Page 42 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
Collin stared at the glass surface of the desk. He couldn’t see, but he could feel every single bit of length, each tug and pull. The rope went around his ankle twice, then around his upper thigh. It was solid, anchoring. Between that and the burn in his ass, the need to scratch and bang his head was gone. Entirely. Mr. Reevesworth wove the rope up and around three times, each time more firmly anchoring Collin’s lower leg to his upper leg. There was no way he could unbend it now.
Mr. Reevesworth lowered Collin’s bound leg slowly, still keeping Collin in place on the desk. He ran his hand over Collin’s ass and up his back, curling his fingers around Collin’s neck once again. “Good boy.”
Tears collected on Collin’s eyelashes.
“I’m going to help you down to the ground now. As long as you are under or behind my desk, no one will see you. When you need the bathroom, I will help you. When you need food, I will fetch it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth’s fingers carded through Collin’s hair. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”
“I still have the work that you assigned me, sir.”
“I’ll fetch your devices, the ones from Ash, and bring them to you. You can work on the floor.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth slid his arm under Collin’s chest and pulled him upright. For a long moment, he held Collin there, against his chest, his hand wrapped around the front of Collin’s throat. He pressed his lips against the pulse point of his neck. Collin tilted his head back, arching his neck into the touch. It was everything.
“Let’s get you settled.” Mr. Reevesworth moved his chair aside with his foot and lowered Collin to the floor.
It was awkward. Collin put out one hand and sat sideways, his tied leg tucked underneath and the other stretched out. There was sufficient room for him on the carpet behind the desk. And if he put his back against the wall or against the desk, then he would be able to balance a laptop or a tablet on one thigh or another.
“What’s your color, Collin?”
“Green, sir.” No hesitation. The word came out of his lips without thought.
“Good boy.” Mr. Reevesworth ran his hands through Collin’s hair again. “I’m going out to the office. I’ll be gone five minutes at most. Stay.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth went around the desk and out the office door. It closed with a click behind him. Collin looked down at the rope around his leg. It was a work of art, not merely a binding but a strong, intricate work of aesthetically pleasing knots, balanced one against each other in dark-blue fibers. He touched them; they were slightly rough but not sharp.
Like a meditation, his fingers traced the lines. There were three sets, one just below his knee, one in the center of his thigh, and one high, near the line of his groin, and going around the first anchor of wrap around his ankle. He slid his finger under the lengths, testing them. Tight but not cruel. He couldn’t shift without feeling the grip of the tie against his skin.
Like he couldn’t breathe without feeling Mr. Reevesworth’s hand around his throat when he was gripped. Or how he couldn’t harden in his pants without feeling the cage around his cock.
Collin closed his eyes and slumped forward, head against the tower of drawers holding up the desk. Where was the person he had been just weeks before? Gone. Or was he? He brushed another tear off his cheek. He’d messed up. He’d broken the rules. And he’d panicked. And instead of cold, instead of emptiness, there was this, these bonds, the heat across his aching ass from the three strikes from the belt, and the points on his skin where he could still feel the lingering heat of Mr. Reevesworth’s body holding him down and holding him up.
If Mr. Reevesworth walked back in and wanted to twist more rope over his other limbs, he’d offer them up. Just for more of that warmth. Was this a punishment? It hardly felt like one.
He flinched at the opening of the door. It closed again. That was Mr. Reevesworth’s stride across the carpet. He could tell just by the cadence and the length.
“Ash is working on your old computer and checking your phone. We’ll likely need to replace them. They’re out-of-date enough that he’s not confident on making them secure again.” Mr. Reevesworth knelt down beside Collin with Collin’s backpack, computer, phone, and water bottle. He set them on the carpet within reach. “I asked him to save your files and a list of programs you would need purchased for a new machine. You can order them tonight on the household tablet when we get home. But he might not have your files scrubbed for viruses and malware until Friday. Will this cause you any issues?”
Collin shook his head. “No, sir. Now that I’m not finishing this semester’s classes.”
“Good.” Mr. Reevesworth stood up and walked around the desk to sit in his chair. He could have stepped over Collin but chose not to. Instead, he stroked his fingers down Collin’s damp cheek after he had settled. “Don’t be strong, pet. If you’re struggling, put a hand on my leg, and we’ll fix it.”
Collin turned his face and pressed it against the back of Mr. Reevesworth’s hand. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth looked down at him for a long moment and smiled, just a little. It was a little sad and a little pleased. Then he turned away, pulling his keyboard toward him. “Tell me once you’ve finished comparing those two quotes for the Concord Street development.”
Mr. Reevesworth didn’t let Collin out of the rope for the toilet, for lunch, or the toilet again later. Collin sat on one side of his ass for a while, then switched sides. He had to move frequently to keep his feet from going numb. But his work flowed more quickly than he was used to. He was deep inside the plans for the development, one set of proposals open on his tablet and the other on the laptop. It wasn’t work he had done before, and he had to use internet searches to check terms every few minutes, but it was close enough to the work he’d done before that he could see issues. One contract was proposing something that was obviously fairly boilerplate with a few adaptations for the specific land plot. The other one was more original. Neither had done a full neighborhood-integration assessment.
Around two in the afternoon, Collin put his hand on Mr. Reevesworth’s thigh in a quiet space between the man’s calls. After two minutes, Mr. Reevesworth pushed his chair out and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him. “What is it?”
Collin held up his tablet. “Do you want an oral overview or a written report?”
