Chapter 24

HE WALKED HER THROUGH the playroom to the back wall and into the same station as his demonstration with Narissa. Instead of being on the outside looking in, tonight, she would be the one bound by the rope master. It seemed beyond her comprehension.

“Did you stretch?” Tristan asked.

“Before I left home, but that was an hour ago,” she said, as her gaze swept the people at the velvet rope. Only a few had gathered, but as others noticed activity, the number grew.

“Do a few more,” he directed, as he made preparations, lowering chains from the ceiling and adjusting the lighting. “Concentrate on your shoulders and the backs of your thighs while I get a few things ready.”

Piper did the shoulders rolls he taught her, and crossed-arm stretches in front and behind her back, holding each for ten seconds. The sound of metal latches drew her eyes from the onlookers—up to about fifteen now—to Tristan at what looked like a leather-bound pirate’s chest. When he flipped open the lid, inside were spools of rope, both natural and in a rainbow of colors. After he cut several lengths of the undyed jute he preferred, he slipped his safety scissors into his pocket.

He got to his feet and moved in her direction. She remained motionless, her mind blank except for the rope in his hands which would soon be wound around her. His raised her chin, his discerning gaze searching. She knew what he was looking for—signs of panic.

“I’m ready, sir,” she said before he could ask. It was a bold statement, considering her racing heart, but it was from excitement and determination as much as dread. She could do this. Moreover, she needed to. The purpose of her being here to face and overcome her fear. For him at least. She wanted to experience everything she could with the rope master.

Tristan lightly caressed her cheek, softly murmuring, “That’s my brave girl,” which was the best panic eliminator in the world. “I’ll check in with you often. You have a safeword, but before it gets to that, don’t be shy about speaking up. If anything pinches or starts tingling like it’s falling asleep, I need to know.”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to the faces outside the station.

He moved between her and the audience, his broad shoulders blocking them out completely. “They’re only background. Your focus should be on me, and my commands, and the feel of the ropes.”

“I’ll try to remember, but it won’t be easy.”

“I could blindfold you to help you focus, but that wouldn’t help us accomplish our goal. Neither does your dress.” He slipped the thin straps off her shoulders and tugged the slippery fabric over her hips. It fell with a soft swish to her feet.

“You may keep the panties tonight, but don’t get used to it.”

His warning of things yet to come should have penetrated more, but a sudden increase in chatter, sounding as if the crowd had doubled in size, drew her attention away. He caught her chin again. “Where is your focus supposed to be?”

“On you and your ropes, sir.”

He nodded, the warmth of his fingers a fleeting sensation on her cheek before he released her and turned to address the crowd. When he spoke, the aura of command resonated to those gathered, silencing the murmurs and chatter in an instant.

“Welcome to what I like to call shibari 101. If you’ve been around the club for a while, you’ve likely seen this demonstration already. It won’t hurt my feelings if you pass on seeing it again.” There was a ripple of laughter, but she noticed none of them left. “My rope bottom tonight is Piper. She’s new to BDSM. Please be understanding if she’s nervous and be respectful per the membership rules.”

As he wound rope around her upper body with practiced precision, Tristan gave the same brief history of Japanese rope bondage she’d heard before. He also explained step by step what he was doing, his emphasis on safety.

A quick glance beyond the lights of the station told her the crowd had swelled. They were in shadows, and she couldn’t count the precise number, but at least fifty sets of eyes were upon her.

She breathed in. You can do this. The female body is a beautiful thing. Every woman has butts and breasts, just in different sizes. No biggie.

Tuning out the bustling crowd, the music, and the various noises from neighboring scenes, she narrowed her focus solely on Tristan. Not a hard task, exactly. His whispered instructions were meant for her ears alone as he guided her with a self-assured hand. The friction of the rope against her skin, the purposeful pulls as he skillfully tied his knots, awakened her senses. Her nipples became taut, and, whenever he brushed them with his forearm or body while working, her skin erupted in goose bumps.

“Are you with me, Piper?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied. “I understand why people find this relaxing.” And arousing, although she kept that to herself for now.

“The feel-good chemicals are flowing, I see.” More loudly, he once again addressed his audience. “This body harness is called the butterfly. It’s an excellent base tie to build upon. I use it often because it’s comfortable for lengthy sessions, and the series of knots in back gives me several options for anchor points, making it ideal for suspensions.”

He grasped her shoulders, gently turning her and allowing them to see his work. His warm breath caressed her neck. “Open your eyes, Piper. You must see what everyone else does. How breathtaking you look bound in my rope—like a priceless work of art.”

Eager to see, when her eyes flew open, she sucked in a shocked breath, her image reflected in wall-mounted mirrors she’d failed to notice. The harness he’d crafted with such ease was beautifully intricate and proved his skill, but what Piper noticed most was how it framed her generous curves, making her feel more exposed than simply being naked. The rope encircled and intertwined around her body, at her chest, ribs, and waist. Subtle yet firm pressure squeezed her breasts, salaciously presenting them as the constriction made them swell. More rope ran over each shoulder, while the knots that interconnected it all traced a path vertically along her spine.

He ran a finger along the double strand above her breasts. Though he didn’t touch her, she watched his slow deliberate movement, appearing so erotic her nipples tightened more, standing out like rosy bullets.

“What do you think?” he asked, slipping the same finger between her breasts and under the rope, testing the tightness.

When she looked up, he stood behind her, his eyes locked on her reflection, admiring but also awaiting her answer. He really overestimated her, expecting she could think, much less carry on a conversation. But she gave it her best shot.

“I, um...it’s...a little shocking,” she admitted hesitantly.

“Only because it’s new to you. How does it feel? Is anything too tight?” As he spoke, he checked each line, twist, and knot, assessing her skin with meticulous attention.

“It’s snug, but not overly so,” she answered with a hitching breath.

His gaze reconnected with hers in the mirror as his hand stroked her throat, fingers pausing over her pulse point. “Your heart is racing. How’s your anxiety on a scale of one to ten, one being naptime and ten, you’re running screaming for the door?”

“Five down from a nine,” she replied honestly. “Seeing myself like this was startling at first, but now I understand why you draw such crowds.” Her gaze dropped to the ropes enveloping her once again. “You’re very good at this. And fast.”

“It comes with practice, but these ties are very basic. My more advanced rope work can take hours, which is why we have to build up your tolerance and endurance. I have a few more additions if you’re ready to continue.”

She trembled in anticipation. Uff-da! What else did he have planned?

“Is that a yes?”

Her eyes shot to his, confused.

His lips twitched, nearing a smile. “Uff-da?”

Cheese and mice. Had she really said that out loud?

Her voice cracked in her suddenly dry throat. “I meant to say, yes, I’m ready to keep going.”

His fingers, warm and strong, slid to the back of her neck, pulling her gently toward him. “Trust me to take care of you, Piper. You’ll enjoy this if you can relax and let yourself go.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply several times. Funny how the ropes didn’t make it hard for her lungs to expand. After a long, last sigh, she met his gaze in the mirror once more.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good. Keep breathing and spread your legs. Time to show you what I have planned.”

Instead of her anxiety skyrocketing to nine once again, a surge of intense desire flooded through her. She didn’t need to be asked twice. Adjusting her stance, she widened the gap between her feet by about a foot.

“Farther,” he urged, his hand on the back of her neck applying gentle, encouraging pressure.

Piper slid her right foot another six inches to the side.

“Perfect,” he said, stopping her.

His hand glided along her jaw and down her throat, the rope-roughened callouses on his fingers heightening the stimulation of his caress. His gaze fell upon her breasts, their accelerated rise and fall matching her quickened breathing, her nipples firmer and more pronounced than ever before. In a moment of hesitation, as if contemplating his next move, he circled each one with a single fingertip.

“Every inch of you is beautiful, Piper. We’ll explore them more thoroughly after the show,” he whispered before he addressed his audience again. “The butterfly usually includes a hip harness, but I left it off to show you a basic crotch rope, also called matanawa .”

Piper watched his reflection as he crouched in front of her and connected a new rope to the one at her waist. He then tied a series of knots with mesmerizing speed, creating what looked like a French braid. Tristan ran it between her legs, and moving behind her, connected it to the waist rope in back.

“A matanawa can be for purely aesthetic purposes,” he explained. “Or, by increasing the tension, for erotic stimulation.”

To demonstrate, he gave it a tug that wedged the knots along the seam of her pussy and snugly between her cheeks before tying it off. If he hadn’t left her panties, they would be pressed tight against her clit and puckered hole, and all parts in between.

“The knots serve a dual purpose. They can also accommodate certain toys in strategic places.”

She barely suppressed a moan, tingling in the places he referred to without the augmentation of toys.

“Questions?” It wasn’t directed at her but at the crowd. As he answered several inquiries, his voice mostly a deep, soothing hum in her head, he kept a hand on her, never breaking their connection.

“Why leave her arms free?” a nasally sounding man suddenly called out.

“You must be new here,” Tristan drawled, which spurred a ripple of laughter.

“If you were paying attention,” a woman interjected impatiently, “you would have heard Master Tristan say the butterfly is a good base tie. Obviously, he isn’t done.”

“Mistress Lorraine is correct.” Tristan turned her back to the mirror. Now she faced one hundred and fifty observers, at least, standing behind the velvet rope. “Combining two or three basics gives you the look of more complex ties. It’s easier, safe, and is a time saver. For example, blending the butterfly and the matanawa , with a simple behind-the-back wrist tie, creates a stunning visual effect in half the time. Or something like the bunny, which is one of my favorites, is basic and quick, but steps it up a level. Let me show you.”

Tristan raised her arms above her head then had her bend her elbows and cross her wrists behind her neck. He wound a double length of rope around her biceps then her wrists and knotted it off. In the end, she was restrained with her elbows pointed toward the ceiling just like bunny ears.

She heard chains above her head rattle. Looking up, which wasn’t easy, she saw him grip one with a metal circle on the end. More clanking sounded as he pulled it down to her level.

“I’m using a suspension rope to help stabilize Piper for the last tie.” To her, he said softly, “You’re doing great. Is everything feeling good? Any joints strained? Any skin pinched?”

“Everything feels amazing.”

He looked down into her eyes, his own assessing. Then his mouth kicked up on one side. It wasn’t a full smile, and not quite a half, but it was something.

“You’re close to flying like the last time, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed.

“What feels good? Your breasts? They’re swollen and your nipples are tight. Or is it the crotch rope?”

“Yes.”

The tiny lines beside his eyes crinkled, and his hands curved around her ribs, affection in his caress. But then he issued a warning about what was to come. “The next position will be a bit more challenging, but I’ll be right here with you.”

“More sounds good to me,” she said, wistfully agreeable.

“Where have you been hiding? You’re taking to this like a duck to water.”

“Iowa. More recently, right next door,” she replied then giggled.

“You’re also rope drunk, or on the verge.”

She shook her head so that the chains overhead rattled. “I only had one sangria, promise.”

“No, that means... Never mind. I’ll explain during aftercare.” He continued more loudly, for the others’ benefit. “Next is a kata-ashi-zuri which in English translates to one-legged-suspension. With one foot on the floor, it’s technically a partial suspension. I’m adding a fourth tie, a futomomo , which is any tie with the thigh and calf touching. It’s also known as a fat leg , but I’ve found my models aren’t fond of me calling it that.”

Laughter rippled through the observers. Tristan had a dry wit when performing—who knew?

“The leg will be my second anchor point. You’ll notice if I have multiple suspension ropes, they are independent of the others for added safety.”

By the time he concluded, Piper stood on one leg, the other bent calf-to-thigh with her heel touching her butt, and he’d attached it with rope to the metal ring above her.

“These four basic ties can fully immobilize your sub in under twenty minutes. Much less if you’re not doing a play-by-play.” With his hand on her raised knee, Tristan walked in a circle, turning her slowly as he went, so the audience could see her from all angles. “Any other questions?”

“You mentioned accessories,” an onlooker reminded him.

“I did, didn’t I?” He released her, but only long enough to retrieve something else from the chest. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with a wand.”

Piper wasn’t, but she couldn’t speak up. She was too busy trying to keep from moaning and giving away how aroused she was from Tristan’s hands on her everywhere, and the constant, highly distracting presence of the crotch rope. Suddenly it tightened, pressing more firmly from stem to stern. She heard a loud buzzing at the same time she felt vibrations against her pussy from the aforementioned accessory.

“Mmm-ooh,” she half moaned and whimpered as Tristan made a slight adjustment, sending powerful, rapid pulses through the thin layer of her panties to her clit and straight through to her core.

She would have demanded to know what the heck that was, but all that passed her lips were indecipherable cries of pleasure. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw the crowd had expanded to at least 100, no doubt drawn by the racket she was making. She couldn’t help it, though, and she didn’t care how many gawked. All that mattered was the evil device between her legs and finding release.

“You’ve been a perfect rope model, Piper,” Tristan praised, his hands once again sweeping her body, always checking and rechecking. “Your reward is to come whenever you want to.”

Her body reacted before she could fully process his words, trembling and contracting as her orgasm rocked through her. She would have fallen if not for the two suspension ropes, and Tristan’s arm around her waist.

She needed the extra support because, on the tail of one climax, another started. Shuddering, so that the chains clanked loudly overhead, she was at the mercy of Tristan, his ropes, and the supercharged wand he’d affixed to her body.

Before number two could subside, another built. “No. I can’t,” she pleaded. But she had control of neither Master Tristan nor the supercharged vibe, and she exploded in orgasm number three.

She sobbed as it crested then mercifully, the buzzing ceased. She felt his lips on her arm in a gentle kiss, and he held her through the aftershocks until she finally stopped shaking.

“Three in a row. I’ve never...” she gasped. “What is that thing?”

“Just a little magic to cap off a highly successful and well-received partial-suspension demonstration.”

She thought she heard him chuckle, but she wouldn’t put money on it. Odds were she’d lose. Besides, she was breathing too hard to hear clearly and was likely mistaken.

With great care, he released her, massaging her muscles and passively flexing her joints when she didn’t have the strength to.

There were a few stragglers at the ropes, the rest having moved on when the show was over. One was Master Eric, who had Val at his side, both with approving looks on their faces. Then, arm in arm, they walked away.

Piper was still reeling from Tristan’s ropes, the scene, and unexpected back-to-back-to-back orgasms to understand the significance. She wasn’t too far gone to know that she was in trouble, however. Even with an audience, his hypnotic voice, his touch, his commanding confidence, and the intimacy of his ropes stirred something deep within her she couldn’t ignore. And she didn’t mean three phenomenal orgasms. But in her life, she’d never had a two-fer. Now this!

Despite his warning not to lose her heart to him, she’d gone and done it. Every time they were together, with each kiss and each scene, and yes, when they teased or sparred or fought outright, when he took care of her, in so many ways, she couldn’t help but fall deeper under his spell. Her new mission as of that moment was to help him break free of what was keeping him from admitting he felt the same way—completely and utterly enamored. He must. She saw it in his eyes, the hint of a smile, and felt it in the tenderness of his touch. Now, if she could only get him to acknowledge it.

TRISTAN FLIPPED THE sign from Clean to Needs Cleaning and left the station with Piper in his arms. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever enjoyed a demonstration more, and he’d done plenty. Piper was the perfect height for him, and her sweet curves enhanced his ropes. She’d taken to every pose and tie and responded to every command. And once the happy hormones were flowing, she’d gotten giddy and cute, and almost made him laugh—which was unheard of. As he’d told her, in a word, she was perfect.

She was also a cuddly warm armful wrapped in a blanket, seated in his lap in a quiet corner on an aftercare couch, sipping water. He’d almost burst into laughter again when, while he massaged the lines left by the ropes, she suddenly exclaimed, “Where has aftercare been all my life? It’s awesome.”

Flying as high as she was, she was ripe for a drop. He reached into the well-stocked cooler beside the couch and grabbed a Hershey bar. Breaking off a square, he held it to her lips. “Eat this and finish your water.”

When it hit her tongue, she smiled. “Chocolate. Awesome. See what I mean?”

“All subs deserve a little pampering after what their demented doms put them through.”

Suddenly, her smile vanished, and she looked pensive. “Do you think that’s true?”

“Most good doms do, and I’m a good dom.”

“Not the pampering part. Do you think I’m submissive?”

“After that scene, why would you think you’re not?”

“I created a different type of scene in the lounge the last time I was here and forced you to come after me. That’s not very submissive.”

“Submissive doesn’t mean you take crap when it’s handed to you.”

“But I’m a wimp when it comes to pain. I don’t think I could take much more than the flogging you gave me the last time.”

“BDSM isn’t only about pain. I know a lot of rope bottoms who aren’t into more pain than the ropes provide. We’re all wired differently.”

She took a sip of her water and settled back in his arms, but only for a moment. “Is there such a thing as a pleasure sub? I could get into that. I came like bang, bang, bang with that wand!” Her cheeks flooded with color—a lovely shade of pink. “Did I really just say that? What’s wrong with me? I’m rambling when I don’t usually.”

“You’re rope drunk.”

“You mentioned that. Is that like subspace?”

“Pretty much. Everyone reacts to it differently. It may get more intense with subsequent sessions when you learn to let go. How do you feel?”

“Like I had another sangria, but I’m sober. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“Being tied was so calming. I let my mind go blank, and the world faded away. There was only you and me, and a flood of sensation. And the longer it went on, the more sensitive I got. I felt the roughness of the ropes and the pressure like when you tied my knee and I had to balance on one foot. But there was no pain, only a floaty, wonderful, hyperaware feeling. Does that even make sense?”

“Yes. It comes from a glut of those feel-good chemicals I told you about.”

“You feel them too, don’t you?”

He tried to maintain his neutral mask because her insight surprised him. “I do to a certain extent. Shibari is very centering for me. Although it rarely happens during a demo when my attention is split, there is such a thing as top space. With my total focus on the sub, everything else fades into the background for me, too. I also enjoy the creativity of new poses and ties. With the right partner, when there’s a connection and she has surrendered to the freedom of the ropes, it’s a thing of beauty.”

“Looking at it from the outside, I could admire its beauty, but it wasn’t until I experienced it that I truly understood.” She rested her hand on his bearded jaw. “I’m glad you have this in your life because I believe it’s the only time you’re truly free. In the weeks we’ve known each other, the only time I’ve seen you relax enough to smile is when you’re rigging. You didn’t quite get there with me tonight, but I’m not giving up on you.”

After throwing that emotional curveball, the minx snuggled against him and closed her eyes. His arms tightened around her, savoring her softness and the way she fit perfectly in his embrace. From the day they met, he’d known she was special, but had only recently come to realize she possessed a magic capable of banishing the gloom surrounding him. How many times had he fought back laughter at her unfiltered reactions? She injected a spark of hope inside him that there was more to life than simply going through the motions. For the first time in a long time, he contemplated a future where he wasn’t alone.