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Les’s knowledge of joints, ligaments and muscles told her, even with the toned and flexible body the woman had, the position had to be uncomfortable.
She posed the whispered question to Brick. Other people were talking, but she still felt hushed, like she was in a church. “Extreme suspension can be uncomfortable, even painful at first,” he responded. “But those who love being rope bottoms say you settle into it. Many even reach a deep subspace trance.”
The woman did look almost dreamy. The other rope top was female. She was leisurely rotating her bound male on a hook while walking around him. Her absorbed appreciation was as compelling a part of the view as the bound man himself. She had a tasseled whip in her hand. She flicked it over reddened areas of his flesh, exposed between wraps she’d arranged like a sun beam along his torso and hips.
He was an older man, but still in good shape for the workout the suspension would give him. He had a silver cage on his cock and balls, and the cage had a padlock. The female Dominant wore a silver key around her neck. It gleamed against her white blouse. Beneath a leather skirt she wore polished black army boots.
When the Domme noticed Les’s astounded expression, her lips curved. She gave Brick a courteous acknowledgment before turning back to her sub. After she stroked his whipped flank, she reached between the cage bars to tease his erect length with her nails. His cock was pressed uncomfortably against the confinement.
“Okay?” Brick asked her. Les realized she was shaking, though she knew it wasn’t fear. Maybe something more unsettling.
“Yeah. Yes. I…Can we see more?”
“We sure can. Keep breathing, though.”
They passed a female sub tied to a wooden X, her Dom using a flogger on her bare back. The black and silver strands look electrified under the spotlight. Her back and ass were streaked with a red flush, but his strikes didn’t seem overly hard.
“The repetition can do that,” Brick explained. “Just because a sub likes impact play, doesn’t mean she likes lots of pain. Sometimes the biggest turn on is the restraint, the idea of being punished, or serving the Dom’s desires. The longer they’ve been playing together, the deeper the trust, the more likely they might investigate more extreme levels together. But not always.”
They’d reached the station with the submissive enduring the forced orgasms. As she gazed upon the scene, Les became even more aware of Brick’s touch, the press of his body against her.
The spiraling iron around the pillars had a use other than protecting the video screens. The woman was bound to it, her arms behind her, a web of ropes holding her fast from just her shoulders to her upper thighs. Her bare breasts were held between two wooden bars screwed down to distend the curves. Her nipples, darkened from the blood pressure, jutted forward. The vibrator had been fitted into the wraps of rope over her thighs, keeping it against her clit. Though she struggled from her arousal, the ropes wouldn’t allow her any relief from the stimulation. Tracks of fluid dampened the rope around the vibrator head.
Her Dom, a husky, bearded man with bright blue eyes, wore a utility kilt, chain belt and black T-shirt. He had his hand on her face. When he pushed his thumb between her lips, she sucked frantically on it, her gaze feverish. “One more time, baby. Then Daddy will hold his good girl and rock her to sleep. Tell her a story.”
Her eyes pleaded with him, but something in the agonized gaze said she also wanted to do what he said, be a “good girl.” The two words were tattooed on her neck, along with a tiny blue teddy bear.
Les understood that push-pull between what you could endure and what you wanted to give, to someone you would give everything to… It burrowed into her head, made her heart and body ache. Her sex was throbbing. What did Brick like to call it, the word that heightened her arousal every time he used it? Her cunt. Her cunt was throbbing.
She didn’t know if she wanted Brick to do to her what this man was doing to his submissive, but she definitely wanted something that felt like just as much, just as intense, just as…everything. How could she explain that? She wasn’t even sure she could explain it to herself.
“Let’s keep going,” Brick said. “You’re getting a little overwhelmed.”
Could he tell the strength of what she was feeling here could disrupt the darker things inside her? The emotions were too similar, too connected to all the things that mattered to her, to her sense of herself. They could rise up and tear her to pieces.
They were already there, like wolves snapping at the heels of a fleeing deer.
She let herself be led onward. Though the girl’s eyes rolled in her direction, Les doubted she was seeing anything, not in her current feral state.
They passed partygoers on vinyl sofas and easy chairs, watching the scenes closest to them as they enjoyed drinks and conversation. One of the submissives, a plump woman with blond hair and nipple piercings, was on her knees, on the floor next to her seated Dom. Her slim collar was attached to a leash wrapped around his hand. She sat on her heels, back straight, hands clasped behind her back.
Brick had required her to sit like that, back straight, breasts on display and knees parted. All of her available to his gaze and touch. Even when they’d been talking about difficult things in his bedroom, that reminder had kept her intently focused on whatever he demanded. As well as so aroused, she couldn’t think about anything else.
Another sub sat in her Dom’s lap. They had their hands laced together, playing finger games. The sub was mostly clothed, but her knees were spread, the Dom’s other hand beneath the skirt, knuckles pushing up against the cloth as he stroked her in a relaxed manner. Her skin was flushed, showing he was keeping her worked up, even as they smiled and whispered to one another.
Intimacy, teasing, straight out physical demands. Love, liking, lust. Even controlled violence, and the passion that broke open every secret. It was all here.
She hadn’t known all the possibilities, hadn’t realized how far they could stretch beyond her own imaginings. Some of it seemed much more extreme than she’d ever want to go, even as it fascinated her.
The emotions surged again, and she realized she wasn’t breathing. Couldn’t breathe. Or she could, but it wasn’t going right or well.
“Brick…” She clutched at him. “I can’t…”
Instantly, he shepherded her into a less populated corner. He sat her down in a chair and angled it toward the wall, so she was gazing at velvet fleur-de-lis and gold-faceted lights. As she started to hyperventilate, his hand was on her neck, gently propelling her forward. Air starvation was a terrible, panicky feeling.
She gripped his other hand, feeling mortified, which made the sensation worse. “I can’t…I’m so sorry…”
“Not a thing to be sorry for. Just take it easy. Breathe. It’s a lot. Remember, nothing is wrong. No expectations.”
