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He then starts adding more rope between my legs, up to my breasts and then, Mercer pushes me so my back is in contact with the pillar. He locks me against it.
“You said you do this with people you like.”
“Pollyanna, you and I, the hate…it’s got nothing to do with desire or like, it’s a different thing.”
“I shouldn’t have done it. I only turned in the drugs. I had no idea what would happen next, and I ripped so many lives apart—yours, my family’s…” I bite my lip, unable to stop the rushed dribble of words from spilling out of my mouth. He comes up and smooths down my lip with his thumb.
“If anyone’s biting you, it’s me. And what’s done is done. Like and hate are complicated.” Then he steps back. “Try to move.”
I do. Everything tightens and the knots push in, making me flare with bright pleasure in those spots.
Mercer adjusts my hands, bringing them higher so that my muscles strain. Even though I’m in heels, I still teeter on my toes, my whole body not just displayed but pushed out for him like an offering.
It’s uncomfortable, it’s humiliating.
But fuck, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t thrilling.
He sits at his desk, leaning back, the drink in his hand. “Stay still. The more you move the tighter everything will be. But…up to you.”
“And this gets you off?”
“It gets me hot. Like it does you. This both withholds and gives you pleasure, and it does the same for me. I can sit, watch, and learn from you—what you like—just by how you end up moving.”
He sips the rum.
“This is a true intimacy, one stripped away of the other trappings of lust.” Mercer slowly strokes a hand over his erection, and I moan.
I want it.
“Every single twist and knot is unique and for you. Pleasure and pain. And they’re the same if done right.”
“M-my legs are starting to shake.”
“And yet you’re wetter than ever, Pollyanna. Pleasure and pain, just like I said.”
“You and me?” I gasp, stumbling. As I try to catch myself, the ropes tighten, digging in, making things pulse and pound. It’s too much on my ass, pussy, and clit all at once. My breasts burn and ache from the tightness of the ropes. “Is that what we are? Is my pain your pleasure?”
“Yes. It’s symbiotic,” he said, taking another swallow as he slowly works his cock.
Mercer doesn’t seem in any hurry to get it out, to finish the job. It’s almost like he’s enjoying my discomfort.
“Your pain is exquisitely mine, and my pleasure is yours. You feed off it. And it goes the other way, too. My pain is yours and I feed off your pleasure.”
He gets up, tightens the ropes, adjusts things. Now he stops talking, it’s like he’s in a zone. He’s still hard but he isn’t touching himself. When it looks like he’s satisfied,he goes back to his desk and opens his computer, seemingly forgetting about me.
The awareness is a loud buzz in the air, though. And inside, through that discomfort, comes a wave of pleasure. It teases at the edge of me and if I move just so, the ropes tighten on my breasts and push up against all those nerve endings at my ass and pussy.
I start to rock, getting off on something that feels so good.
“Pollyanna?” Mercer’s voice is still soft. “You can’t come until I let you.”
I tumble down into the cracks of this dark and twisted world, right into one that’s him and includes every single sensation inside my body. Even the discomfort is good, it heightens the pleasure.
I press my lips together. I want to beg. Ask for sweet release. The edge of pleasure…it’s enough and it’s torture. But I love it. I need it and so much more. My head spins, breath stuttering.
Mercer comes up to me, fingers sliding in between my flesh and the rope on my belly. “Shh, I hear you.”
Soft little sounds permeate the air. They barely register, but I know they come from me.
