Chapter 7

Liselotte

“I can’t believe your sugar ropes are this strong, but I guess they would have to be to lasso a struggling teen. How are your wrists? Any rubbing on your ankles?” Gerhard checks my pulse on my wrists and at the top of my hooves for the thousandth time. When he asked me for my work kit to retrieve my ropes, I was nervous. The degradation of my bonds restraining me wasn’t a feeling I thought I would like, but the arousal sliding down my spread legs says otherwise.

Suspended between my bedposts in a web of sugar ropes, I’m lulled into a headspace of peace. I can surrender to Gerhard’s care in these ropes and let go of Ms. Krampus. There are no worries, daunting tasks, or judging eyes. I’m free from everything—even gravity. His woven lattice supports my weight evenly, so not one of my muscles must flex to bear my weight. The rope’s knots press into my fleshy thighs and belly like insistent fingertips. Gerhard’s anticipation crackles in the air around me, but I’m too dazed to share in the excitement.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers in awe. I’m jostled awake by the posts as he climbs onto the bed. “Your body shines with need, but your face radiates peace.”

“Hmmm.” My lips won’t form words. How do I express the gift of surrender? My mind floats on the ceiling, detached from my body and identity. I’m a presence or a ball of energy. Nothing more. Nobody puts responsibilities or expectations on a ball of energy, so I have all the freedom of not existing while existing just for my master… Oh, the man gazes up at me as if I’m an oracle and he’s a peasant just happy to worship at my feet.

“ Schone kleine dame , beautiful little lady, I’m not worthy of the vision you present in this pose. Danke, danke , oh thank you for letting your master suspend you.” He crawls down the bed to feather kisses over the top of my hoof and up the back of my furry calf.

His tongue swirls in the crease of my hairless knee, and all my attention focuses on that area of my body. Time and place cease to exist, so nothing else matters but the way he drinks my arousal from the inside of my smooth thigh. My empty cunt pulses until I’ve provided a mess for him to clean. He laps between my legs but doesn’t penetrate my slit. Frustration fills the empty spaces in my mind. Red hot, pulsing need climbs my spine.

“Please, more, please, deep, no, I, more, Master!” I spew incoherent words as my brain tries to order him to push me over the edge. I’m so close. One tap on my clit, and I will soar with the largest orgasm I’ve ever had. Instead, his tongue dances around where I need him the most.

“Almost, kleine dame , you are almost too tempting to punish,“ he whispers in my ear before planting a tiny kiss on my open lips. Careful not to touch me, he slides away. I vibrate with tension, rattling my bonds, as he lazily removes his clothes. Air rushes out of my flared nostrils like an enraged animal.

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees as I glare at him.

His chuckle makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.

“Thank your master for your first punishment, kleine dame ,” he says, taking his cock in hand. The lazy pump of his fist hypnotizes me back into subspace.

I stare until my eyes droop. The fire drains from me until subspace claims my mind. Drool drips from my open mouth before I can catch it. My mind is too relaxed to be embarrassed. The droplet catches on my breast and hangs off my nipple until he claims it in an open-mouthed kiss. He suckles and teases the engorged bud until it pokes from the lattice of bonds. I’m thrusting my hips toward him by the time he’s finished with my second nipple. My nerves alight once more. All systems are alert and focused.

“Bad girl, not thanking your master. Don’t worry, you will learn how. I’ll teach your body to peak, withhold, and settle at my command. For now, your effort alone pleases me.” His lips brush my distended nipples with each word.

“Let me climax,” I groan. “Please, master.”

“Oh, you beg so prettily.” He trails little nips down my belly, over my hip bone, and my outer labia. His teeth tug the flesh until I’m writhing and pleading. I’m tied too tightly to nudge my clit against his nose or chin. My eyes squeeze shut to block out the erotic scene between my legs. I draw blood by biting a hole in my tongue.

But I need. Oh Gods, do I need! Just one more touch…

He bounces on the bed to shake me awake as he retreats to the headboard. My eyes fly open. If I had a leg free, I’d kick his diabolical smile. Each inhale presses my breasts further into the rope lattice. Sweat drips down the sides of my body as my arousal burns out of control. I growl and snarl, all civility abandoned.

“What cute little teeth you have, kleine dame ,” he says with a chuckle. “You’ve made it halfway through your punishment. You see, the lifestyle is more than spanking or whipping. Your submissive role is as my toy. If I wish to spank you, I will. If I choose to edge you, I will—”

“If you choose to fuck me—”

“This wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it?”

Jokes on my sadist. Sugar ropes, heat, sweat, and time don’t mix. They’re strong for catching kids because Krampus releases the delinquents after a few swats. Sugar ropes aren’t meant for what feels like hours of exposure to damp flesh. He leaves me hanging—literally—to use the sink. I roll my left wrist, and to my delight, the rope peels apart into a network of thinner strands. Will he have time to edge me once or twice more before I burst from my bonds?

“Drink,” he whispers, holding a cup to my lips. “Can’t have you drying out, can we?”

“No, master,” I say as sweetly as I dare.

His eyes squint with suspicion. After staring a few seconds, as if waiting for me to confess my thoughts, he checks my pulse in my wrists. There’s no way he noticed the separating of the sugar strands. His face didn’t flinch. He would ask me about them, right? My mind drifts and floats as he checks the pulse at my knees, throat, and tops of my hooves. The water runs in the sink, and heat hits my back.

“My lady, my toy, your punishment doesn’t deny me. Serving you has inspired my cock in the worst way.” His body presses against my back, trapping his erection between my ass and his abdomen. I’d love to swish my tail against his abs, but it is bound in sugar rope. He reaches around my body to tease my overstimulated nipples.

Is that my voice crying out or a wounded animal?

My hips thrust and shake as I reach for stimulation. I sob with relief when his tip appears between my outstretched legs. He collects my fluids onto his shaft as I twitch wantonly. I bend my knees in a vain attempt to align my clit with his thrusts. My range of motion is an agonizing inch too short. My foggy mind doesn’t have the resources to solve the logic puzzle. The rub of his strong biceps against my sides and the rasp of his scruffy jaw against my shoulder distract me. The transition from sensory deprivation to overstimulation makes my body go haywire.

“ Danke ,” he whispers between pants.

His cock disappears. He shuffles behind me. The thrusting pauses. What the hell is he doing back there? I can’t move my head. My cheeks part. I hold my breath. Is he? He wouldn’t. We haven’t discussed limits. What if our first joining being in my ass is a hard limit? I open my lips to argue, but no sound emerges. I’m too messed up to speak. Is this a safe word moment?

No.

My mind shouts loud and clear that I want to give him what he wants. I clamp my mouth shut. He squeezes my cheeks around his cock and shuttles back and forth. The grunts and growls behind me are so sexy, I may climax from them alone. He’s reduced me to a toy to be used to pleasure himself. I’m helpless, vibrating with need and the relentless friction at my back. My waist will bend just over an inch, but I push my ass his way, wordlessly asking for what I didn’t want seconds ago. All his instructions on discussions before scenes, establishing boundaries and safe words, and what it’s like in a true fit of passion lock into place in my mind.

I’m not in control of myself.

I don’t know what I want or what my boundaries are…but that’s okay.

My master will take care of me.

He sprays ropes of seed onto my spine as his roar pops my ears. I whimper as he wipes his fingers down my back. His smile is demonic as he enters my field of vision. Slime coats his fingers as he holds them at the end of my nose. Normally, I’d be disgusted, but my jaw drops to receive it. “You’ve pleased me, so you get a treat.”

He takes advantage of my open mouth to force his tongue inside. Our feral kiss is a clashing of teeth. I moan when his fingers plunge inside of me. My starving cunt clenches down on his fingers, grateful for attention—no matter how rough.

“Do you feel my seed taking root? Do you feel how your hungry body sucks it off my fingers? You wish you could milk it from the source, don’t you? Follow my rules and let me take care of you, little lady, and you will ride my cock every night.”

And then I’m surrounded by cold.

He’s leaning against the headboard. My teeth rattle with the shaking of my body. The swift pivot from climbing toward orgasm to denial rips a scream from my throat. I punch the air to break the sugar ropes, not caring if he learns the secrets of the fraying material.

“This is what makes play into a punishment, kleine dame . Your tantrum fuels my desire to seed you again. There’s pebbling along your arms and legs. You give too much fire to me. Are you cold?”

“Not cold.” My teeth clack, so I sound like I stutter.

“So stubborn.” He tsks. “Your angry flush is beaut—”

The ropes at my wrists burst. I collapse forward, but my arms haven’t the strength to catch me. The bedding rushes toward my face as the cords binding my elbows, waist, and knees snap. I’m whipped by the loose ends. Blood rushes to my shoulders, sending electricity tingling down to my fingertips.

I land in Gerhard’s arms.

“Sugar and water don’t mix,” I whisper between pants.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only in the best ways,” I reply as I grab his jaw. Our kiss is sweeter and gentler, with soothing sweeps of tongue and lips. His hands roam my body, but I know he’s checking for injuries. Checking my pulses, and inspecting rope connections, he monitored my comfort more than anyone in my life.

“That’s one way to get out of a punishment,” he chuckles against my lips.

“But is it the way to get my peak?”

The stern master flashes in his grey eyes before melting into my sweet Gerhard. He lies on his back, helping me arrange my legs to straddle his hips. I bite through what’s left of the bonds on my arms. My fingers snap the lengths attached to my waist and legs with ease. I collect the pile of shreds on his chest in a demonstration he isn’t likely to forget.

“Show me, kleine dame , what face you make when you peak,” he commands. He may be lounging on his elbows while I impale myself on his shaft, but he’s in control.

And I love it.

Nothing can be my fault when I’ve surrendered to his will. I’m as perfect as he sees me, which sets me free from the perfectionistic voices in my head. They have no power over him.

I open my labia and hold my legs as wide as my hips allow. My angle shifts slightly forward to nudge my clit on his pubic bone. I’ll get my rubbings now! He can’t reach my nipples, so I kneed my breasts with their aching tips nestled in my palms. They can’t take much more stimulation. Clenching my abdominal muscles and releasing, I create a rolling motion from ribs to hips.

His moan is music to my ears. When I open my eyes, his head is thrown back in bliss.

The slow pace irritates my feverish flesh, so I rock harder. My weight slams against his upper thighs with each down thrust. I scratch his shoulders each time I pull myself forward. My breasts swing, sending zings of pain with each contact of my nipples. Faster and faster I rock. My insides squeeze as my arousal coils deep within. White dots blink in my vision. Will I pass out?

Every muscle in my legs goes rigid. Skeletal muscles lock me in place. My heart and clit pound with all the energy and focus my body can give. I don’t breathe. The muscles of my cervix reach for the seed shooting from his tip. Pulsing, driving, incessant thumps at our joining synchronize. I hold the bliss as long as I can. As it fades, my muscles release my pose, and I collapse on my mate.

“Good girl.”

If I glowed any brighter, I would be mistaken for a star.