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I inhale sharply. I try to let the air back out slowly, but I end up panting. My heart is pounding so quickly, I feel like I can’t take in air fast enough to keep up with the blood flowing through my veins. Cree removes his hand from my throat and pulls me backward, and my head spins. I’m still tied into a ball, but now he’s sitting cross-legged, and I’m in his lap, cradled against his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Cree says softly. “Breathe slowly.”
I feel tears well up in my eyes. I try to slow my breathing down, but it only comes in staccato gasps. The ropes around me go slack, and I feel my hands begin to throb as blood rushes into them. I don’t know why I’m crying. I want to tell him not to untie me; I’m not ready for this to be over—but I can’t get any words out.
“Shh…”
Cree spins me around, moving me away from him just long enough for the ropes to fall away from my body.
They’re gone. The ropes are gone. No, no, no! I want them back! I’m not ready yet!
I still can’t speak, and the tears keep falling.
Again, Cree pulls me down into his lap, cradling me like a child. He wraps his fingers around my ankle, squeezing and rubbing the rope marks. He moves to the other ankle for a moment before he shifts my body so my back is against his chest and my head rests on his shoulder. From this position, he begins to massage my upper arms, rubbing deep into my muscles. He rubs my shoulders and then massages my thighs.
Eventually, my tears ebb, and I’m left with deep embarrassment instead.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whisper as I wipe at my eyes and nose. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says quietly. “Rope can be very intense and very emotional. If you’re crying, you needed to cry. That’s not a bad thing.”
“It isn’t?”
“Not at all.” He presses his lips against my forehead, rocking me silently. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I got a little carried away. You’re such a natural in rope, I forgot for a moment that you don’t know me that well, and our trust bond isn’t established. I took it too far, and I am sorry if that frightened you.”
“It didn’t,” I reply quickly.
Cree shifts a bit and grabs the back of my head again, pulling me back to look him in the face.
“Remember what I said about honesty?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
“It’s important with anyone but especially when it comes to something like this. You have to trust me to keep you safe, but I also have to trust you to always tell me the truth. It goes both ways.”
I nod as much as his grip will allow, and he releases my hair.
“I was scared,” I say, “but only for a moment. Maybe shocked is a better way of describing it.”
“But scared, too.”
“Yes, I was.” I sigh. “But as soon as you said something, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I didn’t want you to stop.”
“So, you did like it?”
“Yes.” This time I nod with vigor. “Very much so.”
“I’m glad.” He presses my head back to his shoulder. “I enjoyed that, too.”
“Then I’m glad, too.”
He chuckles and goes back to alternating between rubbing the rope marks on my arms and legs and rocking me like a child. I melt into his embrace, wondering how I could have ever felt that he might have harmed me.
I wish I hadn’t been afraid, even for a moment. I wish we would have continued. If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I wish he had gone ahead and fucked me.
Did he really want to?
He does this a lot, or so he’s said. He says people come up to him and ask to be tied up. I wonder how often that actually happens and if he usually has sex with those he’s tied up. He also said he’s tied men and that he’s not gay, so I can only assume those encounters aren’t sexual.
