If Macy had been worried about what Harry might’ve thought of her when she’d tentatively broached the subject of a roleplaying game, he hoped his enthusiastic response more than quelled those fears. He’d understood that ‘virginal’ didn’t mean ‘innocent’ and while she might’ve been a late starter when it came to the physical side of things that didn’t mean that her imagination had endured a similar fate. But fantasies are hard enough to talk about with someone else, let alone enact without absolute confidence and trust in the person confided with and the fact that she’d trusted Harry with her secret desires touched him in such the sweetest way that he’d in turn had no issue in trusting her with his body.
And that’s how he’d found himself tied to a chair in the centre of her room.
He tugged lightly at his hands that were now bound behind his back, tested the give at the ropes that secured his ankles to each leg of the chair. While he was in no way uncomfortable he now had very little movement and was completely at Macy’s mercy. He shivered at the thought, heart was already pounding though they hadn’t even started.
Though he knew the broad strokes of what she wanted to do to him the specifics were still very much to be discovered. She had wanted him clothed but had warned him to pick a shirt he wouldn’t miss, as well as informing him that since her sisters wouldn’t be home he could be as noisy as he liked. He’d swallowed hard when she’d said that, his eyes raking up and down her body that was poured into that wonderful red dress of hers, her feet bare, face free of makeup, hair pulled back … and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She had looked so beautiful it hurt.
Once she’d secured him she brought out the finishing touch. A small scrap of silk that would act as a blindfold.
“Only if you’re sure.”
She’d bitten her lip as she’d said that, the way she usually did when she was trying to get him to agree with her and his gaze was fixed on the movement. He did want to watch her, could never get enough of her … but the mere thought of not being able to tell when and where her next touch could come from … god, that was hot.
“Yeah …” when did his mouth become so dry? He tried again. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
The moment everything went dark he felt ready to crawl out of his skin. Everything else was now in sharp focus, the feel of the rope around his wrists, the suffocation of his clothes, the sounds of Macy’s soft footsteps, her breathing, her scent … he could tell when she came to a stop in front of him, just watching him in his helpless state.
For a few minutes, nothing. Harry tried to control his breathing, tried to keep the heat in his belly on a low simmer. But after a while, and with no indication that anything was about to happen anytime soon, he began to worry that perhaps Macy was beginning to loose her nerve. Or maybe she just didn’t know where to start. Maybe he should begin, help ease her into this.
Harry took a deep breath … then another … he started to pull at his bindings in earnest, really testing their strength in a way that would’ve looked like he was trying to escape, his lips pulled back into a snarl. After a few moments of this he heard Macy move again and snapped his head towards the noise, attempting to ‘see’ through his blindfold.
“Who’s there?” he demanded in much more forceful tones than his situation merited.
He jerked back in genuine surprise as he felt a soft hand come to run through his hair briefly before disappearing again. The chair creaked slightly as Macy put her hands on the back and leaned down to brush her check against his, her hot breath on his ear as she whispered in a low tone, “Your new mistress.”
He pulled back as far as his bonds allowed. “No.”
“Yes.” Her lips passed tantalisingly close to his without touching while one hand moved to the nap of his neck, twining and pulling at the short hairs and oh god Macy, you know what that does to me. “You’re caught in my web now, little fly, and you’re mine to do whatever I want to.”
Hokey words shouldn’t have shot straight to his cock like that but this was Macy saying those things, saying them while he was helpless and withering beneath her — and she’d barely even touched him yet.
“I do wonder what sort of pretty noises I can wring out of you,” she purred, a hand cupping his chin, her thumb running along his bottom lip, tugging it downward ever so slightly so her nail tapped against his teeth. Harry’s tongue sneaked out to lath against the pad, pulling the digit further into the warmth of his mouth, Macy’s small, wanton intake of breath only serving to make him harder.
For a few moments she allowed this before pulling it free with a wet pop and an exasperated, “Seriously Harry, you’re supposed to at least pretend like this is a difficult choice.”
“No. Wait, please, stop,” he deadpanned, barely able to hold back a smirk. He’d had no idea just how excited he’d end up feeling about this game and in all honestly stopping would be the only thing that could rise genuine fear within him at that moment.
But his mirth was cut short when he suddenly felt the sharp tip of a blade against the soft skin under his chin, pressing in a way that forced his head back and kept his jaw locked. Another thrill shot through his body (when did she get a knife? and why did he find it such a turn on?) and he breathed heavily through his nose as Macy simply held him in this somewhat uncomfortable position for a few moments.
“What?” Her voice was back to that low timbre. “Nothing clever to say?”
Harry ground his teeth. He didn’t know what exactly this demon wanted from him, but she wasn’t going to get it. After an almost intolerable time Macy flicked the blade lightly away, letting his head drop and allowing him to take deep breaths through parted lips. Macy shifted, stalking slowly around so that she was now standing behind him before she grabbed a fistful of his head and yanked his head to one side, exposing the side of his neck to her ministrations as she licked a hot path along his skin, nipping at his earlobe. He hissed and squirmed, but she held him fast.
“You could start with ‘No, mistress’.”
“No …” he ground out.
Her sharp little teeth sinking into the taught tendon along his neck caused him to yelp and his cock to swell to a now uncomfortable size, still trapped in his pants.
“Ask and you shall receive,” she said a little breathlessly and he could hear the smile in her voice. “And you will be asking me … begging me to take you, to fuck you, to use you like my own personal toy until I’m board … and you’ll thank me for the privilege.”
Harry was panting. “Must … must be hard to be so delusional.”
She gave a little hum, then her hand was between his legs. He gave a short shout before his teeth clicked shut … she wanted him to make noises and he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. But as she palmed his cock almost roughly through the thin fabric of his trousers, her other hand fisted in his hair, he couldn’t help the small whine that got caught in his throat.
“Not as hard as this.”
Her voice still sounded so in control while Harry felt like he was moments away from breaking character and begging her to ride him, but she had asked him to hold out as long as he could. In his mind’s eye he could see himself, debauched, wanton his hips jerking upwards into her unrefined touch. Then she was gone and he was left suddenly cold and bereft, gasping, painfully aware of the wet stain that was now leaking through the fabric for all the world to see. He tried to shamefully pull his knees together and was of course impeded by the bindings, left feeling a strange kind of exposed, humiliated and horny.
Without warning Macy jumped into his lap, sitting sideways on his legs, her ass grounding infuriatingly down on his cock but her weight preventing much movement on his end although he tried his best, groaning and shifting beneath her in a way that made her giggle. She had one arm wrapped around his shoulders as she leaned in and kissed him gently on his brow before moving to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth.
“Tell me you want me,” she whispered between kisses. “Tell me you want nothing more than to please me and I’ll make all your dreams come true.”
“Ngh …” Language was difficult at this point. “I … shit, ah! Fuck … no! No … no …” Biggest lie he ever told, but he knew he could hold out a little longer.
“Aww,” whined Macy and he could hear the spoilt pout in her tone. His heart-rate spiked as he again felt the bite of the knife at his neck, trailing down with just enough pressure to leave a raised red line before it rested at the hollow of his throat. “Well, I guess a little more playtime couldn’t hurt … much.”
With the knife so close he lost even the small freedom of wriggling around in search of any sort of release and so held painfully still as she slowly guided the blade until it came to the first button on his shirt, the very tip cutting away the attachment with ease. “You know … you’re very pretty,” she said conversationally and he let his head drop back with a frustrated groan. He knew what he looked like to others and ‘pretty' had been an insult that had been used against him since literally before he could remember. He hated it and she knew that, but somehow, coming from her sweet lips … being called pretty … later I’m going to have a bit of a think as to why all this makes me feel so fucking good.
She continued. “A pretty little thing, all neatly wrapped up …” another button flew away, his shirt falling open. “I know so many others who’d simply rip you to shreds and be done with it … but I think, with you …” another button. “I’d like to take my time.”
She then let the very tip of the knife start to trace patterns across his bared chest, having the curious effect of scratching and tickling at the same time before she came to his nipple and started to slowly circle around it. He was trembling uncontrollably now as the nub tightened and when she flicked the blade against it he cried out, feeling unbearably hot and wracked with shivers at the same time.
“Oh … sorry baby. Was that a bit much? Here, let me …” Then her tongue was there, soothing the hurt as she licked and nibbled her way up his chest, stopping to pay special attention to that sweet spot on his neck as she continued to run the knife, now held flat like a cut-throat, downwards, pausing to abuse his other nipple before travelling lower, tickling, scratching at his ribs. All while he was now painfully hard.
“Please, please … oh, god!” He wasn’t sure when he started babbling.
She pulled back from her ministrations, leaving wet patches to cool in the air. “I know.” She sounded breathless. “I need … hmm, I need …” She swung herself around so she now straddled him, making him groan and shudder and almost weep at how her hips held him as she slowly began to grind against his poor, neglected cock. She took his face between her hands, one thumb snaking back into his panting mouth, the knife still in her other. “Seeing you like this … so wrecked, so beautiful … fuck Harry, I’m so wet for you …” He gave a strangled moan. God, I'm going to cum from her voice alone. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t …” Her breath hitched as the pressure within her grew. “I promised I wouldn’t. Not until you said what I needed to hear.”
At this point he wasn’t above begging.
“Please, please … mistress. Fuck, mistress, please … take me, use me however you want, I’ll do anything you want — fucking hell — I’ll be yours, forever, in any way you’ll have me just, please … please …”
The knife clattered to the floor, her lips crashed down upon his, stealing what precious little oxygen he had been able to get, making him dizzy as she plundered his mouth and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her but he couldn’t …
She finally pulled back, allowing him to catch his breath as she in turn gasped, “Fuck me … that’s hot.”
Macy raised herself off him for a moment and he was almost ashamed at the high, needy whine that escaped him at the loss of her heat before all rational thought was blasted from his mind by her hands making quick work of the front of his trousers, allowing his cock to spring free in a way that would’ve embarrassed him if he wasn’t so desperate. Her hand was on him and he was noisy now, gasping and moaning as she slowly ran her thumb over his weeping head before pumping down once, twice …
“Macy!” He gasped her name like a prayer. “I-I’m not going to last much longer if you —”
She hummed and the position of her hand changed, the wonderful weight of her returning as she guided him to her and slowly, slowly sank down on his length, the two of them groaning in unison as she took her time taking every last inch of him. For a moment all the did was feel each other, her hands back at his face, her lips dipping to scatter butterfly kisses across his face as she once against started to roll her hips against his, completely controlling the pace and rhythm as Harry’s hands clenched and re-clenched into fists, sweat itching as it rolled down his back. He felt like he was about to burst out of his skin while she seemed intent on taking her time and there was nothing he could do expect literally sit back and go steadily more insane with every tiny gasp and moan and whine would drop from her kiss-swollen lips.
“Hold on Harry.” Her voice was now as reedy and strained as his as she focused purely on her own pleasure. One hand fell away and he felt it between their bodies as she began to work her clit, her breath hitching and hissing between clenched teeth as she worked herself to orgasm and Harry hated the blindfold because he could hear it and feel it but he couldn’t watch … her walls tightened around him, his own pained groan mixing with her high pitched gasp that was followed by a long exhalation as her movement slowed momentarily — then her hips gave a sudden snap that made him cry out as she began to ride him in earnest.
Those sweet little sounds of hers dissolved into panting gasps as she chased her second high, her fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders as her lips hovered over his, brushing lightly every now and then as they swallowed each other’s moans. He could feel her walls fluttering and the tightness that warned him he was nearly there when, in a flash of lust he managed to gasp out;
“Macy! Please … mark me. Make me yours … mistress.”
There was a moment’s hesitation — then Macy sank her teeth deep into his shoulder, vampire style, hard enough to bruise. The pain shooting through him was the straw that broke the camel’s back as he came with a shout, white lights bursting behind his eyes, ringing erupting in his ears. A few moment later he heard Macy moaning, her teeth still in his flesh, as she continued to ride out her second orgasm even as Harry groaned and hissed beneath her.
Then there was nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing.
Macy was draped across him, clinging to him as her head was hanging over his shoulder, panting through her comedown as he softly nuzzled into her neck, kissing lightly at whatever skin he could find. Then she straightened and kissed him, long and slow, before carefully removing the blindfold. Harry blinked a few times as his eyes readjusted to the thankfully low light, Macy’s beautiful face swimming into focus above him. She looked utterly fucked-out but her lazy post-coital glow was dimmed somewhat by the concern in her eyes.
“Are you okay, Harry?”
He gave a puff of laughter. “Literally … never better.”
She made quick work of untying the ropes and undressing him — he was so far gone he could’ve fallen asleep fully clothed and only half regretted it — and gave him a wet towel before she ducked off to the bathroom. Harry quickly cleaned himself before flopping facedown on Macy’s luxurious bed, fighting the almost irresistible urge to slide into unconsciousness. He rolled onto his back and grimaced at the small twinge in his shoulders, raising his hands to inspect the damage on his wrists. Little bit of rope-burn, little bit of bruising. He must’ve been pulling harder than he thought. The idea that he'd be wearing her marks under his clothes for the following days almost ignited that burnt out heat within him again.
“Does it hurt?”
Macy was standing in the door, naked, her hair now free and hanging around her shoulders. Harry smiled and opened his arms in a ‘come here, you’ gesture that Macy swiftly fell into, curling up at his side and seizing one of his hands to see the damage. She began to carefully massage away some of the tension left behind.
“A little,” he admitted. His smile turned wicked. “I liked it.”
“I noticed.” She gingerly traced the indentations left by her teeth in his shoulder. “What made you ask me to do that?”
“Not sure. Just felt right at the time. How did you feel?”
She sighed. “I kept swinging between being super nervous and super into it … and then being worried that I was so into it I was overstepping our boundaries. I wanted to dominate, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“And you didn’t. Well,” he amended, pulling away from her loving care to tuck them both under the sheets, “Maybe a bit. But I didn’t say ‘peaches’, did I?”
She snuggled close to him, one finger still lightly dancing underneath her ‘mark’. “So … you liked it?”
“I liked it. Very much.”
“So … would you be interested in … other things?”
He kissed her. “Anything for you, mistress.”