ink on his left
shoulder and biceps.

“New ink, you bum. At Inkfluence?” The tattoo shop Scott
owned, where Kyle, Duke and Oscar all worked.

“I’m sure as hell not going anywhere else.”

She looked at it. He had a mustang horse and a dragon in
black and gray. Good work. “Who did it?”

“Duke.”

The spiky-haired Dom with his sights on Jillian, Kyle’s
sister.

“I’ve been toying with the idea of getting something.”

“No joke?”

“Serious. And I’ll want you to do it when I decide. Just
don’t know what I want yet. Want it to be special, you know?”