Bound Obedience (Dark Possessions Book 1) (2 page)

Had he told her his name? She was so close, so soft...he didn’t care.

Power, she was promising him. Power over Amy. Her hand slid along his bulge. His mind barely noticed it, though of course his body did. He was just staring at those ropes, imagining Amy in them. Helpless to do anything except obey his will. Needing his say-so to be let out, to be free.

Constraining Amy. Containing her. Making her his and his alone. She would never be able to say no to him again. She would never say anything to him except “Please” and “Thank you” and an endless string of happy, angelically-crafted compliments. The thoughts ran over his mind without even beckoning them—it was like they belonged on his mind, like he deserved that kind of thinking.

Fuck fuck oh fuck.

“You deserve whatever you want for working so very hard,” Yasmin purred. “Won’t you take them? Take the ropes? Please?”

Her tits were so heavy and full against his chest. Her hands nimbly unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from the futile restraints they posed. There was nothing that could get in the way of this woman’s desires, he knew suddenly. She would have her way. And she would give him incredible pleasure as she did so. Darkness gathered up around the two of them. It was impossible to see anything except for the shelf and her.

Her lips brushed against his ear, breathing warmly. Everything about her was so warm—almost otherworldly so, as if she was from a completely different dimension. A dimension, perhaps, based entirely on sex, loving, fucking, and hot bondage games where everyone belonged to someone else.

Sprouting forward, his cock slipped inside her open hand.

“Oh yes,” her voice so soft and breathy. “Yes, that’s right. Pay me for my goods.”

“P-pay?” he asked softly, her hand so incredibly smooth.

Struggling to mend his reality with his completely shattered expectations, he remembered suddenly how his wallet was in his car.

“I...my money. Outside.”

“Don’t be silly. Money from a stud like you? No. I need only one payment.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Give it to me, stud. Give me your gift. Pay me. Please?”

Her other hand waved through the air. Little blue light trails followed her fingers. Suddenly, on the top of the shelf with all the boxes was a tall mirror. He could watch her as much as he wanted—see how completely hot she was.

“Look into the mirror. Watch my face, my breasts. Watch my excitement. This is what a woman should be for you.”

Shadows began to merge and meld in the darkness of the mirror. Behind Yasmin’s gorgeous reflection, the shelves of the store distended and morphed into a picture of Amy. The ropes from the box wrapped around her hands, and then framed around her tits.

He could see her clearly, her styled blond hair looking deliciously sexy around her young, happy face. She was mouthing his name, moaning it, needing him. He could very nearly make out her voice.

Yasmin’s voice was soft and pressing as she stroked his hot, hard cock. Her tits bouncing against his arm. Everything about her was so warm and good.

“This is what you deserve, for being what you so clearly are. For being a hunk, a stud, an ace. You need women like this, serving you like this, at all times. This is your reward for gifting us with your existence. Cum, my sweet stud. Cum for me and let me give you my perfect ropes!”

Staring at Yasmin’s bouncing tits in the mirror, at Amy silently calling out for him, David could not help but cum. He sprayed some directly into her hand, all the cum somehow landing there. She licked it all up right as he watched, treating it like it was holy ambrosia. Her eyes—beautiful emerald eyes—seemed to get only greener as he watched her.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the lights of the store were no longer quite as dimmed, and the mirror on the shelf was gone. He could not even say for certain that it had ever really been there.

“Thank you, Sir,” she purred, closing the box and sliding it in his hands. “Get used to hearing that, holding those ropes. ‘Thank you, Sir.’ She will not be able to stop herself from saying it. She should say it. You deserve to hear it”

Still speechless, David stumbled out of the store, nodding and waving at the gorgeous store owner, not even remembering to zip his pants back up until he was outside.

* * * * *

S
itting alone in the coffee shop, Amy sighed, getting off the phone with Hank, the boy she was seeing later that night for a free dinner and hopefully some good old fashioned making out.

She didn’t like Hank that much, but he was super cute and a jock at the local university and it was a lot of fun to rope guys into giving her whatever she wanted when she needed it.

She was an incredibly cute babe, and she knew it. It was okay that she was a little shorter than most other girls—she made up for it with a startlingly pretty face with big blue eyes and soft, precious lips and a dynamite body carved from years of working on cardio machines. Her tits were her pride and joy—they had netted her more jobs, more free clothes, and more admirers than she could even really handle.

She tried to get more and more anyway, of course. Where was the fun in being a pretty girl if you weren’t going to milk every idiot you came across for all he was worth? If they wanted to give her things for something she was born with, she was more than fine with it.

A barista came by, asking her if she needed anything, practically panting on her. For the third time, she said no.

Amy had tried to dress a little conservatively for the meeting. She had on a denim miniskirt and fun pink platform sandals, a plain white short-sleeved sweater doing little to hide the substantial curve of her cloth-stretching cleavage. Fun hoop earrings dangled from her ears. With her body, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do to dress stylish and conservatively at the same time.

Where was David? Already, he was five minutes late. She was going to give it another two before storming out. Nobody stood her up.

This coffee meet-up had been giving her anxious pits in her stomach ever since David had asked for it, and double that ever since she had accepted.

David was just some skinny goof who she had worked with for two weeks at the laser tag center in the county before she had quit the job, having used up all the fun from working in such a place. Somehow, he had gotten her number, and texted her incessantly. He was nice enough, she supposed, but she knew he was hopelessly in love with her.

She knew this largely because of the text he sent her a week or so before at 3 AM, reading: “Fuck, Amy, I am so helplessly in love with you.”

She believed him, of course.

Of course he was in love her—lots of guys were. She knew her beauty, while not phenomenal, was of the exact kind that drove guys nuts because she was hot enough to be desired, but not so hot that she was intimidating. She had that kind of “girlfriend” level of hotness that made some actresses so appealing to the male demographic. A gift and a curse...though obviously, Amy felt it was more of a gift. She loved her body—loved the way her jaw was clearly defined, loved the way her tits were so naturally bouncy and firm (and probably always would be, judging from her mother), loved the lovely turn of her legs. Beauty was power in this world, and she had it.

She knew that, and her BFF Catalina knew it too. Catalina was getting married in a month or so to someone purely for power and cash—Amy was, of course, the maid of honor. She and Catalina saw eye-to-eye on everything—how their beauty made them privileged and better than other people, how guys were just suckers who deserved to have their stuff taken away from them, and of course, on David.

Poor, sad, lovably loserish David.

So she had agreed to this meeting only on the terms that this would be their very last meeting, ever. That after this, she had complete power to shut him down and push him out of her life. She already had a speech planned. It ran in her head, over and over, as she waited out the clock:

“David, I think you’re a nice guy and everything, I guess? But really, you are just completely not my type. In this town? I’m practically a goddess. I deserve a guy who is rich, devastatingly handsome, and able to give me
everything
my heart desires. And you just aren’t, well, any of those things.”

It would be cruel, but she had to be cruel. He wouldn’t get the message if she was nice. Or at least, he hadn’t so far gotten the message when she had been nice in the past. The coffee shop door dinged, and in came David’s shambly dressed form. He wore a thin red hoodie, his rail-like frame barely supporting the skinny jeans hanging loosely around his waist.

Oh god.

He had a present with him.

It was wrapped in a purple box with a red bow. It was about the size of a jewelry box, maybe a little larger. She hoped to god it wasn’t jewelry. She would take it, of course, and wear it if it were pretty, but some part of her would always feel a little naughty, knowing she had gotten it through breaking a boy’s heart. But odds were, with the way David dressed himself, that it would be as ugly as sin. She could just resell it on eBay or something, or have some guy do it for her. It was a game she knew pretty well, after years of having terrible jewelry gifted to her. Why was the taste of men so awful all the time?

He sat down, smiling broadly. He looked distracted, like coming to see her was almost an afterthought. Not a great start.

“Hi Amy!” he said happily. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

She twisted her mouth a bit. “Yeah. It’s um...neat.”

He sat down, putting the box on the table, looking expectantly at her, like he wanted her to ask about it. She refused to indulge him. His hands tapped on the box arhythmically.

“This is six months to the day since we first met. Did you know that?”

Oh, yikes. Who
remembered
stuff like that?

She shook her head.

“I hadn’t thought of that, nope. But it’s um...real swell that you remembered.”

“Yeah! I even got you a present. I just picked it up. ” He patted the box in front of him. “That’s what this is.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Duh, David.

“Why don’t you open it? I know you’re going to love it, Amy.”

His foot moved forward under the table. She could feel him slithering around under there, trying to find her leg.

Oh, gross.

Her feet shuffled into the corner as she leaned forward and opened up the box, sighing a little. No matter what it was, she had resolved to be rather unimpressed.

Inside was...rope?

“What’s this?”

“It’s my gift,” he said. “For you. It’s a good gift.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “A good gift for a young woman who wants to experiment with her sexuality.”

“Uh,” said Amy, “what?”

Did David—nerd extraordinaire and big skinny loser—honestly give her
fetish ropes
as a gift for some weird made-up anniversary that only he knew about?

Oh god. She covered her mouth, trying to hide the overwhelming disgust and humor she found in the situation.

What a hopeless creep!

And experiment with her sexuality? What kind of slut did he think she was, anyway? Amy wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t exactly experienced enough to start experimenting. She got plenty of what she wanted without having much cock in her at all. Having an orgasm because of a cock inside of her would be an experiment.

“David...did you really think these were a good idea?”

She pointed down at the ropes, her fingertip touching them. A little bit of electricity ran through her body. Static shock, maybe.

“Well sure I did. I thought any guy would be giving you flowers or jewelry or whatever...I wanted to be more direct.”

“And you...directly want to tie me up, David?”

He put a hand around his neck, rubbing there. Some embarrassment finally seemed to find him.

“Come on! These ropes, they’re antique. I thought you would find it...you know. Cute. And sexy.”

“David...”

“What? It’s something fun. A good fit for a girlfriend’s gift.”

The words sounded repeated, orchestrated somehow. Like they were being channeled into his mind. It should have creeped her out a lot more than it did. In fact, this whole conversation should have been done already...but for some reason she stayed, her fingers stroking the violet ropes. They were...warm. It felt like stroking a nice day. No reason to stop now.

Still, though, she had to be firm with David.

“David, I am
not
your girlfriend. I don’t
want
to be your girlfriend. And I am
not
going to use these, or let someone use them on me.”

He looked lost.

“You...you kissed me, though!”

She sighed. She was afraid he was going to bring that up.

“Look, I was really drunk, okay? And it was barely on your lips. I was aiming for your cheek. You were nice to drive me home that night, but that’s all. I don’t want to be your...your ropeslut, or whatever.”

Ropeslut? How had that word entered her vocabulary all of a sudden?

It was a pretty cool word.

Maybe she didn’t want to be
his
ropeslut, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be
a
ropeslut.

Ropeslut ropeslut ropeslut.

Yes...she liked that word a whole lot. It was exciting just imagining getting tied up and fucked
really
hard...

“Aw, babe. It’s not like that. I just thought this would be fun. Come on.”

Under the table, his feet found hers. Without thinking, she slid her leg across his. It was beyond a flirtatious gesture—it was openly sexual. Her whole body felt warm.

Fun, yeah. Ropes could be fun. Her whole hand was inside of the box now, the ropes tangling around her wrists and fingers.

“I just know you’d love it, Amy. We could make it really fun if you wanted.”

She wasn’t looking at him at all anymore, just the hot, perfect tangles of the rope wrapping around her skin.

“I would love it,” she said softly. “It’d be so fun if I wanted.”

She could hear David’s breathing increase. Her big, bright blue eyes turned up to look at him. She had no idea why she was so aroused, but she really, really liked it. Soft droplets slid through the folds of her pussy. Her leg slid up his a little bit more.