Tugging Reins: Part Three
Chris paused, his hands freezing mid-swipe, feeling his world stop. For a long moment, the only sounds that registered were some has-been star singing like Bing Crosby and Danielle’s words echoing over and over in his head.
Had she just said what he thought she’d said?
There was a long pause.
“It’s cool, if you don’t,” she said as she climbed up the tall, sturdy ladder to put away a box. “I just thought—”
“I do,” he insisted, his voice cracking on the words. He coughed and slowly, thoughtfully, carefully put back on his glasses, sure that once he did his world would make sense again. “I mean, if you’re offering…” he hedged. He swallowed hard, still feeling off-balanced and out-of-place. “I mean, when would you…”
“We could do it now,” she said with an excited smile as she turned to sit on one of the ladder’s rungs, “if you want.”
Now? “How?” He didn’t have any toys with him. Hell, he didn’t even own any toys. He pretty much had a pair of old handcuffs that had come with a hand-me-down magic set his aunt gave him when he was ten and that was it.
“You ever tie anyone up?” she asked.
He looked around. “I don’t think there’s rope here,” he said. Not to mention all the other equipment—frames and hooks and whatnot—that he’d seen in all the scenes in movies.
Danielle looked around. “There,” she said, pointing from the ladder, “the duct tape. That’ll work.”
He grabbed the roll of silver tape, staring at it warily. Taping someone up. He supposed it would work. But he didn’t know. It didn’t really seem as sexy. Shaking the roll, he said, “What do I do with it?”
He watched her climb down the ladder, her heavy hips swaying as she scuttled down the steps.
She really did have a huge ass. He shouldn’t have liked it; he wasn’t a huge ass kind of guy. Had never gotten the appeal of it.
Until her.
“Stop,” he said as Danielle set one delicately arched foot on the floor. “Stay,” he said as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her turned back—his eyes centering on that sweet sweep of her back that led straight to that ass.
That was where he wanted her.
That was exactly how he wanted her.
“Stay,” he repeated again as his hand tightened on the roll of duct tape.
His nails scraped to find the roll’s end before pulling a huge length of it free. He straightened to his full height and reached for her wrist, loving the sound of her panting breaths and the scent of her sweet, slightly citrus perfume. Encircling her smooth, soft wrist, he held it against the hard, unforgiving metal ladder. Taking the tape, he held it up to wrap it around her wrist.
“No,” she stopped him, “do it with the sticky side facing out, so it doesn’t tear at my skin afterward.”
Oh.
That was good to know.
He flipped the roll around, sticking one end on the ladder before wrapping the tape wrong-side up along her wrist, binding her to the ladder. “Like that?” he asked, hoping he’d done it right.
“Yeah,” she purred. “I like that.”
He arched an eyebrow, liking her answer far better than his question.
She liked it.
Good.
He moved around her, securing her other wrist in the same fashion. When he was done, he stared at his work with pride as he twirled the roll around two fingers like a gunslinger.
Now what?
“Do you mind turning off the Christmas shit?” Danielle asked, her back still turned from him. “It’s hard to get in the right frame of mind with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, you know?”
“What is it with you and Christmas?” Chris asked. Sure, it wasn’t exactly his favorite time of year either—not when he’d worked four consecutive Christmas seasons in retail while also balancing studying for finals. But it was Christmas; how could a person hate it so much?
“I’m Jewish,” she said, a duh tone in her voice.
“So?” Chris said, futzing with his glasses. “Lots of people celebrate it without it being about religion. Most people do, I bet. Mostly, it’s about family and friends and gifts.”
“We’re really going to talk about my holiday spirit now?” she asked, rattling her wrists that were now bound to the clanking ladder. “Can you just turn off the damn carols, Carey, so we can make our own merry with the good stuff?”
“And why do you always call me Carey?” he asked, perplexed.
“It’s your name,” she all but shouted, exasperated. “Why are we talking about this now?”
“My name is Chris Carey,” he insisted. “Most people call me Chris, but you don’t; why?”
“Oh my God!” she hissed shrilly. “You have me tied up to a ladder and this is what you want to do with me. Talk about torture!” Turning her head with a dramatic whip of her dark, curly hair, she glared at him. “Look, Carey, I don’t care if your name is freakin’ Kris Kringle; I’ll call you whatever you want, let’s just get on with this.”
Kris Kringle?
Chris wrinkled his nose as the store speakers boomed a breathy rendition of “Santa Baby.”
Kris Kringle, huh?
“I like that,” he mused, thinking how much it would make her cringe. He heard her groan and hit her forehead against the ladder rung with a clattering smack. “If you weren’t trussed up so nicely on that ladder, I’d love to put you over my knee. Talk about whether you’ve been naughty or nice.”
“Really?” she balked. “We’re going there?” She shook her head.
For a moment, Chris wondered—worried—if he’d gone too far with the joke. If she wouldn’t play along. If she’d ask to be cut down then storm out.
God, he hoped not.
He held his breath.
“Fine,” she grunted with a little, put-upon laugh. “Fine, Santa Baby,” she sighed, slipping some more sass into her tone, “you’ve got me wrapped under your tree and all you can think to do is talk. C’mon, Kringle, you can do better than that, can’t you?”
A wicked smile spread across his face at her acceptance. Awesome. Freakin’ awesome.
Eager, his eyes lit on the leftover Christmas decorations that Danielle had insisted be taken down. Oh yeah. That would work. Chris grabbed the box and brought it close, the box jingling and jangling as he walked.
Danielle turned again to watch him dig about the box. “Oh, Jesus, really?” the Jew groaned, rolling her eyes. “And I’m the one with a thing about Christmas?”
He smiled as he pulled out the reindeer reins.
“Hit me with that,” Danielle warned, “and I’ll kick your ass, reindeer boy.”
He chuckled, the sound devious even to his own ears. “Oh, I wasn’t planning to hit you with it,” he assured her—it didn’t take an expert to know that the metal bells would scratch her up and cause way too much damage. He shrugged with a smug tilt of his lips. “I just thought you could use a little trimming.”
Pulling on the hem of her shirt, he lifted it up over her head so it hung around the front of her shoulders, offering a nice cushion between her and the cold metal while baring her back. Chris stared at the plain, tan band of her bra. He reached for the clasp.
“Wait,” she said quickly. “I want to keep my bra on,” she said definitively. “And my panties,” she added. “Everything else is fine, but those are a no-go.”
Okay. He shrugged as he pulled his hands away a little disappointed.
Until he realized what she’d said.
Everything else is fine.
“So I can take off your pants?” he asked cautiously, wanting to be sure.
“Pants, yes,” she clarified, “panties, no. Do it and we’re done.”
He supposed he could deal with that. Truth be told, while thrilled and excited by the prospect of it, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to go there either.
Well, she’d taken it out of his hands; it was almost a relief.
Reaching for her pants, he undid the denim and slid the material down her thick hips, over supple thighs, and down her tapered calves. Kneeling down to strip the jeans away along with her socks and shoes, he tossed it all aside and looked up.
Chris strangled on his tongue—that suddenly felt swollen and salivating and far too large for his mouth—as he stared at her bared ass. Covered only in the softest-looking scrap of some kind of silky material—decorated with ducks, of all things—her ass was amazing. Full and round, it made his brain go blank as his hands itched to grip and grab. He had to grit his teeth and fist his hands as he stared at the strip of lace that hugged her hips, giving tantalizing glimpses of untouchable skin.
Danielle sighed. “Boys and butts;” she tsked, “one sight strikes ‘em dumb.”
Rolling his eyes, he pinched the round, ripe flesh, making her yelp and jump. Dumbstruck, indeed! He’d show her.
With a cheeky grin, he tucked the reins into the lacy sides of her panties before grabbing the reins’ ends and wrapping them around his fists. Jingling them, he smiled. Flicking his wrists lightly, he tugged, forcing her hips to jerk. “Heeya,” he laughed, making her giggle as well.
His smile widened, glad she could see the humor too. “Wanna see if we can make these sleigh bells ring?” he asked as her laughter racked her body, causing the bells to tinkle cheerfully.
Chris reached back into the box and grabbed a fistful of tinsel, silver strands twined with sprigs of fake holly. Folding the long strands over and over into a gathered bundle, Chris stared at it thoughtfully. If he gripped one end in his fist, the folded tinsel looked almost like a flogger. He shrugged. Hmmm.
Pulling his arm back, he rapped her shoulders. Not hard. Experimentally. Just to see.
“Did you just whip me with tinsel?” she gaped, disbelieving. “Tinsel?”
“Is that,” he said with a hesitant shrug, “okay?” He was working with what he had; he didn’t know what else to do. He felt his palms sweat and his face flush.
“I just can’t believe this is my life,” she chuckled throatily. “Just don’t go to strong with that, ‘kay?” she said. “I’m not all that into stingy sensations.”
Stingy?
With a curious frown, Chris smacked his forearm with the makeshift flogger.
Huh.
He kinda liked it. The sharp bite of the plastic plant. The slight scratch of the tinsel’s fringe. The electric burn it left on his skin. Yeah, he kinda liked the sting.
Filing that thought away for future exploration, he turned the toy back on Danielle, careful to only tease her with it. He let it sway down her back, letting the strands trail and tangle down her back as the holly lightly scratched her skin. She shivered and moaned, arching her back.
Huh.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her ass wiggle, shimmying sweetly. Invitingly.
With a shrug, he brought the tinsel back again before lightly slapping her with it across her writhing cheeks. He practically jumped when her whole body bounced. He held his breath, wondering what her reaction would be, until she sighed and shook her duck-covered ass again.
Taking that as approval, he straightened with something akin to satisfaction and swaggering pride as he lashed her again a little harder this time. She jerked again and again, making the reins ring with each thwack. He listened to her harsh breaths and soft sighs. She placed her cheek against the ladder, a look of overwhelmed ecstasy swept over her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips open as squeaking whimpers escaped those pretty, painted lips. Her body was tense, moving stiltedly, responding to his movements—to him—almost without will, without thought.
Chris wanted to whoop. This was amazing. Having a woman—this woman, so bossy and cocksure and infuriating—under his hands. Making her body do and react and feel what he wanted it to. Controlling her body and her mind so completely. He shouldn’t like it so much.
But, God help him, he did.
He fucking loved it.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3y8c3c/have_yourself_a_kinky_little_christmas_part_three