Trivial Pursuits Ch. 19

He could only stand with his mouth agape as she fumed. He pulled her up against him, and cupping her cheek said, "Sweetheart, your family is fucked up."

She let out an angry sigh. "Tell me about it."

He smiled softly, his thumb caressing her lips. And just like that, he had morphed the flame of anger into a heat of a different kind. "Come on," he said, not willing to satisfy her yet, "like I've said, we've got a date."

"We have? Where?"

But he only frog marched her off toward his car. When they slid in, he took an appraising look at her before snatching the apricot colored scarf she wore around her neck.

"Hey," she exclaimed, confused.

He only clucked his tongue at her in reprimand, explaining nothing about his intentions. He quickly folded the scarf over and over until it was an adequate makeshift blindfold. "Turn around," he instructed, indicating with a nod of his head that she was to face her window.

Her confused, disbelief made her lips pucker and though he wished to kiss them, he stayed resolute, indicating again for her to turn. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and did as instructed, keeping up the pretense that she was put out, while secretly thrilling at the prospect of submitting to whatever he had planned. Denny secured the scarf, and when she turned back to settle in her seat, he checked to make sure it blocked everything out.

"Now, no matter what-no matter what-you are not to take that off and you will do exactly as I say. Understood?"

He watched her pretty mouth draw up in a disgruntled pout. "Understood?" he asked with a hard edge to his voice.

He waited as her chest heaved slowly in and out with deep breaths of displeasure. She finally nodded once. Satisfied, he turned, fired up his car, and sped away.

On the short drive over, he watched her try to sense where they were headed. To distract her, and prepare her, he began to draw delicate, abstract lines on the skin of her knee, lazy little caresses that first made her jump, but then quickly aroused her. He wanted to chuckle at the little noises she made, but didn't want to ruin the effect of the silent car and the drive in the makeshift dark.

Alessa's first clue as to their destination was the distant clanging of bells that tolled with the rhythm of waves. The seagulls called in their distinct, squawking voice, and the biting salty sea air filled her nose as she took a deep breath, trying to place it all by smell. They were near the water. At first she wasn't alarmed, but when Denny took her by the hand and led her through a locked metal gate that she could hear him disarm, realization dawned. And then he led her down a sharp decline, the hard surface beneath her feet rocking as solid earth shouldn't.

She stopped abruptly, pulling against his hand. "Denny, you are not taking me on that boat," she declared, panic beginning to surge up in her chest.

Instantly, his warm voice in her ear shushing her, his comforting, but insisting hand at her back.

"Sweetheart, trust me?"

The shake of her head was quick, panicky.

"Have I ever led you astray? Ever not been good to you?" His mouth grazed the shell of her ear, his hot breath billowing down the slope of her vulnerable neck. "Trust me," he whispered, and then kissed her mouth.

A fine tremor filled her body as she allowed him to guide her down the steep plank to the dock. The creaking boards beneath their feet sagged occasionally, water sloshing as the force pushed the boards down, and with each uncertain step she felt her stomach drop. She buoyed along between fear and trust, as though she were skipping from cloud to cloud, upheld by the sweet and intangible, but if she paused too long, would become heavy and sink like lead into terrored black.

After what felt like hours of marching down an endless unknown with a short turn to the right, Denny told her to stop and stand still. She felt him bound from her side, the panic returning instantly, but his voice was there, calling from in front of her but from higher somehow.

"Alessa, give me your hands. Raise them up high."

Trembling, she did as instructed and shrieked in dismay when he took ahold of her wrists and lifted her high in the void. She crashed against him, arms clinging for dear life, nearly sobbing at the terror of knowing she was on his boat, that she could see nothing, and that she had no control in anything.

He was there, cupping her face, shushing her with murmured praise as his lips comforted her with tender, aching kisses. "Sweetheart, I have you. You're safe with me." And then he was kissing her in earnest, pouring into her all his promise to hold her and protect her and guide her from the fears mercilessly strangling her. When her hands were grasping his shoulders, not to hold onto something solid in the water, but in need to be as close as mortally possible to him, he gently pulled back from her, his thumb running along the wetness of her bottom lip.

"Now, I'm sure, much to your relief, we're not actually putting out today. I have something...else in mind for us. But..." Denny paused, contemplating the right words.

"Hm?" she prodded, the fine shiver returning.

"I want to...do things to you, but I need your permission," he stated quietly, hating the connotation, but knowing it was the most accurate.

"Permission?" she repeated, pulling away in uncertainty.

"I want you to agree to let me have the control. To do whatever I say. Allow whatever I want."

Her body was writhing uncomfortably away from his embrace. "Allow you what? What do you want to do?"

He held her tighter. "Nothing you won't enjoy. Can you trust me? Please?"

There was such sincerity in his voice, such need for her trust. It struck a sparkling warmth in the pit of her stomach, for its strength and likeness echoed her own need to give him her trust. She lifted her blinded face.

"Yes," she answered, her eyes closed even though they were covered, "I trust you." She meant to say more, to tell him more, but when she felt his warm lips against her trembling ones, she knew there was nothing more to say.

"That's my girl," he murmured as he pulled away. "This way, Sweetheart," he informed her, taking her by the hand and leading her along the deck. At various points, he had to instruct her to wait while he stepped down the obstacle and turned back to help her down as well. Once they were down in the hull of the boat, he took her by the shoulders and, walking behind her, instructed Alessa to put her hands on the walls to help guide her. She had to duck down as they went through a small corridor that seemed to run the length of the boat. She stumbled as they emerged somewhere, but his hand caught her, keeping her upright and safe.

He released her to stand on her own. "Okay, Sweetheart, take off your clothes."

The breath rushed out of Alessa's body, but her trembling hands slowly lifted to do as bid. She had finally become comfortable undressing before him, feeling more aroused than embarrassed now that she had done it too many times to count. But the blindfold, keeping her from watching him watch her, added another layer of excitement laced with unease. She was vulnerable once again.

Down to her underwear, she hooked her thumbs in the fabric and pulled them down, taking the time to wiggle back and forth in attempt to be as provocative as possible. When she had stepped out of them at last, she stood waiting for his touch or next set of instructions, but nothing came.

The rhythm of the boat's gentle undulation was heightened by her lack of sight, forcing her to steady herself quietly. The only other sensation was the sound of Denny behind her, his breathing slow and steady, and as she stood naked and blind before him, all the other sounds of the marina drifted away until the only thing that existed in her world was his breath and the waves beneath her feet.

Her body jerked slightly when the pads of his fingers and thumb touched her skin, calling back the tremor that had once existed because of fear. Her nipples instantly hardened as his fingers stroked an adoring path from her shoulder blade down her spine to the side of her hip. She felt herself lean into him, wanting so much more of his touch. But he pulled his hand away.

"Sweetheart, take a step forward and crawl up on the bed."

The instruction pulled her from her reverie, reminding her that he had a plan for her, a design that had required her permission. She reached her hands forward to feel for the bed, and when her hand felt the wooden frame and softer mattress, her mind pieced together what the set up must have looked like. She surmised that the bed was actually a part of the boat, built into it, as there was a step up to it as well as a built in bench at the foot of it that she had to step up on in order to get on the high mattress. She at first tried to sit down on the bed and scoot up, but he quickly corrected her, stating he had instructed her to crawl onto the bed. Again, the thought of being naked before him and unable to see anything made her feel awkward and vulnerable, so when she went to obey, she moved in such a way that she kept her thighs together, hopefully shielding what she could of her sex.

But Denny had other plans, and when a strong hand quickly grasped her ankle, keeping her from moving farther up on the bed, she stilled, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Spread your legs."

She was slow to obey and received a sharp, unexpected smack on her right cheek. "Ow!" she protested, her head jerking around though she couldn't see anything. The sting spread out to a glowing warmth.

"Stop stalling," he reprimanded.

She huffed indignantly, but was quick to obey. Her face flushed when she felt cool air along her slit, which surprisingly was already very wet. She assumed the best indicator of whether or not she was aroused by what he did was how wet it made her rather than what her mind's reaction to it was.

"Good girl," he praised, causing that familiar warmth in her stomach to blossom. She bit her lip, wondering why she liked his approval so much. His hand was rubbing where he had spanked her bottom, somehow soothing the ache although it simultaneously hurt. "Now, don't move." And then his hand was gone as she heard him walk away. She listened as his footsteps faded from the room and clanked down the hall off to some other place on the boat.

Denny adjusted himself, smirking at how incredibly hard he already was just from watching her kneel naked on his bed and thinking on what he was going to do to her. He was thankful he had just bought new Sta-Set rope for one of the tarps, and pulled it from the storage space beneath the stairs. He had already planned out in his mind how he was going to tie her, knowing which knots were needed and what length would be required. He reached for the utility knife and measured out a length. He sighed as he applied the blade and slowly cut through the new, supple rope, knowing he would now have to buy another one.

Denny stepped into his room smiling in pleasure that Alessa was still in the position he had left her. Her head cocked to the side when he entered, listening for an indication of what he was going to do. She was so delectable in the position that he could have happily fucked her right as she was, but he knew this wasn't about him or quick gratification.

"Get up off your hands, but stay on your knees. And watch your head," he warned coming to stand behind her. She pushed up slowly, raising a hand above her head as she lifted up. She had to duck her head to the side in order kneel upright. When she was comfortable with her balance, her hand dropped back to her side.

"Now put your hands behind your back and grasp on to your elbows," he instructed. She cautiously complied, bringing her hands behind her. Touching her other wrist, Alessa drew her hands along until her forearms laid one on top of the other and her hands clutched the opposite elbows. The position forced her chest out, and in apprehension she tightened her stomach as the sailboat surged docilely on the water.

Without further words, Denny took one of the newly cut ropes and began tying her in place. He laid a length along her forearms and then wound it around them back to the beginning. He then tied it off, completing the heaving line knot. He watched with another smirk as she tried to pull her arms free but stilled when she knew the rope wasn't giving.

Denny then took the end of the second rope and tied it to her right ankle. He took the third rope and tied it the same to the other ankle. He then took the left rope and threaded it through the handle that was attached to the wall. Pulling it through, he tied the end off around her left elbow, effectively binding her loosely to the wall. He did the same to the rope on the right ankle, binding her to herself. He then reached up to sweep her thick hair over her left shoulder. Satisfied with the set up, he slowly but determinedly pushed her down while holding onto a hip. She ended up with her left cheek and just the top of her chest laid on the bed, but her butt stuck up in the air. The increased length between her elbows and ankles pulled the rope tight and spread her feet even farther apart.

Alessa whined in embarrassed discomfort, not certain if she liked the position in which she was now placed. It was certainly erotic in a lewd and helpless sort of way that she had frequently fantasized about, but again she felt vulnerable and a little disgusting. She remembered the night he made her sit spread before herself in the mirror, watching his fingers disappear inside. Her body clenched tight at the memory, knowing what she must look like spread before him now. She waited, but like before, he did nothing.

When the uncertainty became too much, she wiggled her bottom in an effort to find a less compromising position, but the ropes attached to her ankles only pulled painfully on her elbows and wouldn't allow her legs to budge an inch. "Denny, what are you doing?" she asked, hoping to prod him along. But he didn't answer. Again she tried moving, but still was unsuccessful. "Denny, please do something."

No answer.

"Denny, stop staring and just fuck me already."

Nothing.

"Denny, I don't like this. I want to stop." She waited. "I mean it. This isn't fun. I don't like being tied up. I want you to let me go."

He remained silent.

Alessa felt the panic rise. "Denny! I mean it," she said with fear beginning to creep in her voice. She started to pull at the ropes to kneel back up, but it only caused her legs to spread farther apart, defeating her purpose. And finally, when she began thrashing, full panic flooding her mind, she felt a warm hand at her back and his sweet, soothing voice in her ear.

"Sweetheart, stay calm."

"I don't want to stay calm. I want you to let me go. I don't like this," she repeated.

"What don't you like?" he asked softly, his hand stroking down her back.

"Being tied up, of course," she answered acerbically.

"Hm," he responded ponderously. His hand caressed her back, running down and over the curve of her bottom. Alessa scowled and bit her bottom lip as his fingers slid between her parted lips, knowing her pleasure was obvious. He worked his fingers up and down, spreading the copious amount of her fluid onto the outer folds. "But your body does," he observed, the evidence of her arousal now thickly coating his fingers.

"I don't care. I don't want to do this anymore," she growled.

"Remember you promised to let me do whatever I wanted," he reminded her. When she huffed angrily in concession, he pressed on. "What don't you like?"

She was silent a moment. "I don't like not being able to move. I don't like being helpless."

"You don't like being trapped," he stated.

"No," she agreed, shaking her head.

"You want to escape?"

She nodded vehemently.

"But why? There's no need; you're okay, even when you're not in control," he observed. "Just because you can't move doesn't mean you're in danger. Doesn't mean you have to leave. You're safe with me."

Alessa breathed harshly as she thought about what he said. He was right, ultimately; nothing bad was going to happen to her just because she couldn't move, but she still didn't like it, couldn't feel comfortable with not being able to move whenever she wanted. And she didn't like being at his mercy. She said so.

"And why is that? Do you think I'd hurt you?"

The idea was ludicrous, she knew; Denny wouldn't hurt her. Not ever. Not for any reason. It took her conscious acceptance of that fact to feel a little better. If no harm would come to her, then she could relax, at least for a short time.

Denny seemed to sense the change that went through her, the hand that had been stroking her back feeling the relaxation in her body. "Good girl," he murmured, loving to witness her gaining strength right before his eyes. His hand wandered back down, finding with proprietary knowledge the sensitive spots in her folds that made her moan and push her hips back into his hand.

"Even though you're trapped, you're safe. With me, only good things are going to happen. Promise," he whispered, placing a kissing at the nape of her neck. He began stroking her deeper inside, a driven and purposeful touch beyond exploration and arousal. First one finger then a second found their way into her tight cavern, instantly hitting the small field of sensitive nerves that lit her whole body on fire. Denny watched the flush spread over her body as he rubbed and tapped the spot against her pubic bone. Her growing moans indicated his touch would soon be enough to send her careening over the edge into a powerful orgasm. And just before the moment arrived, he pulled his fingers free, leaving her body clenching desperately for him.

"Denny!" she moaned in agony when he didn't immediately replace his fingers with anything else.

"Patience, Sweetheart," he shushed her with a kiss to the top of her spine before trailing his adoring mouth down her back, which was now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He maneuvered around her bound forearms, biting the tender flesh on the underside of her arms with the sharp edge of his teeth. He found a finger and sucked it into his mouth, and much to his gratification pulled an agonized moan from her quivering lips. He swirled his tongue around her digit, stroking lightly in reminder of what else his talented tongue could do. With intense pressure, he pulled back, drawing blood to the tip before he nipped at it, causing her breath to catch.

Alessa squeezed her eyes tight, her sex throbbing just as acutely as the finger he had just suckled in torture. When she realized she was grinding her hips up into the air, her open and weeping slit seeking gratification, she collapsed down with a frustrated growl.

"Ah-ah-ah, my sweet," Denny rebuked softly, "No quitting." He took her by the hips and readjusted her so her bottom stayed high in the air, open and vulnerable.

"Please stop toying with me," she pleaded, her body now in pain from the denied orgasm.

"I told you to stop trying to escape, to finish it. You have to learn to endure," he whispered, positioning himself near her head.

"Hm?" she questioned, not understanding in her haze of frustrated sexual need.

"You run every day, even when it's painful, right?" he asked, reminding her of one of the reasons she enjoyed her nightly runs. Conquering the pain.

"Yes," she breathed.

"You're stronger for it, for being more powerful than the pain, right?"

"Yes."

"You don't try to escape it or avoid it. This is the same. You want to come. You need to come, but when you stay in control, when you stay focused even when you're trapped and get what you want, you're stronger for it. Understand?" he asked gently, placing more kisses to her sweaty neck as his hand returned to the crease of her bottom, sliding in between the plump folds.