[<– continued from Return to the Club]

Really I didn’t know what I was doing. He stood there facing me, a question on his face, and how could I explain to him the anguish I’d been through the past week? The hope, the desperation, the despair, the anger, the letting-go, the return, the new hope, and ultimately coming back here. Here I stood, in front of him, and for whatever reason, and I knew better, he represented a last, best hope for me.

I collapsed into his arms, surprising both of us. He didn’t expect it, and I didn’t plan it, but we both went with it. His arms closed around me, he pulled me in tight, he laid his chin across the top of my head and simply held me.

After a minute, I pulled back just enough to look up into his face. I’d like to say I had enough self-composure to not have any tears in my eyes, but I’m not entirely sure if that would be true. I don’t know.

He just smiled at me for a moment, then he said, in his rich, commanding voice, “Welcome back.”

There was quite a lot of activity going on around us in the room. In fact, it was somewhat apparent that another event of some kind was getting ready to happen, probably the social event that follows any sort of formal classroom scenario. Master Walter had disappeared, no doubt back in the entry vestibule, I saw Master John setting up behind the bar, and the students from the rope-work class were all milling about, the models recovering with water and looking human again, although still with an amazing glow to their features. Whatever they had, I wanted some of that.

Nicholas noticed me looking around and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Would you like to see some of what we were doing in class?”

Again, my heart caught in my throat. What had they been doing in class? Something about rope-work. Well, my imagination could run wild with that. Obviously somebody was getting tied up, or tied down, or something.

“Yes, please.”

He waited. I just looked at him quizzically. Finally, he said, “Yes, please,…?”

I was thoroughly confused, and that must have shown on my face. He relented and said “Yes, please, Sir.”

Oh.

Right. That. I had so much to learn.

He was still looking at me expectantly.

“Yes, please, Sir,” I said.

He grinned. “I think that’s another five swats added to your punishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ok, now we were talking! He could take me from aggravated to confused to relieved to absolutely drop-dead hot in a matter of moments.

“My my, little Olivia, I do think we’ve found a hot button for you. Do you even realize how much your whole demeanor changed when I mentioned swatting you and punishment?”

Was my heart ever going to slow down to a normal pace again? He leaned down close and whispered in my ear, “I’m going to spank you.”

I’m fairly sure I squeaked.

He took my hand and led me away from the crowd, through the door into the next room, and shut the door behind us. I knew this room, of course; it was where the orientation had taken place. The arrangement was a little different, the chairs and couches pushed further back to make floor space available for demonstrations, and the throne was gone. All the interesting equipment that remained a mystery to me still surrounded the periphery of the room, and now I also noticed other doors leading away to who knew where. I tried to remember how big the building was from the outside. It hadn’t seemed all that large, but I imagine it could have extended back a ways until it abutted up against the hillside beyond.

Ropes were still strewn about the floor; obviously Nicholas had intended to come back and clean up, and now here I was with him. I picked up one of the ropes; it was very soft in my hand, not at all abrasive, which made sense, given what it was intended for.

What exactly was it intended for? I supposed I was going to be shown.

“Do you like the feel of the rope?” Master Nicholas asked.

I looked up at him, the rope still in my hand. “It’s very soft.”

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and took the rope from my hands.

“It will feel even softer when it’s snugly tied around your arms, thighs, and torso.”

He kept finding ways to make me even hotter. I think I may have been about to burst into flames.

Master Nicholas chuckled softly, noting my discomfiture. “But perhaps it is too soon for that. Being bound is not for the faint of heart or the inexperienced.”

“But you could teach me?”

He paused, still smiling. “I could.”

“Would you?”

“Would you like that?”

I couldn’t quite speak, couldn’t quite say the words, so I just nodded, certain that the blush in my face must have been contributing to global warming. His arms around me began to move, I felt his hands upon my wrists, the rope against my skin. He distracted me by kissing my neck and blowing into my ear; my eyes closed, I breathed deeply, leaning back against his chest. After a few more neck nibbles he stepped back and around me, faced me and then stepped backwards and away. The rope was in his hands, and a moment later I noticed that it was pulling against my wrists.

He had bound my wrists. How did I not notice this? My eyes widened, I felt a frisson of fear and a bolt of heat. My knees nearly buckled, and Nicholas, keenly observant Nicholas stepped forward to catch me, but I did not fall. I gulped a deep breath, found my balance, tugged experimentally at the bonds. They were secure; I was not getting out of this any time soon without help.

“Are you all right with this, Olivia? Shall we stop? Or continue?”

I breathed deeply. “Continue.”

“Very well. Before we go any further, what is your safeword?”

“Safeword?”

“Yes. We talked about this in orientation last week, you recall?”

Yes, I remembered. I hadn’t given it much more thought, though, as every waking moment had been consumed with thinking about this man in front of me now and the way he pushed me away that night. The orientation had been mostly ejected straight out of my head.

Safeword. What should I use? I remembered now what it was for, a word that I could call out at any time that would bring everything to a stop. I was only to use it if I was really in distress, if I really didn’t like what was happening, or if I was in trouble. And, of course, silly me, I wondered why we couldn’t just say “stop,” but even I could think of the classic “No… Stop… don’t… stop… don’t stop…” scenario. Maybe we might want to be able to yell “stop” in the middle and not actually have our partner stop?

So, it had to be some other word besides “no” or “stop.” The club actually had a ‘club’ safeword, which was “red,” I recalled. I didn’t see any reason not to use that.

“Red. I’m good with the club safeword. Red.”

“Very well. If you say that, everything stops, and I untie you right away. And if you just want me to slow down a little, but not stop, if you just need a breather, you say…?”

“Yellow.”

“Very good. Olivia, we’re going to continue now. Are you ok with that?”

I nodded. Again, he began backing away from me, keeping his eyes on me. At all times he was aware of me, and deep down I knew that what he was doing was taking care of me, observing me, making sure I really was ok and not just not saying my safeword. I appreciated him all the more for this, though as my heart rate slowly began to settle down to something only one order of magnitude above normal, I felt it was unnecessary.

He pulled me along, my bound wrists leading me inexorably toward the perimeter of the room. The lights were dimmer along the edges, not that it was bright to begin with; a spotlight highlighted the demonstration area in the center, while wall sconces — actual wall sconces, although electric, I thought — adorned and lit the periphery in a mood lighting oddly appropriate for it all. We were approaching a device that looked something like a piece of gymnastics equipment, a horse I think it was called back in school, except this one had bench seats along the sides. Everything was well padded, and the device had rings set into it at strategic locations. Master Nicholas led me toward it, then he walked around so that it sat between us. As he kept his eyes on me, and kept pulling on the ropes, I was forced to lean over the device, then to kneel on the bench seat, and that’s when he stopped.

I was confused, but that didn’t appear to matter, as he kept working with the rope, pulling me down over the center ridge line of the horse, or whatever it was called. He bent me double over the device, securing my wrists low on the far side, and then he came around behind me. I craned my neck to see what he was doing, then stopped, looking forward, not sure I wanted to know.

“Olivia, I’m going to secure your ankles now. Remember your safeword?”

“Yes,” I breathed softly.

“Tell me what it is?”

“Red.”

“And to slow down?”

“Yellow.”

“Very good. We’ll continue.”

I was touched by the care he was taking with me, but I was also becoming maddeningly impatient. I knew the safe words. I would say them if I needed to, but dammit, that wasn’t going to happen. I might be a little frightened, but I was strong, I could do this, I could take this, I wanted this, it was going to happen.

I felt his hands around my left ankle, a bit of a tug, and my leg was pulled out to the side a bit. I tried not to look back to see what was happening, bowing my head and breathing deep.

You can do this, Olivia, I told myself. You’re strong. You asked for this. Nothing else was working, remember? You can trust this man. He’s well known and respected here, and there are so many safety protocols that…

Wait. Where were the dungeon monitors? We were alone. We were alone in this room and this man, whom I had met only a week earlier, had spent all of an hour in the company of, had exchanged only a few dozen words with really, this man was tying me down to this bench.

Was I crazy? Insane? Why would I allow such a thing? I fidgeted, really starting to question this entire exercise.

“Olivia? Everything ok?”

I took a breath, took another.

“Olivia? Shall we stop?”

“No.” I paused, gathered my thoughts. I wanted this, truly I did. My heart was racing because I was excited, not afraid. This was right for me. I could do this. “No, please don’t stop. I just… I just needed a moment there, but I’m ok.”

“Very well. We’ll continue.”

Now his hands were upon my right ankle, and a moment later my ankles were bound out at the edges of the bench, my legs splayed wide, my knees on the padded seat. My lower belly rested on the padded high part of the horse, my breasts hanging over the opposite side.  I tugged experimentally upon my bonds, wrists and ankles alike, and I wasn’t certain whether I was assured or or not by how secure they were.

“Olivia, you now have a choice.”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?”

“I am going to spank you. That is going to happen. Only your safeword can stop that now. But your choice is this. I can spank you through your skirt, or it can be against bare skin.”

This was another moment of truth, wasn’t it? Was I ready to have my bare ass exposed to this man? I felt his hand lightly upon my back, stroking softly, and to my surprise, this actually relaxed me.

“In my experience, it is more effective against bare skin.”

While he spoke, he moved his hand down lower, over my skirt, and began to gently rub. His touch both excited and relaxed me. My breathing settled down, my heart rate slowed, and the tension oozed from my muscles.

“That’s better. Just relax like that. You want this, Olivia, I know that, and I want it, too.”

He spoke softly, slowly, in time with the movement of his hand. This really wasn’t so bad. I could stay here. We could just go on like this.

I breathed.

“Well, Olivia? You still have a choice to make.”

Choice? What choice? Oh, right. Skirt or no skirt. No skirt or skirt. No skirt or no skirt.

“No skirt.”

“Very well, then.”

Wait, did I say that out loud? Holy crap, now what did I get myself into? Sure enough, I felt my skirt being lifted, and holy Mary mother of Christ he was pulling my panties down! Wait, was this what I signed up for? I felt a breath of air against my skin, my bare skin, and then his hand was there again, not rough, just softly rubbing, gently smoothing me out, relaxing me. His palm was warm against me, against my ass, yes, I was going to say it, he was rubbing my bare ass with his palm, and I was a little bit freaking out, and a lot just really getting into it.

He pulled away, I heard a bit of a whoosh of air, and then oh wow what the fuck was that! That was a spank? That was a god-damn nuclear strike, the heat was spreading so fast and deep, but there was his hand again, rubbing, soft, stroking, loving, soothing….

And again, whack! I gasped for air, pulling strongly against my bonds, and actually found myself thankful they were there or I probably would have knocked over the bench in my effort to get away. As before, his hand was quickly there to soothe the burn, even as the heat radiated through my core and tears blurred my vision. He gave me some time to recover between strokes, but three more times his hand came down, hard, against my defenseless rear end. By the fifth stroke, I found myself actually anticipating the suddenness of it, and dare I say it, awaiting it, breathing through it, following the sensations engendered as they wound through my body. I felt heat in more places now; my ass was on fire, of course, but a warm glow suffused my entire being, a sense of inner peace almost, and dare I say it, yes, I felt more than just a warm glow between my legs. It seemed my body actually liked this.

Oh crap. No panties. Nothing. If anything was happening down there, he might be able to…

“It seems this agrees with you, little Olivia.”

Now the main source of heat was my face, blushing furiously with embarrassment.

Master Nicholas’s hand gently soothed my burning bottom, and then to my surprise he pulled up my panties and smoothed my skirt down into place. He kept one hand on me, which I found reassuring, and with the other he undid his knots, releasing first my ankles and then my wrists. He helped me up from my bent-over position and pulled me close, kissing my forehead while holding me in his arms. I shivered slightly, but not from being cold. Carefully, he led me over to one of the couches and cradled me in his lap, just holding me. Dimly I noticed him checking on my wrists and ankles, but he had tied me so carefully that I suffered no abrasions.

I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me. I felt so relaxed and peaceful; was it just in relation to the pain of the spanking that its absence could now feel so blissful? It had to be more than that. I also found myself highly aroused, and after a minute I squirmed a little in Master Nicholas’s lap, which caused him to chuckle softly. Damn the man, did everything about me amuse him so?

“As I recall, little one, it was ten swats you earned, and that was only five. At some point you have another five coming to you.”

“You call those swats?” I murmured. “More like asteroid strikes.”

“Ah, you’re back, I see. Good. Let me fetch you some water.”

He scooted me off his lap and onto the couch and started to stand up. This I did not like. I reached up and took hold of his arm, pulling him down again to my level, and myself partly up to his, wrapped my other hand behind his head, and kissed his mouth hard. I could feel his surprise, then a moment later he relinquished and let me take what I needed as I held the kiss, held my breath, closed my eyes, lost myself in him, in the feel of his lips against mine, his breath as we both parted our lips. I didn’t stop, didn’t let go, breathing again hard in and out through my nose, and soon I felt his arms around me again, crushing me up to him, until he was the one taking what he wanted from the kiss, taking back the control I had momentarily stolen. Moments later he broke off, his face two inches from mine, his eyes locked on mine, gazing into my soul, searching for something there.

“Insatiable little vixen, aren’t you? I like that. But I can see that you may need some lessons in deferred gratification.”

I blinked, not at all sure what he meant by that, as he eased me back down to the couch and left for the other room and the bar to fetch some water. I lay back, and then curled up into a ball, hugging myself, processing the blaze of emotions and sensations that had torn through me over the past fifteen minutes.

Tied down. Check. Spanked. Check.

And it was hot.

Aroused. Check check check.

But something was still missing. Don’t get me wrong, it was nothing like the abortive experiment with Paul. Master Nicholas had divined exactly what I wanted and he delivered, my ass still burned with that delivery, and I wanted him. Oh boy, did I want him. I could not imagine a man being able to satisfy me any more than Master Nicholas had already done, and we hadn’t even had sex yet. Well, he had had my panties down around my knees and spanked my bare ass, but I think most people would agree that, while incredibly sexy, that did not constitute sex. Sex would definitely ensue, and as soon as I could possibly finagle him into a bed, any bed, whatever was nearest would be just perfect….

Hmm. Would we even do it in a bed? He was, without doubt, an unconventional lover, so why did I think the actual sex would be so conventional as to happen in a bed? It could happen anywhere. It could happen…

… Here.

And why not?

Master Nicholas returned from the other room with two liter bottles of sparkling water and a blanket. He sat down beside me, wrapped the blanket around me, pulled me in close under his arm, and opened one of the bottles, holding it up to my lips.

“Here you go, drink.”

I reached to take the bottle, but he just wrapped me tighter, pinning my arms and shaking his head. I looked at him with the question in my eyes, and he just nodded, so I parted my lips and tilted my head back slightly, and he slowly poured a measure of water into my mouth, then pulled the bottle back. I felt the carbonation dance across my tongue, the tingling sensation even more intense than usual, and the cool water was indeed very soothing. When he saw that I had swallowed, he again put the bottle to my lips, and I drank again. As I hydrated, rational thought returned to my brain.

Quite the control freak, this guy. I couldn’t quite decide whether I liked this or not, but I had to admit, it wasn’t all unpleasant being so carefully taken care of. Still, I had one more need yet unmet, and he couldn’t be unaware of it.

After another draft of water, I shook my head at any more and snuggled in closer, nuzzling against his neck. I turned my body across his, maneuvering an arm out from the blanket to grasp his hip while kissing my way up to a point just below his ear. There was no way he could mistake my desire, my intentions.

He breathed in and out, deep and slow, once, still holding the open water bottle in one hand, holding me with the other arm. Oh yes, he liked this. Encouraged, I pulled myself further up onto his lap, slipping my left leg over and between his, reaching up behind his head to grip his hair with my right hand, keeping my left strategically close at his hip, nibbling his earlobe, my breasts pressed against his chest and upper arm. I felt his breathing against them, the material of my bra and blouse becoming maddeningly abrasive and confining against my increasingly sensitive nipples. His arm tightened around me, his thigh muscle tensed between my legs, increasing my need as it pressed against me. I kissed my way down to the hollow at the base of his neck, the friction of sliding down his torso sending twin surges of desperation through me, and I moved my left hand over two inches.

He definitely liked this. His body did not lie. I felt his hardness through his blue jeans, and emboldened, I curled my hand around the raised ridge of material. My breathing came faster and faster; my God, I was acting like a desperate horny teenager. I could not fathom what had come over me, and yet I could not stop myself.

So he stopped me.

“Olivia,” he breathed, his voice husky with need of his own. “Slow down, little one.”

He took my arms in his big hands and pulled them down straight to my sides. He lifted me away from him and sat me up on his knee, then curled an arm under my legs to lift me off him entirely and onto the couch beside him. He was breathing deeply, as I was, and gazing intently into my eyes. I frowned, a soft sigh of desperation and even a bit of loss escaping my slightly parted lips. Had I already blown it? Had I mistaken a man into such kinky activities, thinking that meant he must also be fast and ready to bed the first girl to come along and throw herself at him? For make no mistake, I pretty much did throw myself at him, and now I wondered if he was about to tell me thanks, but no thanks. My emotions felt a bit like a state fair roller-coaster, swinging through highs and lows.

“Make no mistake, little one. I want you. I need to have you. But you need to be certain about what you are signing up for with me. I’m not sure that you’re clear about what this means.”

I was confused. Had I not been very clear? How could he mistake my actions?

He saw the puzzlement in my eyes. “Yes, I know that you think you want this. But you must understand, this is about more than just ropes and spankings and sex. This is about what goes on in here…” He tapped my temple. “And here…” He tapped my heart. “And here.” He took my hand and pulled it to his chest, holding it over his heart so I could feel it beating strongly in there.

I picked up his hand and held it between my own. I gazed down at our clasped hands, marshaling my thoughts. Of course he was right, and I agreed, but how could I communicate this without seeming silly or insincere? Well, for that matter, how could I know that I wasn’t insincere? Was I fooling myself? Did I think I could really care about this man I barely knew, or were my hormones simply raging?

I could care about him. My hormones were indeed raging, and right now lust was burning fiercely through me, but that brief instant when I thought — how silly I was to think it — that he was going to dump me, for that moment I felt a pang, a void, and so, yes, I could care. This man did more than just drive me to heights of sexual tension and desire; he looked after me, he saw to my well-being, he made sure of my state of mind. He observed everything about me in detail, missed nothing, and that was indeed a new experience for me. No man before had ever paid such close attention. I could indeed care. I looked up into his eyes. He put his finger to my lips.

“Don’t say anything just now, little one. I want you to take some time to reflect before you commit to anything.”

Did he say commit? Now who was moving too fast? I opened my mouth to speak, but he shushed me again.

“Not a word. Come sit here in my lap again, drink some more water, and just be.”

This man was the most maddening mix of hot and cold I had ever encountered. Two minutes earlier he had been fondling and spanking my bare ass, a minute later I could have sworn we were about to get it on right here on this couch, never mind all the people in the next room, and now he was slowing me down, telling me to think things over — think what over? — and at the same time talking commitment.

He pulled me into his lap and held me, and I sat there a little confused, a little disappointed, and, as my jets cooled back to a more sustainable level, perhaps just slightly relieved.

[Continue on to Cuffs and Clamps –>]

 

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