TIED AND TWISTED

Jodie Griffin

Tied up, twisted, teased and tormented.

As I watched Mason work, I kept hearing those words in my head. My Master’s words, ones he’d whispered in my ear countless times over the past couple of weeks until I couldn’t think of anything but him and what he had planned for me. Fucking with my mind while he tortured my body was one of his favorite games.

A few weeks ago, he’d pulled me close, a sexy glint in his eye. As a car pulled into our driveway, he told me he’d planned an adults-only weekend away for us. While footsteps echoed up the flagstone walk, he told me it was, specifically, a weekend of bondage. As the doorbell rang, he whispered his sadistic plans in my ear. I greeted our guests with a red face, hard nipples and soaking wet panties.

The last two weeks had been one elaborate, drawn-out mind-fuck of a scene that included a week—an entire damn week—of orgasm denial. For me, not for him, and by the time this weekend rolled around I was ready to kill someone.

We’d arrived late yesterday. Kink Kamp ran from Friday night through Sunday at a gated, private campground—one that happened to be the same place where our son went for scout camp during the summer, which was hysterical, but I was trying not to think about that.

Not that you’d ever know it was the same place, looking around the wooded area now. I was on my knees after having been stripped naked by my Master, waiting silently on a quilt at his feet. Around us, there were other blankets, other people in various states of dress and undress, and more rope. Lots and lots of rope, in every color of the rainbow.

There were portable Saint Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, even a metal jungle gym-type setup with hanging hard-points. And there were huge trees with super-thick branches, strong enough to hold a suspended person.

Mason had just finished securing a suspension ring to one of the really heavy branches, and we were waiting for a camp monitor to come inspect it. Part of the rules of the weekend included safety inspections before any suspensions, but I trusted Mason with my life and I knew it was safe even without one. Right now, he was hanging from it himself, and if it could hold him, it would hold me.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. His T-shirt was snug against his chest, the muscles of his arms standing out sharply. His jeans rode low on his hips, and he had a day’s worth of beard on his face. He looked dark and dangerous and sexy as hell. I was used to seeing him in suit and tie, which really worked for me, but I loved this side of him too.

“You ready, Addie-mine?”

“Yes, Master. Please.” I couldn’t keep the begging tone out of my voice. I was ready. Just past noon on Saturday and Mason still hadn’t let me come. He’d fucked my mouth last night out under the stars, come down my throat and aroused me until I’d wanted to cry. Had cried, utter frustration winding me tighter and tighter. Then he’d whispered those damned words in my ear again—tied up, twisted, teased and tormented—stroking me until my body settled as much as it was going to, and held me close all night while we slept.

This afternoon, the noises around us in the scene areas were intoxicating. We rarely played anywhere but at home, and I’d almost forgotten how other people’s play could drive my own arousal up. The sounds of slapping hands and toys against flesh. Moans. Grunts. Fucking. It all spiked my need higher, and I was ready for whatever Mason had in mind. More than ready.

Desperate.

He dropped from the ring, gave it one more yank and let it go, turning his attention fully back to me.

Seared by his hot gaze, I had to bite back a needy sound. Mason just grinned, the sadist.

I loved him for that.

His toy bag was beside me, and he reached in and drew out several long, carefully coiled lengths of rope, laying them on one of those camp chairs beside me. He hooked his finger into the O-ring on my play collar, and drew me to my feet.

I shivered. I’m a rope slut. I love the way it makes me feel confined but safe, trapped but free. My brain works at top speed all the time, the hamster on the wheel constantly running. Eighty million things all at once, every fear I’ve ever had about our son and our jobs and our life and our marriage, all tied up and twisted together. Mason knows that about me, so maybe he’d chosen those specific words for a reason. Tied up, twisted, teased and tormented.

Mason also knows something incredible happens when he binds me with rope. I go elsewhere in my mind, somewhere calm and quiet, the running hamster sound asleep for that all-too-brief period of time. The first time it happened was a revelation. The second time, I was shocked. The third time, I sobbed, scaring the hell out of my husband.

Ropespace. I love it, and Mason knows it.

“Here we go, love. Lift your arms.” Mason’s low words were murmured. There’s not much talking when he’s working his magic. He lets me zone out, his touches sure but gentle, his hands directing me where he needs me to go. He began wrapping rope around my body in a harness—my shoulders, my chest, my waist, my hips—and I swayed along with his movements, my eyes closed.

“Fucking beautiful.” His words came from behind me and landed in my ear. I smiled, in my happy place. Then he pinched my nipple and bit my neck and I shivered, leaning back against him. His hands continued to touch me, adjusting rope, teasing skin.

I heard him say thank you—to the safety monitor, I guessed—and then he maneuvered me a few steps forward. I still had my eyes closed, but I felt him attach my harness to the suspension ring, then a bunch of tugging as he shifted me horizontal, my feet coming off the ground. He pulled harder and lifted me higher, then tied the ropes off.

I was faceup, floating on air. I let my head drop back and my arms fly to my sides, my bones and muscles shifting to settle within their rope bonds. I gasped as part of the harness, ropes that ran between my legs, came to rest in the crack of my ass. The knot Mason had tied in them was at exactly the right spot to press against the fat plug he’d teased and tortured into my ass this morning.

It felt so damn good to be outside, naked, swinging from a tree in a very adult, very kinky twist on a favorite pastime. September was the perfect time for this. It wasn’t too hot out, and most of the mosquitoes were gone. The sun was warm on my body, as a light breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees.

Mason bent my leg and wrapped rope around my thigh and calf, binding them together. Apparently I wasn’t going to be allowed to simply fly free today. My muscles screamed for a moment, but when he finished the tie, they relaxed. He moved to the other leg, doing the same. This time, though, he tied it off to the ring, so one bent leg was up, while the other was hanging down, not suspended by anything but gravity. Air blew against my core, making me shiver, and then I realized it was Mason, not a warm late-summer breeze. He licked me until I thought I’d lose my mind, twisted the butt plug and then, when I groaned, bit the inside of my thigh.

His hands coasted over my skin, between my legs, inside my body, touching me as though he had every right to—and he did. I’d given him that right the day I’d accepted his collar, and again when we’d said our wedding vows. I loved it, more than I’d ever be able to describe to anyone. Mere words couldn’t measure what being dominated by my Master did for me.

The bite of the rope and the scratch of his skin melded into one long stream of sensation, but he still wasn’t done. Again he worked silently, allowing me time to bask in the quiet in my head. He cuffed my wrists together behind me with more rope, then tied them to the leg that was hanging free.

I heard murmurs around me but they were just white noise. I was focused on the touch of Mason’s hands. I let out a gasp when his mouth sucked hard at my nipple. He clamped one and I groaned. He laughed and did the other, then tied them off to the suspension ring, tugging at the clamps, causing a delicious ache between my thighs. I made some noises but couldn’t form any words to beg him to stop—or do it harder.

I’m not sure how long Mason let me drift there, but it was long enough for my mind to empty of clutter. It was a gift of time from my Master, the one man who knew every chaotic inch of my heart, body, mind and soul.

I felt free and safe and loved.

Soon other things began to filter in, though I was still floating in ropespace. Mason’s hands supporting my head, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “Open, baby,” he murmured in his deep, deep voice. I did, and he pushed his cock inside, gliding against my tongue. I licked him and sucked, but a flick of the rope attached to the nipple clamp had me moaning.

He bent over me, whispering in my ear in a singsong way. “Mason’s got Addie strung up from a tree, they’re f-u-c-k-i-n-g.” On each letter, he took the opportunity to withdraw and plunge deep, pushing into my throat. I was at exactly the right angle to ease his way, and each time he pressed into me it jiggled the nipple clamps, making me gasp around his erection.

Need unfurled inside me, drawing me out of ropespace and back into the moment. I peeled my eyes open, blinking at the bright sun beaming through the leaves of the tree above me. “Please, Master! I need to come. Oh, please.”

“Not quite yet, my sweet little slut.” He kissed me, then nipped my chin. “I asked Master Silas to join us for this part, and you’re going to let him hold you if you need it. Got it?”

“Yes, Master.” Silas was Mason’s mentor and he’d assisted in scenes before when Mason needed another set of hands for my safety. I trusted him and, more importantly, Mason trusted him with me. I belong to my Master, and no one fucks me but him. Silas would never cross that line, but that didn’t mean Mason didn’t like seeing and I didn’t enjoy having another man’s hands on me.

Mason let go of my head and it dropped back again. My vision upside down, I saw Master Silas step forward until my eyes were nearly even with his groin. He bent over and looked in my eyes. “Hey there, sweetness.” He grinned and flicked the rope attached to my nipple clamps. I groaned. “A little worked up, are we?”

Another damn sadist. “Yes, Sir.”

He slipped his hands under my head and neck, the same way Mason had. “Too bad he won’t share you this way. I’d love to fuck your mouth in this position while he fucks your pussy. It looked damned hot from where I was watching.”

His voice was rough and his body aroused, but he didn’t make any moves to unzip his pants. Part of me—the still denied part of me—considered begging Mason to allow it, but that was a bridge I wasn’t sure I was comfortable crossing. As it was, my one-track mind and my attention were yanked away from temptation when Mason grabbed my hips and surged into me with one long, hard thrust.

I screamed and arched my back, my head pressing down against Silas’s hands. “Master!”

“Lift her up, Si, before she hurts herself. Feel free to play with her tits.”

Silas maneuvered me so my head was no longer hanging down and my shoulders were leaning against his chest, his hands cupping my breasts. He squeezed them and I gritted my teeth against the shocking pain as Mason thrust into me again.

Silas bit my ear, then whispered into it. “Look at him, Addie. Look at his face. He’s as much yours as you are his. If I tried to fuck your mouth, he’d rip my damn head off. The little one first, and then the big one.”

I started to laugh but Mason fucked into me again and I cried out instead.

Together, they set a rhythm that had me gasping and shaking and panting. Silas would tug at the nipple clamps and Mason would power into me, sending my nerves into overdrive.

“Oh god, I need to come. Please may I come? Please, Master?” My mind was spinning, my body tight with denied release. I hovered on the edge of something amazing, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My eyes filled with tears and spilled over. “Please.”

“Come for me,” Mason ordered, fucking me hard, his fingers gripping my hips so tightly I knew I’d have bruises. Heat and pressure built inside me, but I couldn’t get there, even though he’d told me I could.

I started begging. “Please, please, please, please.”

“Now, Silas,” Mason growled. Silas removed the nipple clamps as Mason fucked me, pinching my clit.

I shrieked at the pain and the pleasure, flying off the precipice into a roiling sea. Mason came with a shout to match mine. Breathing heavily, he held me as close as he could, his head bowed forward.

I felt Silas press a kiss to my temple as he released the ropes keeping me suspended. He helped Mason carry me to the blanket where they set me down on my stomach.

“Thanks, man,” Mason murmured, and with my head turned sideways, I saw Silas leave us alone again.

Carefully, Mason unbound my arms. As they were released I groaned, feeling the ache in them. He rubbed my shoulders and pressed a kiss between them, along my spine. I was still breathing heavily from my release, and slightly sore from the suspension, but I felt languid and loose too. That had been one hell of an orgasm.

He left the harness on but removed the ropes binding my legs, and again, I groaned. His hands felt wonderful as he massaged my legs, his fingers digging into the overstretched muscles. When he finished they were limp noodles. If I had to get up and run, I’d be in big trouble. My heart was a tumble of emotions, my mind still mostly filled with cotton.

Mason stretched out next to me on the quilt and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me, then tucked my head under his chin, pulling a thin blanket over me. “I love you, Addie-mine. You please me very much. Rest now. We’ve got more to do later. So much more.” He murmured nonsense words to me, stroking my skin with gentle hands.

“I love you too.” I closed my eyes, knowing I was safe and protected in my Master’s embrace.