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CHAPTERONE
Ialways feel free when I’m bound by him.
It’s the only place I do not feel anger simmering within me.
When Romeo ties me up, the pain from the physical effort of being suspended crowds my mind, and I feel better, as if I can finally breathe. My arms tied tightly together, so I can’t move them an inch. My legs folded to his specifications, leaving me open and vulnerable to him, nothing between him and myself but my flimsy silk panties. My body, suspended like an offering, awaiting my master, to do with me whatever he would.
I twitch in my bindings and moan, “Oh God,” closing my eyes as I revel in the complete freedom from responsibility, even if just for a limited time.
The first clap of the paddle as it makes contact with my ass has me jerking in surprise.
“I said no talking, Juliet,” my dom growls and I incline my head in submission.
My frustrated moan is guttural, the bass and synths of the music playing in the distance drowning it out. Some of the scenes played out at the club can get a little… loud, even with the sound-proofed rooms. The music helps that, and it sets the mood.
My dark hair hangs like a curtain, just barely sweeping the carpeted floor as I lightly swing back and forth.
“Ten strokes for that digression, my sweet.”
I nod my consent.
“Tell me your safe word.”
“Montague.”
“Good girl. Remember to use it.”
I try to let myself relax as much as I can, ready for the sharp sting of the paddle on my flesh. It’s not the strength of the hit that makes me hiss through my teeth. The momentum of the stroke makes me swing and the rope bites mercilessly into my skin and already-strained muscles. The discomfort is so intense that my mind finally detaches itself from the physical stress of our scene, and allows me to unconsciously dive into subspace. Still, I am sentient enough to manage to count the paddle strokes. My dom punishes me slowly, every blow on a different spot of my ass, as I swing helplessly.
The rope presses against the flesh of my breasts, my hands securely tied in front of me. The continuous sting of the paddle on my back is just one more impression in a cacophony of sensation that assaults my senses.
“I’m gonna turn you around now,” he says.
The blindfold enhances my other senses, making me feeleverything more intensely. Romeo’s scent envelops me – fresh sweat, leather, cinnamon, and sandalwood. The stress of the situation is something I have now gotten used to with my anonymous dom. I’ve never known his real name, and he’s never known mine.
It's better this way. His knowing who I am would just complicate his life for no reason.
He is meticulous as always with the ropes around my thighs, making sure to press a knot against my spread legs so that every time I move, it presses on my clit. The anticipation of that alone has me whimpering. I know he likes that. My head brushes against his groin and I can feel the hardness.
The ropes are tied underneath my breasts, circling my arms and then finishing at my hands. I cannot move an inch, my body is completely at his mercy. He unties and ties on one end of the ropes so that my joined hands are now around my head. I can feel my boobs standing to extreme attention, the strain on my shoulders intense. I lean into it with a sigh. This is exactly what I need.
“Safe word?” Romeo asks again, he knows that if a scene gets too intense, a sub might need to be reminded that there is a way out.
“Montague,” I reassure him, repeating our safe word.
“Very well.”
I’m not ready to tap out, even as my body is stressed, my muscles stretched to breaking point, especially around my shoulders and neck. Because this is exactly what I need. His hand on me is soothing, reassuring, running with precision over my body as he makes sure of the ropes’ position. Romeo changes the length of one rope, which makes my body tilt forward, the knot forced against my clit, rubbing roughly, adding to the kaleidoscope of sensation that suffuses me. Every nerve in my body is on fire.
“Squeeze my hand.” He orders.
I reach out blindly, and find his finger, squeezing it for all I’m worth. He’s satisfied that I’m good to go, and the scene can continue.
The knots beneath my breasts press upwards, hurting me so good, but also not enough. My mouth is open in a long-drawn-out groan, drool dripping a little to the floor, my eyes leaking tears, wetting the blindfold.
That’s when I smell the burning wicker.
I hold my breath in anticipation, and I jerk only a little when the first drop of wax hits the skin of my inner thigh, tantalizingly close to my most vulnerable spot. I can’t keep the moan in, and I know Romeo is grinning smugly at my reaction to his ministrations.
