Page 51 of Disgrace

“Sorry…Yes, Sir.” I flash her a comforting smile, and she takes a deep breath. A tinge of nervousness clouds her eyes, but she shakes it away.

“Good girl.” I quickly remove my shoes, shirt and socks so I only have on loose fitted pants for comfort, although they will do little to hide my massive erection that is just starting to make an angry appearance. We may both experience higher levels of pleasure tonight from this play, but I will also have a severe case of blue balls. I turn her away from me and scrape her hair into my hands, pulling any loose tendrils into one ponytail. I slowly braid it and can’t help smiling when she moans and relaxes back into my chest when I’m done. She loves having her hair stroked, guaranteed to send her to sleep in under two minutes. I don’t want her asleep, though, but relaxed and pliant works, too. I run my hand down the length of the braid. It’s still very long.

“Can you twist that up into a bun? I don’t want it getting tangled.” I give a gentle tug.

“Oh, sure. I definitely don’t want to get scalped.” She snickers and deftly secures a neat bun with the single tie already in her hair.

“No, darling, scalping is next week.” She snorts out a big laugh and is about to turn when a low grumble emits from my chest. She checks herself and quickly stands, awaiting instruction. I pull my hardening cock free from its awkward position in my pants and give my balls a little squeeze, which does nothing to ease my growing ache. It’s going to be a long session.

From behind, I take her both of her hands in mine and help her fold her arms behind her back, crossed and at waist height. I walk around to her front and pick up the rope, taking my time threading the length through my hands into large but manageable loops. I hold her gaze and the only noise is our breathing and the rope moving in my palm. The only smell is the oil on the rope warming from the friction in my hand and her increasing arousal. I stand very close. My breath kisses her skin. My hands touch and stroke as I place the rope around her body. Around her chest above and below her breasts, then thread it between them to separate and confine. Multiple knots, loops and ties create an exotic looking exoskeleton of intricate, intertwining rope on her body. I take my time and frequently check her eyes to see her slowly drift closer to the head space I want her to be in. Her face is completely relaxed, her breathing soft and deep, and her eyes are a mix of glaze and shine.

I stroke her cheek to gain her attention, my voice deep and firm, breaking through her haze. “Hey beautiful, are you okay?” Her smile creeps across her face at a glacial pace but lights up the room.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay, beautiful. You ready to try some suspension?” Her eyes widen with worry, but I really want to take her here. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were ready, Sam. Trust me?”

“I do, and yes, I’d like to try that.” I swoop in to steal a kiss because my whole body is aching for more, and the way her lips part when she exhales a sweet breath are an invitation I can’t deny myself. I secure the tie around her waist and loop the rope through that and the three-point pulley that distributes the weight at her chest, her hips, and eventually her thighs once I have finished tying them. I pull her so she is floating at my waist height. Her head drops back, and she closes her eyes. I hold her close to stop her swinging and start to bind her lower legs to her thighs.

By the time I have finished with each leg, she is completely out of it. I know she’s okay. I have checked repeatedly, and the soft smile on her face is all the evidence I need to know she is somewhere between earth and deep subspace. She looks absolutely amazing. Suspended horizontally with her legs wide, secured, bent and bound. She couldn’t be more vulnerable, and I am fucking blown away that this strong, captivating woman gives herself to me like this, that she belongs to me. If she would just wear my damn collar, I would die a happy man but that’s for another day. Now, I will just bask in the image before me for a moment longer before I start the equally important and possibly even more sensual untying and release.

I loosen her hair and drag my fingers through the long silken strands, pulling and massaging her scalp. Her hair hangs almost to the floor, and she rocks gently with just the depth of her breathing moving her suspended body. She lets out little sweet moans every time my fingers skim her body. Although in an almost dream state, her senses are highly reactive and sensitive to my touch. She glows and glistens, alive and on fire, tiny hairs dance over her skin in waves. I trace my fingers along her body, along the ropes that bind her. Her skin is so damn soft. The rope presses hard with a suspension, and I know there will be an array of indents and ridges. But no burns, no pain or soreness from being bound tight. Just a euphoric feeling of release as I untie each knot.

I carefully lower her to the floor and thread the ropes to loosen her legs, her thighs, and the ropes that thread between her legs. I help her into a seated position cradled between my legs as I kneel. She lets out a deep sigh, her lips form a lazy smile, and she meets my gaze with eyes that are dazed and glazed with moisture. I hold her for a moment, stroking her hair and kissing her head as she starts to draw in some ragged breaths. I tip her chin and kiss her full, soft lips as the first tear falls and the salty wetness coats our joined lips.

I take my time to release the remaining ropes and hold her securely when she crumples with each release. The torso ropes, then the chest and arms, each seem to create a surge inside her, and she visibly trembles but instantly calms in my arms. Fucking perfect.

I hold her wrapped in a cashmere blanket, cradled in my arms. She tips her head to look at me, her brow crinkled with confusion and her eyes pool with too many tears for her lashes to hold. Fat drops fall freely down her cheeks, and she starts to sob. I rock her and pull her even tighter to my body. She pushes her arms free of the blanket and slinks them around my waist, holding on for dear life. I hum a soft tune and kiss her hair. My fingers have carefully traced every indentation created by the ropes when I untied her, and I know there is no damage. But I don’t think that is why she is crying. Her body trembles and I just hold her until she’s ready. Long minutes pass; it could be hours for all I care. She’s in my arms, holding me as much as I’m holding her, and I couldn’t be happier.

After a while longer, she shifts and looks up as I’m looking down. Her cheeks flush with colour but are dry since she stopped crying a while ago. I smile and she flashes a tentative one back at me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I actually want to growl in frustration that she could even think she has a single thing to feel sorry for. Nevertheless, I know she must be feeling raw to have reacted the way she did.

“Hey, beautiful, I can’t imagine what you think you have to apologise for, but I’d rather you didn’t,” I lightly admonish.

“I cried.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“You did, and you were amazing. I am so proud.” She softens at my praise, and her smile spreads a little wider.

“Why did I cry? I enjoyed it.” She seems confused. “I’ve never felt anything like that, and you were pretty amazing yourself.” She rushes her words and praise. I chuckle, and she nestles against my chest. A searing heat penetrates my heart, clenching it tight like a molten vise. It kills me that she doesn’t seem to grasp what she does to me.

“Why, thank you.” I kiss her on her forehead, then her nose, and then her waiting lips. “It was intense, I won’t argue that, but your reaction is not uncommon.” She arches a brow.

“You’ve had women cry like that before?”

“No, not personally, but then I have never practised on someone that I have such a connection with, either. Believe me, that takes this experience to a whole different level.”

“Really?” Her smile would outshine a supernova.

“No fucking comparison, beautiful…no fucking comparison.”

Ican’t explain the emotions coursing through me right now. Warm, euphoric, confused, are a few words that float in my mind, but I know they don’t do the feelings justice. I’m an emotional mess but happy. I’m so fucking happy. Jason holds me. No, that’s not right; he cocoons me in a blanket of himself, like a shield. I feel utterly protected, but more than that, I feel treasured and cherished. He’s told me he loves me. Hell, he tells me all the time and shows me every day with his kindness and thoughtful acts. But this, he seems to have infused every nerve in my body with that feeling.

Intense, fuck yes, that was intense.

He stands, carries me to the door, and places me on unsteady feet before he opens it. We both chuckle at my slight wobble.

“Are you okay to stand? I can carry you if you’d like.” His large hand cups my face, his eyes soft with concern.

---