Page 12 of Traps and Gretchen

Everything in her screamed she didnotwant to know.Submissive!“If you… want to tell me then I want to know.”

His low chuckle pressed between her legs like the massage vibrator she sometimes used there. “I want you to want to know. I want you toneedto know.”

“I do,” she blasted, her pulse a war drum beating in all the wrong and right places. “I want to know what it means to you.”

“It meansforcingyou into a position of complete submission. It means stretching you physically and testing youmentally. It means breaking every secret part of you wide open. And then it means me taking all of that andtasting it.Slowly. Because I want to savor it. I want to understand it. But if I don’t like what I taste Ma Petite Fyoo-rie, I will cut the ropes. I will cut every tie they represent. And you will never see me again. But… if Idolike what I taste, MaBelleFyoo-rie. Then, I will bind you tighter. I will open you wider. And I will devour you. I willownevery part of you. I will bind up your very deepest parts and trap them inside myself until my blood flows with your blood and all that you are will become mine. I’m two minutes away. Be waiting for me in my bed.Submissivewife.”

He hung up and she stood there, swaying in the storm he’d brought inside her.Be waiting in my bed submissive wife.

Her numb mind went on autopilot, and she watched the walls move past her. She felt the bedroom knob, cool against her palm. She heard the metal click as she turned it and then froze, realizing where she stood. His room. It had been off limits to her. By her own order. She’d entered it once in a fit of rage she’d borrowed from one of her personas and never recovered from that aftermath. There were some powers no amount of fury could protect you from and his room and all that it held was one such power. Its profound affect was the spreading kind. His room called to her the way a highly anticipated book called to her mind. But beyond that door was not just a book, it was a trap. A soul trap. With life sustaining things she’d not only be required to consume but want to. More than anything.

No turning back.

The sound of the front door jolted her into action, and she flew into the room and hopped onto his bed, scrambling to the center of it. She placed her hands at her sides and closed her eyes tight, feeling the coarse patch blanket made from bear fur under her fingers. The smell of him engulfed her like flames until she opened her mouth for more air. Now she couldtastehim. Andhe was coming, his footsteps heavy in the hall, measured in her blood, matched by her pulse.

No turning back.

Oh God. She was laying in heaven.

KINBAKU

Traps paused in the doorway of his room, staring at the vision on his bed.Yes, this is real. Yes, you’re really doing it. No, you’re not ever turning back.

He slowly shut the door behind him, the click echoing in the quiet room. He made his way to the bed, staring down at his little sacrificial, wicked nun-wife. He carefully set his ropes down at the foot of the bed, fighting the hungers she provoked in him. All the why’s would soon be answered. And he’d start at the very beginning, from the moment she learned he’d picked her—or thought he had—to this moment.

“Are you ready, wife?” he said, sitting on the bed next to her, admiring the contrast of her creamy skin against the black bear pelts he’d stitched together.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He didn’t have to wonder what had hold of her body and mind, her fear was its own power in the air. He’d been debating when to have her naked and decided he’d use that as leverage during interrogation. If she wasn’t honest with him, it’d cost her, and he’d begin with what covered her body. Her body that would soon behisbody if he found her worthy enough to take.

“Sit up, Ma Petite Fyoo-rie,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.

She obeyed immediately, her chest heaving, eyes still clenched tight.

“Turn so that your back faces me.” After she complied, he reached for the smaller hemp rope and knelt on the bed behind her. “Get on your knees.”

He set the rope down and helped her into position, making sure his touch matched his gentle tone. “I’m going to bind you in tah-kah- teh-koh- teh,” he said, taking her long hair into his hands. The feel of the heavy silk intoxicated him as he gathered it into a high ponytail. “I don’t mind that you’re afraid,” he whispered. “But… I will not hurt you.” He removed the tie from his own hairlocks and used it to secure her glorious mane that would serve as its own rope later.

“Relax your arms at your sides, Petite Fyoo-rie,” he instructed, holding her left shoulder with one hand and gliding his fingers down her other arm. He stopped at her wrist and clutched it tightly in his fingers, giving it a slow tug. “Just a little twist,” he whispered, turning her palm in toward her body then slowly moving her hand to the center of her back. He did the same with the other, going slowly, savoring the feel of her in his fingers, the sight of him taking ownership of her tiny frame. Once he had both hands in the center of her back, he began wrapping, again taking his time and forming the loops perfectly while ensuring the fibers lay exactly where they needed for optimal control and comfort.

He slid his fingers along the column of her neck, then shoulder blades, lowering his mouth near her ear, desperate to take a taste. “How do the ropes feel, wife? On a pleasure scale of one to ten.”

“They… don’t feel bad.”

He stroked the long mane of hair in his right hand, slowly winding it around his fist. He gently tugged, forcing her face up at his. He studied her beauty, letting it feed his hunger. Eyes closed, worry between her brows… those perfect red lips parted with shallow breaths. Fuck, he craved her. “That’s not what Iasked.” Hunger drew his mouth right next to hers, tripling her fear and excitement.

“T-ten,” she barely gasped, her breaths shaking with the rest of her.

He paused at that answer, allowing his mouth to graze her cheekbone. “I believe you,” he whispered, letting her know he was judging every word. He turned her face, studying various angles till his hunger turned wild. “Ma Belle Petite Fyoo-rie.” He held her mane tight, sliding his other hand along the column of her neck, letting her feel his advantage over her. “I’m going to lay you on your back now.”

He gently scooped her up in his arms and set her down in the center of the bed. “You will tell me immediately if there is pain,” he instructed her. “Oui?”

She nodded with her eyes tightly closed still. “Oui,” she whispered, her breaths shaking more.

“Tell me what has you afraid, Fyoo-rie.” He tossed one end of another hemp rope over the beam above the bed. “Do you fear I will hurt you?”

The quick shake of her head brought another spear of desire to his cock.

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