Page 133 of Wrangled

I took a moment to study him, the man ready to submit himself to me, to trust me enough to relax and enjoy the sensations. This was always a special moment.

Robert’s submission was as heady to me as it was to him.

Then it was time to slip the tails of the rope between his legs, on either side of his balls, and up his back to pull them through my first loop. I gave it a tug, knowing he’d feel it tighten against his skin, then loosened it a little. I didn’t want too much tension around the groin area. It also gave me scope to move the tails out of the way, for reasons I was keeping to myself.

Once I’d repositioned the knots on the front, I stepped behind him, leaned in, and whispered, “Open your eyes.”

Robert stared at his reflection, and a shiver rippled through him, accompanied by a moan.

The sound of that keening groan was music to my ears.

How does he see himself in this moment?

Then his eyes met mine in the mirror, and I knew.

The rope that bound him also freed him. It represented all the physical and mental ties that made up his life—the ranch, loss, need, longing, sadness, grief—but in that one heart-stopping moment, in that brief span of time when our gazes met, I knew he owned every one of those ties in ways only a sub could.

Control was as much his as it was mine.

Then I gave myself a mental shake. There was a beautiful man waiting for me to finish decorating him.

I was now ready to add the back and sides. I split the tails, bringing each one around to the front on either side of his body.

I met his gaze. “Arms out to the side, straight. Keep them there. And if they dip, you’ll know about it.” He’d feel my hand on his ass.

I hooked the tails through the center line, allowing the rope to glide over his nipples, eliciting a shiver. I loved to hear the hitches in a sub’s breathing, those quiet little moans they couldn’t suppress. There was nothing sexual in what I was doing, yet I knew the feeling of rope sliding over Robert’s body, my hands on him, my nails grazing his skin, my lips or breath caressing his neck or back as I tied him, all of it would combine to send him into a state of arousal. I rarely talked while I did this, but that was because I couldn’t think of anything else, anchored as I was in the moment. I watched his reactions, knowing the feel of the ropes would ground him, sending endorphins rushing through his head and body. Shibari wasn’t fast, or passionate. If anything, it was more of a meditation, for both Dom and sub alike.

His eyes were closed once more, and his almost meditative expression, along with the goosebumps that bloomed over his skin when I trailed fingers over it, spoke louder than words ever could.

As I fashioned the harness around him, I noted yet more goosebumps. “Watch me,” I said in a firm tone.

He opened his eyes, and his nipples grew taut, standing proud, his shivers multiplying. I didn’t need music—I was creating my own. Tying up a submissive was like playing the cello, finding the right speed with which to move the bow across the strings, to provide the most natural resonance, without it being too loud or too soft, where it might disrupt the flow. I was aiming for a perfect level of continuous stimulation, building the intensity of the moment with him. I wanted him to mentally let go of everything else—even for a short while. I wanted him to feel only my body, my hands, my physical warmth as I moved around him, my breath on his skin.

Robert’s breathing caught and he closed his eyes as I pulled the rope tight. I knew he was relishing the squeeze, the feeling of being held, comforted… I loved the shuddering breath that escaped him when I looped the rope through the center line, adjusting it, then tightening, as the hug started to set in. His breathing became more controlled, but the sight of his closed eyes, the unconscious smile that played about his lips, his utterly relaxed posture… all of it pointed to a state of heightened arousal. He seemed to be deep into what I called rope space, and that was confirmed when I touched him to turn him around. The sudden feeling of my warm hands on him made him moan.

When I was almost finished, I stood back to admire my handiwork. He’d kept his arms rock steady. “You can lower your arms now.” When he did so, moving slowly, I shifted closer, letting him feel the warmth from my body. I leaned in and whispered, “Open your eyes, boy. See how I’ve used your body for my designs.”

His eyes popped open, then I watched in the mirror as his pupils dilated.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned.

I had to agree. The tight lacing of the jute rope made a mosaic around his body, finished with an intricate diamond pattern down the center of his abs, the final one shaping his cock and balls.

He trembled, and I pressed my lips to his shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran the length of his body. I dragged my nails over his arms, down his back, then reached around from behind him to play with his nipples, teasing them, flicking them. His shaking intensified, as did his moans. His cock was rock-hard, leaking pre-cum, and when it lurched, I knew he was probably one good stroke from coming right there and then.

I had to work fast.

I seized the lube from the table, unzipped my jeans, freed my dick, and slicked it up. I slid my arm around his torso, my hand to his neck, firmly pressing into his pulse points, while with the other, I grabbed the rope through his crack and hooked it around his ass cheek. With that out of the way, I reached around him to his nipple and gave it a firm pinch, pulling a groan from him. Then I pressed the head of my dick between his cheeks and slid into him in one smooth glide.

The swift penetration, combined with watching himself get fucked, was the overload I’d hoped it would be. Robert shot his load all over the mirror, violent tremors shaking him with each spurt of his cock, until I had to hold him upright because his knees gave out, my own dick throbbing inside him, filling him.

As the tremors ebbed, I kissed his neck, holding him to me, aware of his pounding heart, his staccato breaths. “I’ve got you,” I murmured. When he could stand, I kissed him on the lips. “You were awesome.” I eased out of him, stifling a moan at the sight of my cum dripping from his hole.

He turned his head to stare at his reflection. “You don’t have to take it off right away, do you?”

I laughed. “No, you get to admire yourself for as long as you like. And when you’re done, I’ll remove the rope nice and slow, and you’ll get to see my marks on your skin.” I loved seeing the beautiful patterns produced by the snug rope.

Then I’d hold him, stroke him, kiss him, and maybe even take a nap with him.

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