Bound to Accept (13 page)

“
With Tristan?”

I don't respond.

“
Kelly,” she says gently,
“I know you've been in love with this guy, like, forever—and
believe me, I am so,
so
happy for you—but don't let him take advantage of
you. Sometimes people take advantage of someone's affection because
they know that it will lead to sex.”

I don't like this. It's
like Kayla has heard that secret voice inside my head whispering
that this whole situation is too good to be true and the two of
them have been conspiring against me. I wonder what Kayla would be
saying if she knew what Tristan and I have
really
been doing.

No, on second thought, I
know exactly what she'd say:
Kelly, run
the other way.

“
Everything's
fine.”

Is it?

“
Like I said, I've just
been really busy.”

“
Have you two had sex?”
she asks bluntly.

“
What? No!” I'm startled
to answering honestly. Semi-honestly. Not penetrative sex, anyway.
“And even if we did, that's
none
of your business!”

“
One of his ex-girlfriends
is friends with my little sister,” Kelly continues, “and when I
told her you and Tristan were tentatively dating, Rachel told me
some pretty fucked up stories about what her friend did with your
Tristan.”

My breathing stops.
“What?”

“
Don't freak.
Okay?”

Oh, I'm already freaking.

“
She says that Tristan
used to choke her—
strangle
her—until she almost passed out.”

I know this is true, because “breath
control” was one of the items on Tristan's list. I put it as one of
my green no's, by the way. The idea of that terrifies
me.

“
She also said that he
would rub her skin with sandpaper until it was raw for
days
, and stick needles
into her skin. Including her nipples. Her
nipples
, Kelly. Oh my God, I almost
threw up in my mouth.”

I'm feeling a little nauseous
myself.

“
He hasn't tried anything
like that with
you
?”

“
I have to go,” I say
stiffly. I've just gotten a text from Tristan that says,
I'm here.

“
Kelly, please be
careful.”

I hang up on her. Then I go out to
meet Tristan. But like Tristan, Kayla just has to have the last
word.

Guard your
nipples.

“
Hey.” Tristan checks out
my face and immediately realizes that something is wrong. “What's
wrong?”

“
Kayla called.” He knows
Kayla. They were sort of friends in middle school, but inexplicably
drifted apart in high school. I won't pretend I wasn't secretly
glad.

“
How is Kayla?” he says
agreeably.

“
She told me something
interesting.” He glances at me but doesn't appear to realize
anything is up. “She said that her sister is friends with one of
your exes.”

Now he looks wary. “Oh? Which
one?”

“
The one whose nipples you
used as pincushions!”

“
Fuck.” He glances at me
again, looking as if he wants to take me in his arms. But he keeps
his hands on the wheel instead of touching me. “I know who she's
talking about.”

“
So it's true?” I
squawk.

“
Mostly.” His face is grim
as he stares ahead. “I met her at St. Andrew's Cross when I was
twenty-two. She had a reputation. I didn't know that when she asked
me to top for her. Not even when she made some very bizarre
requests for our contract.”

“
What sorts of bizarre
requests?”

“
Some people get off on
pain,” he says tonelessly. “Lots of pain. Sometimes, they want pain
during sex, but just as often, sex has nothing to do with it. It's
about the endorphin rush.”

The body's natural
opiates.”

“
Kayla's sister's friend
is a painslut. She's hooked on her own endorphins, the high that
she gets from pain. She wanted me to stick her with needles, yes.
Which I did, reluctantly, because she begged me, and because she
never, ever said her safeword.”

He closes his eyes briefly when we
pull up at a red light.

“
She also wanted me to
burn her, cut her, put out cigarettes on her skin. One time she
came in with a taser and asked me to use it on her. I refused. It's
illegal to assault someone with a stun gun, and I didn't want to go
to jail. Plus, the effects are so intense, so
concentrated
, within such a limited
span of time, especially on bare skin, that there was no way she
would have been able to change her mind if the pain became too
much.”

“
Holy
shit
,” I say.

“
I ended up reporting her
to the Dungeon Monitor because I was so concerned. She was later
kicked out of St. Andrew's—not for that, necessarily, but because
she had a habit of harassing the Doms who wouldn't give in to her
demands and advances. Stalking them, taunting them, interrupting
their scene. That sort of thing. There were…many
complaints.”

“
I imagine.”

“
I have limits,” he says.
“Long answer to your question is that I'm not overly fond of
edgeplay. I've had some subs in the past who were, and while I
respect that, the experience will not be repeated on my end. Short
answer to your question is that I'm not planning on doing any harm
to you or your breasts.”

“
That's a
relief.”

He parks in his parking space and
quickly walks around the car so he can open my door. “It was wrong
of Kayla to scare you like that,” he says. “I'm glad she looks out
for you, but she shouldn't have dropped a bomb like that without
diffusing it first. That's just cruel.”

“
I think she was freaking
out.”

“
Even so. Participating in
the BDSM scene does not make me some kind of sex criminal—nor you a
victim.”

When he opens the door, the smell of
Thai food assails us. My stomach growls loudly.

When we are inside the
apartment and the door is closed firmly behind us, he adds,
“I
would
like to
try some milder tit torture with you, if you're
willing.”

I'm aware of my nipples tingling
against my bra. “I think I put that as a maybe,” I say
faintly.

“
Do you have the list with
you?”

“
Yes. It's right here.” I
reach into my purse and pull out the typed-up sheets. With all the
ribbons of color, it looks like a preschool art project.

“
Colorful,” Tristan
remarks. He sets the papers beside his plate. He serves me first,
giving me a generous helping of beansprouts and rice noodles, and
in spite of my protests, most of the shrimp.

After he serves himself, he takes a
bite of the noodles and picks up the list. He scans over it
quickly, almost insultingly quickly considering how much time it
took me to highlight. Then he sets it aside.

“
Well,” he says. “That's
surprising.”

A pang shoots through my stomach.
“What is?”

He sucks a wayward noodle into his
mouth. “What changed your mind on the clamps and the floggers? You
were so averse to them at first.”

“
When I researched them…it
said that there were different kinds. Different…levels of pain. And
when you bit me…that felt quite nice, even though it hurt. I
thought that maybe…this might feel good, too.”

I glance up at him, shyly.

“
It can,” he says,
noncommittal. “We can try it. I have several different kinds of
clamps. The clothespin style might be best for you. It's relatively
mild. The flogger is, too. I have a whip, but I bought that for a
sub who actually liked it when I left marks. It might be too
intense for you, though it's there if you change your mind.” He
tilts his head. “You're interested in acting out a rape fantasy
with me?”

I bite my lip. “I don't
know.”

“
Be certain. That one can
be very traumatic. It takes a lot of planning and discussion
beforehand. That might be one to discuss after we actually have
sex.”

He shuffles the papers, and
grins.

“
You're willing to dress
like a schoolgirl for me.”

“
There's a lot of girls
dressed in sailor suits at Fanime Con. Sailor Moon and all that.
They looked cute.”

“
I already have a costume
in mind,” Tristan says, with a wicked grin. “You'll have to give me
your measurements so I can order it. This one comes with an
underbust corset and a matching G-string. I wouldn't call it
cute.”

“
What would you call
it?”

“
I'd call it
pony girl
, and I'd tell
her to bend over.”

He laughs at my expression, and
reaches across the table to stroke my hand. “My sweet little
virgin,” he says. “It's such a pleasure to deflower you, one petal
at a time.” Then he turns back to the papers. “Let's see what your
hard limits are. No anal, no anal play. No clit clamps or genital
torture. No pet play.”

He mock pouts.

“
You mean you don't want
to be my prancing little pony girl? Okay, that's fine. And we
briefly discussed breath control. I didn't realize that was a no.”
He folds the paper up and shoves it in his pocket. “I can work with
this.”

“
You're
not…disappointed?”

Tristan blinks. “About
what?”

“
How many times I said
no.”

“
No, Kelly. I'm not. I'm
proud of you for how many times you said yes. And quite honestly,
considering your limited experience, I'd be very disturbed if you
agreed to everything on this list.”

“
So are we going to…do
something?”

“
Yes,” he says. “I'm going
to take you home.”

What?

“
You're mentally and
emotionally exhausted,” he says. “You researched a lot of things
that pushed the boundaries of what you're willing to take sexually,
and then there was that scare with your friend.” Tristan
frowns.

“
Then why did you bring me
over here?”

“
Because I wanted to see
you.”

“
Oh.”

“
Kelly, I don't have to
want sex from you to want to spend time with you. We had a platonic
relationship for fourteen years. I'd be a major asshole if I threw
that all away just because you were willing to spread your legs for
me.”

He hugs me, and he feels very
warm.

“
That said, I have a whole
slew of things planned for that sexy body of yours on
Wednesday.”

“
Like what?”

“
I'll give you a hint: I'm
going to pick one of your pinks, and one of your
oranges.”

“
What should I
wear?”

“
Those navy shorts you
think are too small on you,” he says. “The ones you claim are
always giving you wedgies. I think they'd be just right without any
underwear.”

He puts my arms around his neck and
his arms around my waist. Then he slowly rocks us back and forth,
like we're dancing in a high school gym or something. It also puts
him in the perfect position to whisper in my ear.

“
I also want to see you
wear that white ribbed tank top. The one you were sleeping in a few
days ago when I came to talk to you about our relationship. I can't
get it out of my head. I want to see it with my necklace—and
nothing else.” He tugs at my shirt collar. “Especially not
underneath.”

I feel panicky. “That top is
completely see-through.”

He rests his chin on my head. His
breath tickles my ear. “I remember,” he sighs.

“
Tristan, please. Don't
make me wear that. Or at least let me change at your apartment or
something. There's so many creepy guys who ride the bus at night.
Last time, one of them stared at my chest the whole ride over. It
really freaked me out. I was afraid he'd do something.”

Tristan stops rocking me back and
forth. “Why didn't you call me?”

“
I thought humiliation was
part of the exercise.”

“
Humiliation,” he says,
“yes. Not fear for your personal safety. If you ever feel that
unsafe again, I want you to let me know immediately.”

“
I'm sorry.”

“
Don't apologize. Your
safety should come first and foremost. It's my job to take care of
you, not put you in positions where you feel as if you might come
to harm.”

“
You are so
sweet.”

“
Don't say that. It
shouldn't be
sweet
of a man to respect a woman's boundaries. It should be common
sense.
Sweet
implies that it's a sacrifice on the man's part, an act of
gargantuan selflessness. That isn't how it should be at
all.”