Unholy Promises (28 page)

“…she needs her ropes tighter.”

No, no, I think the ropes are plenty tight enough, thank you.

And with a flick of his wrist, the ropes cinch my arms tighter, the ropes that coil from just under my breasts to barely above my bellybutton crush in, and I am suddenly very aware of my breath, very aware of my heartbeat. Oh God, oh God.

“…with her elbows drawn together behind her back, her breasts thrust higher, she stands before you tall, proud, and gloriously female…”

I lock my eyes on Garrett, trying to remember how to breathe.

“…it is your responsibility to be acutely aware of the subtlest change in mood, and be prepared for a quick release in case of an emergency situation. Don’t trust the speed of your fingers if she panics and suddenly can’t breathe…”

He produces another length of rope, pink, and with a pinch and a pull, passes the rope between my legs, looping and twisting to quickly form an unyielding saddle against my clit. Against my will, my body and mind both refusing to believe that this is possibly happening, pleasure rises through my clit.

“Remember, she gives herself to you willingly and each time she allows you to bind her, it is your audition for the next time, so make every performance the best possible experience for her.”

I am not entirely sure what he is doing to the ropes between my legs, but he can stop now, really.

“Her body will long to arch against you as the lines of rope holding her legs together from thigh to ankle remind her how desperate her situation is … she has given herself to you completely … she wants this, to feel helplessness in your arms. It is a powerful turn-on knowing that no matter how hard she struggles, she cannot escape.”

While he speaks, he tightens and ties until suddenly my every breath is shifting the ropes, and I am struggling, the binding between my legs becoming an exquisite, unbearable torture. Ohmygod.

That Lewd Larry is using my body as a hands-on teaching model adds a spark of irony to the moment as my body rides a wave of exquisite pleasure. I refuse to breathe, not one more breath! I will not…

“…it is the freedom of knowing that she will not be harmed, that allows her to experience a pleasure otherwise not attainable…”

I will not breathe! I will not…

Oh God, maybe a little air, if I just breathe in really, really slowly…

“It is a myth, ladies and gentlemen, that you own your slave, when in fact, it is the submissive who chooses the dominant. You see, only the submissive truly knows her own needs, seeking out instinctively the dominant who can offer her the freedom to embrace her inner darkness, allow her to battle her inner demons in the safety of his embrace … only when she finds one capable, deserving of her, will she submit and allow you to dominate.”

A soft stroke down my cheek makes me realize that, one, my eyes are closed; and two, I am crying. Opening my eyes, I find not Garrett’s blue eyes staring into mine, but Lord Fyre’s brilliant brown ones. And yes, it is Lord Fyre standing before me, transformed, he no longer smiles, but exudes a force that, were I not tied and bound, I would drop to my knees.

I inhale, my lungs threatening to explode, deprived so long of air, making me gasp as one almost drowned. For the moment, I forget the building pleasure between my legs, as Lord Fyre places first one arm around me and then the other, making sure that his hands close over mine. Except for a black leather jock strap, he is nude.

“Ready?” Lewd Larry asks, interrupting all thought.

Ready? Ready for what? Isn’t my Master here to rescue me?

My Lord of Fire nods and suddenly it is he being wrapped in rope, loops that bind us together, tightly, our chests crushed together, our cheeks touching. He grunts and I realize that Lewd Larry has managed to trap his genitals in a tight coil.

“Don’t move,” he commands.

Too late I realize the nature of this newest rope design—I move, his ropes tighten, he moves, my ropes tighten. Oh God.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper against his face.

“You are mine, Eva.”

“Why? I know that you know why I’m here,” I whisper, my voice cracking with very real fear.

“Do I?” he asks, rocking his hips, pulling the ropes between my legs, causing sweet, sweet friction.

“Oh God!” I moan out loud.

The crowd responds with a lewdness of their own. Barely a classroom demonstration now, are we to be the cheap sideshow?

I arch my back to stop the pleasurable torment.

“Don’t move!” he squeaks and bites down hard on my shoulder, and I realize the full sadistic intent of Lewd Larry’s rope trick. If I move, I cause Fyre pain. If he moves, he causes me intense pleasure. I relax in my constraints, letting every muscle go limp.

“Thank you,” he sighs against my neck.

“Don’t you move either. I will not orgasm in front of a crowd of strangers!”

“Then you still refuse to submit to me?” he asks, his voice filled with incredulous agitation. In a very sadistic maneuver, he begins a gentle rocking motion with his hips.

“You refuse to let me Master you?”

“No. Yes. Stop moving!” I cry out, “You’re confusing me.”

He doesn’t quit rocking, and neither has Lewd Larry stopped instructing. “If you find yourself in the possession of two such lovelies, and have the exquisite desire to master them both. For lack of a better phrase, you desire that they be forced into a position of making love, it is merely a matter of stimulating the right body parts. The brain is not entirely sure whether to process the sensations as pleasure or pain, arousal or fear, resulting in sensual overload. In other words, it takes very little to push your helpless submissive over the edge…”

“Let me master you, Eva,” Fyre begs. “Trust me a little, and I can help you learn to trust me completely.”

I grit my teeth against the delicate pleasure happening between my legs, “I already asked you to Master me, I asked you to fix me, I asked…” Oh God, no, oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Relax, Eva. Let me love you,” Fyre commands, a soft whisper in my ear. “Come for me now, Eva. Come for your, Master.”

“I-ah, a-a-ah-ahhhhhhhhhh, God yes, Master m-me-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“Your bound lover will tell you by her reactions if what you are doing is working,”

Lewd Larry concludes.

I sit at Master’s feet, and yes, he is Master, since I so gloriously announced its truth in front of not a few but a hundred spectators. Each who have managed to stop by Master’s table to offer a congratulatory remark, or lewd comment, in passing. I have not decided whether I will be canine or feline in this strange new rabbit hole I have fallen down; but I do know I want my inner critter to have very sharp teeth, because if one more person scratches me behind the ears, offering another stupid remark like, “she’s such a sweet thing,” or “darling, just darling,” I will scream, and bite and claw. By the way, what is the punishment for attacking the nice Members Only Dominants? It will be well worth it, whatever it is. I am not sweet, and I am definitely not darling; I have been neither since I started packing a 9mm under my arm. God, I miss my gun.

I try to envision putting a bullet through the center of his left eye. Quick kill, little mess. No, I can’t put a bullet into Lord Fyre’s brain. A knife then, I decide, or a razor blade, small, intimate, it would require up close and personal, messy, but unavoidable. I can’t let him see it coming. Dear God, I can’t let me see it coming.

I have to let it go. No emotion. Forget the who, or the why I shouldn’t, I’m a trained professional.

Up close, personal … no, intimate. Naked, straddling him, distracting him with kisses, my tongue in his mouth, his dick slammed hard into my pussy, and a fast swipe …

two main arteries … quick … three main arteries … quicker. Oh dear God. I look at my hand and realize how badly I am shaking.

I cannot kill this man. I look up to find him staring back at me. Does he know what I was just thinking?

My skin is pink, partly leftover from the bondage demonstration, mostly from extreme embarrassment. I’m also chafed in places I would rather not be chafed; however, Lewd Larry promised that there is a cream for that. I would rather not think about how he knows that I probably need that particular hygiene product.

Is it day? Is it night? My body, mind, and maybe even spirit are definitely falling victim to jetlag. I want sleep; more specifically, I want to lie in bed with Master, wrapped in his arms, and just know that this day is over. Not that it was a nightmare; my life before, WODC and Liam and almost dying during my snuff film debut were the nightmare, I see that clearly now.

He ruffles my hair and, when I look up, I see that he is ready to leave. I start to stand, but he bends down and commands, “Crawl behind me.”

Turning, he walks away.

I am naked and dozens of people have suddenly turned eyes on me. You would think that after all that I’ve been through, crawling through a crowded room would be nothing.

Trust me, it’s something. I close my eyes, mortified that I am being asked to do this, realizing it is such a double standard. How many slaves have I admired tonight as they’ve crawled by? Men, men and more men, crawling, scratching, hissing, howling, barking men, chests bare, chests furry, gorgeous eye-candy abs and flabby abs; and the women, beautiful women, small breasts barely swaying, large breasts swaying greatly, curvy hips, narrow hips, and yes, I admit, I looked to see if their cunts were waxed bare or left au naturel.

I do not want the crowd to possess such intimate information about me, although honestly, most of them have already seen it all anyway. They just haven’t seen me like this, padding across the room on hands and knees, chin lifted, curved back, hips lifted …

crawling. I keep my eyes locked on Fyre’s. He waits by the elevator, he waits for me. I pray for a moment that, if it comes down to it, he’ll stop me. That if it comes down to it and I am ordered to kill him, he will know and he will be strong enough to kill me.

I have never before been so happy to see a bed. I crawl through the threshold of our all-black room and clamber onto the mattress exhausted. We took the long way. After the elevator dropped us at the fourth floor, he took three unnecessary corridors to get to our room, did he think I wouldn’t notice?

Sitting in the middle of the bed, I rub what’s left of my knees. Carpet burn.

I’m not impressed.

Fyre disappears into the bathroom, returning with a basin, washcloth and towels.

Kneeling before me, he lifts my right knee and presses a kiss to the rough, reddened flesh. “Thank you,” he whispers.

I am stunned.

Taking the washcloth, he dips it into the steaming water basin and soaks it, wringing it out before gently wiping away all trace of dirt, exposing a slight abrasion. He kisses my knee again. “You were so beautiful, following behind me. I am so proud of you.”

He straightens my leg against the cool satin sheet, covering the bed. I rub my foot against the silkiness of black satin. The sheets are a new addition. I had almost grown accustomed to sleeping on the cold, bare rubber. Almost. I suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my lips, knowing he arranged to have the satin sheets brought to the room for me.

Fyre lifts my right knee, bending it as he washes away the evidence of my marathon crawl. I wince.

“Sh-h,” he gentles, wiping tenderly. “In time, you will learn to crawl with less weight, so you won’t drag your knee against the carpet so much. Soon, it won’t hurt to crawl around on all fours for hours.”

He bends, kissing my knee.

“I want you, Eva.” Emotion cracks his voice, and I realize just how much restraint he’s showing. Leaning back, I hold out my arms to him and he follows me down. The leather of his vest is cool against my chest but the man is warm, his bare skin flaming against mine. I push at the fabric, wanting to feel only his heat against me. He helps and soon I have bare skin against bare skin, but I want more, and it is only then that I realize my passion has flared to match his. I wouldn’t have admitted it a moment ago, would have argued just the opposite, but crawling across the dining room floor, following him on hands and knees, was the most erotic, the most sexy I’ve ever felt in my life. For a moment I forgot the real reason I am here.

I am not an agent in this room.

If only that were true.

I pretend that it is truth, pushing all other thought from my brain. I need him desperately. I am on fire to possess his flesh inside of me.

“Now?” I whimper, reaching for his hard penis.

“Not yet,” he whispers, taking my nipple in his mouth and pushing his hips to the side, both trapping my searching hand and keeping me from my target. “You are always in such a hurry to get to the main event.”

He licks around my nipple, sparking lust deep in my womb. Soft tugs on my flesh cause me to arch against him. “Oh God, please.”

His answer is to suckle softly, alternating long pulls on my breast, causing an amazing pulling sensation deep in the core of my breast. I am writhing beneath him and begging in earnest before he switches to the opposite breast. He pauses only to say, “I want you to experience this pleasure to its fullest, Eva.”

How many minutes pass in pleasurable agony? I do not know; however, when he moves to straddle me, I think, “Thank God,” not realizing I voice the sentiment aloud, until he chuckles. “Not yet, Eva, patience.”

Pressing his heavy balls against my clit and trapping his long, hard length between us, he rubs erotically against me, watching my face. I seek his eyes, finding them so dark, so filled with passion, a blaze of emotion burning deep within. Lowering his head, he cups my breasts, pushing them together, lifting both nipples to his mouth to suck simultaneously. Lightning crashes through my being with the first long draw. Wetness pools around the opening of my vagina and I am no longer able to restrain myself from humping against him.

Sucking, sucking, sucking … pulling, biting, sucking calls me to respond to him as he watches my face from behind the mound of my bunched breasts.

Humping, rubbing, agony of frustration, wanting more than the friction his balls offer against my clit, wanting, needing him inside me, answer his call. My hips in motion, I cannot stop. He sucks, I rub, and finally, the climax he has been building explodes through my body.