Kinky Boots(26)

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

She nodded, swallowing the panic back down against the hammering of her heart that seemed to fill the whole inside of her from the space where her brain was supposed to be all the way down to her trussed up pussy.

‘Then you have to relax,’ he said. ‘Breathe slowly and deeply. And trust me. Can you do that?’

She glanced at Finn who gave the tiniest nod of his head, and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nodded her consent.

‘Good girl,’ Meinrad whispered. Then he untied her wrists with a single slip of a knot. She barely had time to feel the rope slide away before Finn joined Meinrad. Each man took one of her arms and bound it to the brasswork of the headboard. They began their efforts just below her arm pits and worked their way down to her wrists, the ropes like two snakes coiling away from her. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through, until at last her arms were as spread and as open as her legs, bound across the headboard as though she were about to be crucified.

She closed her eyes, fighting back panic again, fighting back tears, fighting back an avalanche of emotions she hadn’t expected. She had let two men she barely knew bind her until she was totally helpless. They said they’d release her. They said all she had to do was ask. So why the hell wouldn’t she ask? What kind of people enjoyed tying up an innocent woman? What kind of neurotic nutter would willingly let herself be tied up, even ask for it? As she struggled to breathe, the tears came unbidden. She couldn’t wipe them away. She couldn’t hide them. She was powerless, and being naked was nothing compared to whatever else was laid bare, whatever it was that made her weep like a stupid child. There was no sign of Eleanor, who’d promised her she’d never be a prisoner as long as she resided inside her. Well, how much more of a prisoner could she be? And how could it be that somewhere in the mix of panic and anger and frustration and fear, and so many other feelings she couldn’t sort out, her body still buzzed with arousal?

‘Shshsh!’

Her eyes fluttered open just as Finn planted a kiss on her lips. ‘It’s all right, Jill. You’re all right.’ He motioned to Meinrad who brought him a mirror that reminded Jill of the kind used at hairdressers.

‘Leave us,’ Finn said without looking away from her. Meinrad turned silently and left the room.

‘Look at you,’ Finn said, holding the mirror first to her tear-streaked face, then to the incredible bulge of her breasts and nipples, which he cupped and caressed. He placed a kiss upon each one before he moved the mirror down between her legs. ‘Look how beautiful you are.’ With the hand not holding the mirror he pressed gently on the knot resting against her clit and she whimpered and jerked against her bonds. Then he moved a finger with a feather touch down where she was pressed between the two strands of rope. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into her restrained cleft, and the sound that came from her throat was primal, angry, full of need.

But Finn kept stroking and probing. She could feel herself slickening and swelling around his fingers, and she struggled to move against him to get the stimulation she needed. But the shifting of her hips only tightened the knots against her. She could see all of it, every press and grind and quiver, in the mirror Finn held between her legs. Before she could struggle further, he lay the mirror aside and placed a restraining hand on the flat of her belly. ‘Hold still, Jill. Just hold still and let me do it.’ Still probing and scissoring her slit with two fingers, he opened his fly, and she watched as he manoeuvred his arching erection free.

‘I’m going to fuck you now, Jill, because I’ve waited long enough. And you’re going to hold still while I do it, while I make you come. Then I’m going to fill your little trussed-up pussy until you can’t hold any more because that’s how full I am for you.’ He pulled off his jeans and positioned himself between her bound legs, where he lifted and manoeuvred her until she was practically on his lap, while she held her breath in anticipation. God, he couldn’t possibly need it more than she did.

At last he rose up onto his haunches and pushed into her, until she supported all of her weight on her bound arms and on his body. The grimace on his face, the growl in his throat, the way he caught his breath could have been little different if he had just been run through with a knife. The fit of him inside her, which was always tight, was made still tighter by the bind of the ropes. The pressure his body exerted drove the knots into her clit and her backside in an exquisite cocktail of pain and pleasure and simulation of raw nerve endings that she had never experienced before and wasn’t sure she would survive to experience again. How could anything be so uncomfortable and so exquisite at the same time?