He methodically built the harness, his fingers creating knots by muscle memory while he watched the distribution and kept everything lined up visually.
Backdoor is a bobcat shifter, and his wolf thought she smelled like a sneaky cat. Knife didn’t know why he saw her as sneaky, but he listened to his wolf.
It took him a while to parse her scent — no arousal, just boredom. She was tolerating the ropes, but wasn’t turned on by them. She didn’t hate them. She justenduredthem.
He hooked the harness to the chain simply to keep her from losing her balance and falling once he had her on one leg, and then squatted to begin working on her left leg.
She let him bend it without resistance, and she stared at the wall while he wrapped it, locking her calf to her thigh with a solid wall of rope. Most women hit an arousal level at this stage, looking forward to what it means to have their leg locked away, but Backdoor still seemed bored. It made him want to hurt her worse, but he was rigging her to be a fucktoy for the night. This wasn’t about stressing joints. Atleast, not yet, because he was absolutely going to do that, too.
Another length of rope, easy enough to eyeball how much he’d need. He’d made more shibari single-sleeves than he could possibly count.
He used the chest harness as an anchor, working the tops of her arms first, forcing them together, watching the strain on her shoulders. It was immediately clear he wasn’t going to make her arms meet, but that was fine. At this point in a rigging, his subject was usually at least headed to subspace, if not already there, but this bitch wasn’t even close. He considered what he knew of her — he’d already pegged her as being performative. More interested in who was watching and what they thought than of what she was experiencing. Was she performing boredom, or did this truly not interest her? He sensed it was more the latter.
He worked the ropes methodically, pulling her arms back and up, pulling both shoulder joints past where they thought they could go. Her breath caught — the first real sound she’d made. He checked the tension and went another half inch.
He pulled her arms a little closer to each other with the next pass down her arms, and she inhaled sharply. Finally, an actual response that went to his dick, but he resisted the urge to increase the tension just to get another reaction. She’d be in this pose for probably four to six hours. She’d feel it enough.
He made a pretty braid around her hands as a flourish, andturned to Dawg.
“Since I’m not working with a pulley system or a winch, easiest way to get the right height is to have ya’ll hold her where we want her while I tie her off to the chain.”
Dawg looked at her rigging, then to the chain. “How you gonna hang her?”
“Horizontal, lying on her side. Rope attached to the left side of the harness and the outside of the column on her leg.”
Dawg lifted her, and Knife disconnected the support at the back of her harness to tie it off to the side in two places. Another rope went to the top of her thigh, and another near her knee.
And for this part of it, her arousal levels finally took off, and Knife figured out why. The ropework didn’t appeal, but she had to get past it before the fucking started. It matched what he knew of her.
Dawg gradually let go of her, and he stepped back while Knife worked on the final knot.
But Knife wasn’t finished yet, and told them, “Gonna need a two-hundred-pound weight, and a forty-pound one.”
Fist left the room, and came back with both, one in his right hand, another in his left.
It hadn’t taken Knife long to do extensive rope work around Backdoor’s right ankle and calf. She yelped, and her scent was suddenly full of fear when he hung the forty-pound weight from it, stressing her hip and putting even more weight on the pressure points the ropes were purposefully digging into.
He tied the bottom leg off to the heavier weight with a few inches of slack. It was just there to keep her from tryingto kick someone fucking her, or to swing the weight and hit someone with it.
“Who gets the inaugural fuck?” Knife asked.
“Oh, I think you get that,” Dawg said. “I might take her mouth while you choose a hole on the other end though.”
Knife stepped up behind her, cock already in his hand, and rubbed the head through her slick folds. She enjoyed anal, and he wasn’t in a mood to give her what she wanted, so he buried himself to the balls in her cunt, and she screamed — not from being penetrated, but because of the way it wrenched both hips. He’d known damned well how this would torque them, but she hadn’t.
“Noisy little fuckhole,” Dawg growled, and he grabbed the back of her head, forcing his cock down her throat until her nose pressed against his pelvis. “That’s better.”
He plunged in and out a few times, and smiled. “This sideways thing is interesting. Highly recommended.”
Knife gripped her chest harness for leverage and pistoned his hips, driving deep with every stroke, slowing and speeding as he found his own rhythm.
Her cunt clenched around him and he breathed in her scent — panic, fear, and pain bolstering the overarching arousal. The panic briefly blinded the others when Dawg stayed buried in her throat, but arousal sprang back double-fold the second she could breathe again.
Dawg was playing with her, fucking her while staying deep until her panic topped out, and then moving with shallow strokes, but never long enough for her to fully oxygenate.
Her sounds were more animal than human when she could make them, and he waited for Dawg to go back in deep before Knife pulled all the way out of her cunt and slammed into her ass without warning.
She jerked and writhed, fighting her bonds. If she could’ve screamed, it would’ve been loud, but her throat was full of cock.
