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Chapter Three
Ian
He always focused his attention on Coco when they played—had to, that was the only responsible way to scene. While he might be an impulsive fuck-up in a lot of ways, he would never put his princess at more risk than was inherent in the kink they enjoyed. But there was something more intense about playing just the two of them instead of having Huds there to carry some of the weight, and also about doing a rope-heavy scene.
Unlike the carnival where he could indulge some of his own playful urges, this would be all about concentration, dedication. Fun, for sure, but in a deep and heady way instead of the cotton candy clouds of delight they’d been able to enjoy on the merry-go-round and the ferris wheel and the rollercoasters.
Ian felt himself settle as he buckled the leather cuffs around Coco’s wrists and ankles, also as he rechecked the wooden frame he’d be suspending her from. Of course he’d checked it earlier too, but no mistakes, not when he was trusting this piece of equipment to hold his precious girl.
Everything looked good, so he turned back to Coco who was waiting patiently.
He smiled at her and used his phone to turn on the sound system, selected a playlist that would provide background noise but no distraction—wordless, beat-heavy synth, not too aggressive because this was the slow, patient part. The part where he decorated his toy, used his ropes to move and sculpt her, make her feel weightless and like a little pixie.
Selecting a hank of rope from the table, he started off tying a chest harness, the bright purple a nice echo of the vibrant colors of the carnival. Moving around her as he worked, Ian checked the tightness of each loop, the placement of each knot. Coco’s breathing was steady and even, her eyes slightly glazed because she liked this too. She’d told him before being in his ropes made her feel safe and that was about the highest compliment he could expect to be paid.
Once her breasts were framed and he’d fashioned a handle between her shoulder blades with the vivid fibers, he tied off and moved onto a hip harness. A bright cobalt for this one, he snugged the rope around her hips and thighs, making sure not to pinch any of her pale skin or have any of his knots rubbing her wrong. He enjoyed tormenting her, of course, but only if he meant to. Plus he wanted her tied up for a good long time and a poorly tied base would cut that short. Had to do it right the first time since he had little patience for doing things over again.
He tugged her over to the frame by the handle at her back, and he heard the breathy “unh” sound she made when he did. Yes, little pixie liked to be moved.
Attaching one of the large, solid rings to the frame, he set to work. He’d put her in a partial suspension first to ease her into the scene. Let her keep one foot on the floor until she felt grounded and held by the ropes, but also slightly off balance to give her a thrill. He loved the slow, slightly dazed blinks of the worshipful way she looked at him when they played this way. And he was determined to give them both a scene worthy of her reverence and delight. Hell, just worthy of her.
He’d gone so far as to practice with a mannequin to get the transitions right—once he had Coco fully off the ground, he wanted to keep her there until the scene was over. Unless she used her safe word because she was uncomfortable in a bad way. Then down she would come no matter what his plans were.
For now though, he worked with his colorful ropes and his carabiners, tying another anchor around her thigh before using it as a base for lines to lift one of Coco’s feet off the ground, and fashioning still more strands to attach to her chest harness and tip her to the side. There. Such a pretty girl, blinking at him with those big pools-of-amber eyes, and her pretty pink lips parted.
“Feel good, princess?” he asked, tipping up her face with a knuckle below her chin because they both liked that.
“Yes, Papa. So much.”
“Nothing’s ouchie?”
“No, Papa.”
“Good. You remember to tell me if something hurts and we’ll fix it.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Such a good girl with nice manners even when her pupils were already blown wide and she was sinking into subspace.
He kissed her then—more aggressively than he’d intended to but she was just so achingly perfect—and cupped one of her perfect tits, pinched an already pearled nipple as she groaned softly into his mouth. This was going to be a very fun show indeed.
* * *
Cosima
It felt like forever and yet no time at all that Papa toyed with her, like a spider with prey in its web. He had in fact, ensnared her, enchanted her. The past couple hours—she thought, anyway—had felt like a dream.
He’d moved her through pose after pose, telling her she looked like a mermaid or a pony or a maiden on a swing, even pretty as a crescent moon. She hoped he was snapping pictures too because she’d like to see what he saw. Although if he wasn’t, it would be enough to have felt them, because she did, so deeply, with each whisper of his scruff against her skin as he murmured in her ear.
Between each of the poses he’d so carefully planned—Oh, her darling Papa who’d done this for her even though it must’ve taken ages and exhausted all his patience—he’d toy with her. Tease her with kisses and caresses and pinches and the impact of small, stingy toys that made her gasp. His hands and fingers were everywhere, both to guide the ropes around her but also to touch her, and be inside her.
She was so completely out of her head with lust and gratitude and love by the time he’d made her a cradle out of his ropes that she felt held back by his bonds instead of just held. Cosima wanted to climb him, offer herself up to be devoured, beg him with her body instead of just her words to please, please, take her, all of her, because she couldn’t stand not being completely his for even another second.
“Please, Papa, please. I need you inside me. Please.”
Her need was so intense she was almost in tears. She wasn’t sad or hurt, just feeling so much and Papa had done this on purpose, shaped her into this desperate, pleading creature. The best thing was, she knew he wouldn’t leave her like this. Not for long. None of her daddies ever did.
She knew some people played with orgasm denial and restriction but the farthest they went with her was edging in a scene. Just like how they never denied her attention or affection. She knew they felt she’d been denied enough already.
