Page 104 of Something Like Sunflowers

He moves behind my head and positions my arms by my side and brushes light trails over my breasts, placing a kiss behind my ear. I shiver in anticipation. Wanting and needing so much more than he’s giving.

“Be patient.” He swats my wiggling hips. “This exercise isn’t about lust. It’s about trust.” He rubs the rough, singed edge of the rope along my nipple, drawing the tiniest bit of pain with pleasure.

I whimper, bucking my hips up involuntarily, and he laughs. He begins binding my arms to my sides with the rope, coiling it around me as he holds my body in place against the bench.

“These are a nylon-hemp blend. We use them for cattle and horses because they are strong, yet soft. Good for lassos,” he says when he gets to the tops of my shoulders. “You know what lassos are for, right, Ponygirl?”

My brows pinch together. “For stray cattle?”

“For the ones who run away,” he rasps. And I can’t tell you why that turns me the fuck on, but I buck my hips up so high that even he can’t help but chuckle as he holds me down.

“Just like wranglin’ a bull, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna break and let me ride you?”

At this point, he’s bound my arms from the boobs up, and now he’s working his way back down, making sure to coil the remaining red rope around each breast. It’s not so tight that it hurts, but it is tight enough that they’re pulsing. That same heartbeat that was visiting my clit earlier has shot its way to the tips of my reddened nipples, blood rushing to them with the force of the ropes and begging for someone to suck them, lick them. God, I would do anything if he would bend me over and fuck me senseless right this instant.

Maybe this is the patience he was talking about, I think as I struggle against the ropes. He stops coiling, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“If you want me to stop, just say…” he thinks briefly, “… sunflowers, and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay—” I start, but he swats his riding crop down on my swollen breasts, and I cry out in ecstasy. Not sunflowers, but…

“Yes! More!”

The pain is intense, shooting through my nipples and over my blood-rushed body, but the pleasure comes after in soft waves, washing over me and somehow stimulating my pussy simultaneously.

I lick my lips, panting. “I mean yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, running his hand down my body and cupping my pussy. He palms my clit, rubbing circles around while I buck into it, searching for the pressure that will send me spiraling again, but he stops, drawing his hand back up.

“Patience, Dev.”

I whine, but I’m not done playing his game. If I wanted to stop, I’d say sunflowers, but that isn’t what I want, is it? I want him to tease me. I want him to touch me. I want him to have total control over my body because it feels good. Because giving it over to him means I don’t have to live in the reality of overseeing all that is…me. If only in the here and now.

It feels like hours while he slowly wraps me in length after length of the nylon cords. Somehow, he knows perfectly how to do the twists and ties that seem extraordinarily detailed and specific, and a sliver of jealousy slices into my gut.

“Hunt—I mean, Daddy?” I ask, biting my lip, and he groans in response. I can see the way his cock hardens beneath his jeans, revs up when I speak those kinky words. He likes it just like I do. “How do you know how to do all of this…” I can’t exactly gesture down my body since I’m literally bound by the arms, but he gets my insinuation anyhow, cutting off my question.

“Shabari. It’s a form of rope tying. It’s not always sexual. It’s…a type of meditation. An art, even. It’s about transcending.”

“Transcending?” I tease. “Since when did you become so spiritual?”

“Around the same time you started snapping that hair tie, probably.”

My heart goes still for a quick beat, giving space for pieces of his to fit back in, and we both fall silent as he makes work of securing me with pretty twists and intricate loops.

He continues wrapping my body. This time, a beautiful X shape is fashioned across my midsection, leaving my belly button and pelvis exposed. He uses two green ropes to tie along the bottom of the Xs and around my hips, hoisting me so my pelvis is suspended in the air a few inches above the bench while he tugs a thin pink rope through my…butt crack.

I gasp, giggling because it tickles like crazy, but he swats my ass and lowers me back down, my thighs coming to either side of the bench, and he lays me down and kneels in front of me, right between my spread legs.

My pussy is on full display. And the cold night air against my skin on all the patches the rope doesn’t cover has my body shivering, my nipples poised, and I can feel my need for him wetting my skin the longer I wait, drenching the wooden bench beneath me when he breathes in my scent and growls appreciatively.

“I’m going to line this pretty pink pussy with matching pink rope. It’s going to push your lips together real tight while I play with you, until you’re begging me to split them back open with my cock.” He licks his lips, staring at me dripping before him like a fucking buffet. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy!” I cry, desperation and need taking over me. But I still have to wait.

Painfully, minute after minute ticks by on the damn cowboy hat clock on the wall that I plan to smash with the heel of my boot when this is over because it’s making my anticipation ten times worse. And the whole time, Hunter stays perfectly silent.

Aside from his groans and grunts of approval every time his fingers brush the wetness beading from my labia, practically weeping to be fucked. He’s fully bound me from neck to hips, my legs held open by two ropes he’s fastened to the bench and my ankles, and just to be clear, if I don’t get fucked soon, I will die. I will literally die. So, I tell him this.

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