Addicted to Rope Page 4

  There was more, elaborate tortures in which the women were placed in predicaments where they were tied together in ways that meant one or other of them would have something painful happen to them if the other broke position or lost concentration.

  It was crazy stuff, serious torture that seemed both sadistic and surreal at the same time. And yet Ruth was … intrigued. Attracted. Wanted the experience. She didn’t want to be on camera, but the videos burned themselves into her brain, nerve endings, emotions. She couldn’t help wondering how much of that kind of treatment she could take. Couldn’t help wondering how she’d feel if he hooded her, how vulnerable she’d be, whether it was more scary than a simple blindfold. Experimented with a pillowcase and found it was way more scary than a blindfold.

  She emailed Leo, saying she’d seen the videos and accusing him of ingenious cruelty beyond any reasonable limits.

  His reply: There’s nothing reasonable about fantasies. You should know that as well as anyone. And the woman suspended in bondage, whose pussy he’d flogged, had come to him with the idea for the scene, wanted to act it out.

  Her reply: So if I had a fantasy and wanted to act it out, would you do it with me? Or to me?

  Yes, he said. Of course. Subject to practical considerations.

  Interesting. She had the kernel of an idea in mind. Half of it came from the bondage performance, half from the porn video, all of it probably from some buried, repressed desire that had originated in her around puberty. And in a couple of weeks, she’d be working in the city where Leo lived.

  The trouble was, her fantasy wasn’t a single, joined-up beginning-to-end story. It was a series of incoherent snapshots. The first involved her being vulnerable in some public place, and her rescuer being a kidnapper. The second was of her tied in some way in the middle of a large space, perhaps an abandoned factory. The third was of being suspended in ropes. And the fourth, being fucked in public, in front of an audience, as though she were putting on a sex show.

  When she explained all this to Leo, his reply was direct and to the point. In a couple of weeks’ time he was doing another porn shoot. It would be in a nightclub, currently closed and up for sale, where the production company had arranged a weekend hire of the premises. Suspension was no problem. As to an audience – there’d be the cameraman, lighting engineer, sound engineer, producer, director, director’s assistant, make-up artist, and the other performers. Perhaps a dozen people altogether. It would be no problem to have her included in the shoot, or if that sounded too challenging, to have her on site as his personal submissive, dealt with when the cameras weren’t rolling.

  Instructions would follow.

  That made her gulp, put a knot in her stomach.

  Ruth began to take a serious interest in the kind of clothing she thought of as slutwear. She bought wide mesh holdup stockings, the kind she saw advertised as “fence-mesh” stockings. She investigated Ebay and came up with a selection of stretchy micro-mini dresses with halter necks, cutaway sides, deep slashes to the front and virtually no back. The one she chose was the kind of dress under which some underwear, perhaps a G-string, would be sensible because it was brief. On the other hand, there wasn’t enough to the sides of the dress to hide any underwear. Not even the thin side elastic of a G-string. It was a dress to wear with nothing underneath.

  She certainly had a body that would take that kind of dress well. Whether she had the confidence to wear it was another question. Perversely, since a little bit of stretch fabric provides more cover than none, maybe she’d actually prefer to be naked. After all, that was where her fantasy started.

  Then there were other triggers. She’d been naked with Leo, tied up, sucked him, been fucked by him. They emailed and had phone conversations. She felt it was a relationship, of a kind, and even though she’d seen the video evidence of him fucking other women, that was video and not first-hand eyeballing. She wondered how she’d feel on a film set, sitting in the shadows, watching him fuck someone else in her presence.

  She also wondered if her fantasy of a sex show in front of an audience meant being fucked by other men, too. Men she didn’t know. Maybe it did. She couldn’t read her own feelings about it. Decided that once the scene started, it would be out of her control. It would either happen, or it wouldn’t, and if they were people Leo trusted then she should go with it. If he said it was OK, they could be trusted to fuck her as well. After all, it wasn’t as though she was exactly pure and innocent, having had three or four one-night-stands a week for the last few years!

  Just thinking through the angles, the possibilities, the triggers, the what-could-go-wrong and the what-could-be-hot about it, was an education in itself. It threw up stuff she’d never previously considered, emotional issues she’d never even known were issues for her. She had to think hard about what she was letting herself in for. At the end of it, she was even more committed to her fantasies.

  On a weekend at home, Ruth picked up the week’s mail. It included the slutwear she’d ordered. She tried it out in front of a mirror, decided she looked like a cheap whore. Almost took it off again, but then, since she was in the privacy of her own home, kept it on. Decided she wanted to spend a little time feeling like a cheap whore. Getting into role, perhaps. On a whim, while wearing the dress, she pulled out a length of chain and a couple of padlocks she’d bought the previous week. Following an idea she found on the internet, Ruth chained herself to the bed by the ankle, with the key – while easily available – frozen into an ice cube. Hmm. Preparing the key had taken several hours. Maybe it wasn’t a whim after all. If she wanted to free herself, she could wait for the ice cube to melt. Or speed up the process by running it over her body. She chose the latter.

  And while lying on her bed, in the dress, stroking her clit with the ice cube, a memory suddenly came back to her. The chain, the dress, her fantasies of submission, the need to be tied and controlled – they all went back to her teenage years. They were about reclaiming the identity of “cheap whore”, which was how her father had described the far more modest outfits she’d worn to parties when she was fifteen, sixteen, and still living at home. His words had made her feel cheap, despite having waited – unlike most other girls she knew – until she was eighteen and at university before losing her virginity.

  Fuck you, dad, she thought. You wanted me to become a professional. And I am. And at the same time, with one-night-stands as I move from hotel to hotel, I’ve come to value myself as precisely what you despised: a cheap whore.

  The insight suddenly made her feel free, liberated, entitled to be exactly what her father had meant by that insult. Entitled to embrace those words.

  Hell, maybe she’d even go on camera.

  Chapter Five

  The following week, in the hotel she was staying at, there was a convention of some kind. An annual meeting for some kind of professional association. It was a challenge she couldn’t resist.

  Ruth put on the slutwear dress under her long coat, left unbuttoned. No underwear, because as she’d previously worked out, there was no point. Pushed her way through the crowded hotel bar. Had men smile at her, smiled back. She was picky. A lot of men tried to start conversations with her. Given the amount of leg and cleavage visible even with her coat on, it was hardly surprising. She only chose the ones that looked presentable, open-faced, clean, with no air of slime or grease ball.

  She picked three. Why three? Ruth wasn’t trying to set a world record. She was doing this for her, and it was about the “cheap whore” tag, a trigger from the past that she’d buried, forgotten about, and now wanted to exorcise.

  Ruth wasn’t going to be a cheap whore. She was going to give it away for free.

  At the end of each conversation, she took the man’s hand, pulled out a marker pen, and wrote her room number followed by a time. Nine for the first man, ten for the second, eleven for the third. And then she returned to her room.

  The thing about a hotel room is that the room doors close and lock automatic
ally. They had to knock, and she had to open the door to them. She’d contemplated proper submission scenarios – a long chain from her ankle to the bed, wearing handcuffs or a blindfold – but rejected them. Despite the fact she’d be the one submitting, the men would probably find the situation scary. And she had an inkling they’d find her scary enough anyway. It was something she’d learned intuitively – when a woman’s on a mission, being independent and looking to satisfy her own needs, men often do find it scary. And they need to be treated gently.

  The one exception in her life?

  Leo. He’d taken her mission and turned her into a submissive slut. And yet by a strange psychological process, her entry into submission was also a recognition of her unfulfilled fantasies and desires, and a valuing of her independence.

  The first guy didn’t show. Ruth stamped her foot in disgust, felt like going back to the bar and dragging him back by his tie. Instead she was patient, played with herself a little, checked for emails. Read and re-read the one from Leo that was headed “Instructions, Terms and Conditions”. Felt flushed as she let the words burrow under her skin. She became so wound up in it that the knock on her door at precisely ten startled her.

  She didn’t even know the guy’s name. Then, absurdly, she realised it was on the conference name tag around his neck. It was …

  ‘Come in, Guy!’

  She knew she was on a power trip, doing this for her and not for him. Hadn’t worked out quite how ravenous she was, though. Felt like a vampire bleeding an innocent victim. She had his clothes off, condom on, and was straddling him on the bed within maybe thirty seconds. After that, she had him fuck her doggy style. He was erect enough, and gave her two orgasms in quick succession, but when he stopped and she rolled over, Ruth saw the little bulb at the tip of the condom wasn’t filled with his come.

  ‘I think,’ he said, lying down next to her. ‘I wasn’t quite prepared for someone as upfront as you.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Ruth kissed him gently on the chest. He had a thick coat of hair there. Unlike Leo, she thought suddenly, who shaved his chest hairs. And felt a pang of desire for him, and a thought in the back of her mind. She’d picked up three men. Was that something to do with her having seen Leo fuck three women in the video?

  ‘Most women are quite reserved about sex,’ she continued. ‘I guess it’s a case of having men sniffing around and wanting to limit unwanted attention. But then once you decide – once I decide – I want the attention, I go all out to get it. And men can be frightened off, as though I’m going to eat them.’

  He sighed, relaxed.

  ‘So maybe the way to handle this is, I will eat you.’

  Those blowjob skills again. He’d obviously never been sucked the way she sucked him, because he was large and coming within about thirty seconds. In her own room, though, and without the ropes, she didn’t have to swallow. There was a box of tissues on the bedside table.

  Ironically, getting rid of Guy was harder than picking him up. He seemed chilled out and ready to sleep. He only moved when she lied and said her boyfriend was going to call any minute. He finally left just a couple of minutes before eleven.

  Her eleven o’clock had trouble getting it up as well. Ruth concluded that she’d moved too far into her new world, become too independent, and vanilla sex wasn’t her thing any longer. How strange that by offering her submission, by actively offering sex, she’d come to be perceived as a strong and scary woman! It obviously took someone of Leo’s calibre to control her.

  Preferably with ropes.

  Things took a further turn for the worse when her nine o’clock appointment turned up at half eleven, drunk. She smiled sweetly, said she was already busy, but if the guy she was with agreed they could have a threesome. His face paled to the point that she wondered if he was going to be sick.

  Men. Can’t keep appointments, act like they want to be in your pants, and when it turns out you’re not wearing any and you want to be in theirs, they get frightened.

  Ruth might not have achieved her goal of sleeping with three guys in the same evening, but she went to sleep thinking the experience had taught her a lot about herself and just how deviant she really was. Always had been, in fact, for bad reasons in her past that now had been exorcised. And now, her embrace of deviance was a liberating experience.

  Instructions, terms and conditions.

  The deal Leo had put to her was this. The venue was a porn shoot, though she was supernumerary to the shoot unless she want to sign a long and detailed model release and fill out a complicated checklist about what, exactly, she was prepared to have done to her. She ignored the model release, but completed the checklist just for fun. It was harder than she’d imagined. It started with whether she was prepared to wear an anal plug, ended with detailed lists of what parts of her body she’d be prepared to have whipped with a bullwhip, and in between there were practices ranging from ones she imagined would make her incredibly horny, to ones that were gross and extreme, to ones she’d never even heard of.

  It was an education. It made her realise just how little she really knew of the world Leo inhabited. But it wasn’t a turn-off. It piqued her curiosity. And in any event, without the model release, she’d be safe. Or at least, as safe as Leo wanted her to be, since her role would be to act as Leo’s submissive and personal assistant. And for whatever reason, despite having spent only one night with him, she felt she could trust Leo absolutely.

  Because it was a porn shoot, his email said, things might happen that would shock her. In that case, she should just leave and wait in another room.

  You think I’ll be shocked? After what you’ve already done to me? And I’ve seen your videos, Leo!

  Leo would do with her as he saw fit, but others on the shoot might want to fuck her and that was OK with him if she gave them her consent.

  I consent! Tell them not to even ask, I consent already! The whole point is for me to be a submissive slut!

  And her instructions were simple. She should go to an address, which turned out to be an ordinary suburban house. The garage would be unlocked. She should go inside, where she’d find a chain hanging on the wall and an open padlock. She should remove her clothing, because he’d feel free to use scissors on anything she was wearing after that point. She should chain herself up like some pet, put on the blindfold that would be there, and wait.

  And one other thing. Under no circumstances was she to have sex or masturbate for 24 hours prior to the shoot.

  Ruth wondered how much she’d let on in her emails to Leo. Had she mentioned the chain she’d bought for herself?

  There was no indication of what would happen after that. Ruth could only assume Leo would come to fetch her, or have her taken to the shoot. Reading and re-reading the instructions, she felt hot and yet had delicious shivers running down her spine, all the way through her pelvis, to connect with her clit.

  Her hand moved down, fingers finding their way between her legs. Then she looked at the clock. Twenty-three hours to go.

  Damn.

  Well, Leo wasn’t with her. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t punish her for.

  Her fingers began to work faster as she imagined herself admitting her infraction, and him punishing her for it.

  Chapter Six

  The garage was separate from the house. It was set up to be a workshop, with a bench, racks of tools, welding equipment in the corner. There was a pit, covered over with slats of wood; there was a metal beam with a pulley hanging from it. And there was a long chain hanging from an eyebolt on the wall, with an open padlock and a blindfold on the thoughtfully-provided scrap of grubby carpet on the floor underneath it.

  Ruth folded her coat neatly and placed it on the workbench, along with her car keys. She was wearing the fence-mesh stockings and the slutty dress; wound the chain around her neck and padlocked it there without removing her dress. It had served its purpose already, and she was happy to sacrifice it for the scene. In any case, it had been so cheap it could easily
be replaced…

  Kneeling on the square of carpet, blindfolded, Ruth felt the cheap fabric of her slutwear across her thighs and arse. The dress was so short that in that position it framed, rather than concealed, her pussy and rode halfway up her buttocks. She felt, ridiculously, even more exposed than she would have done had she been naked.

  She began to lose track of time. However, while the situation made her sexually aroused, she also became uncomfortably aware that there was no heating in the garage. She’d seen electric fan heaters near the workbench, but of course she wasn’t in a position now to reach them and switch them on. She was also, despite her anticipation – denoted, she realised, by the way her lips remained slightly parted and the shallow breaths she was taking – beginning to need something to happen. She ran her hands over her body, feeling engorged nipples trying to poke through the thin material of her dress. Considered using her fingers between her legs. If Leo arrived while she was doing it, so what? He’d punish her, but he was undoubtedly going to punish her anyway. Especially when she told him about her breach of the 24-hour condition.

  Maybe he was already there, having come into the garage silently through the back door. Maybe he was watching her on a CCTV monitor.

  Her hands were just beginning to creep across her thighs when she heard the rattle of the garage door. And not one, but three sets of footsteps. All she could work out were that two sets were made by flat-soled shoes, while one had the distinctive click-clack of high heels.

  What the hell?

  While the blindfold made her other senses sharp, Ruth could make no sense of the situation. Nor could she work out why she should feel more vulnerable because one of the people looking at her was female.

  Hand in her hair, pulling her into a slightly different position – still kneeling, but upright rather than back on her haunches. And then the ropes went on her, the same pattern as the first time she’d been tied, with her arms folded behind her back. But they felt, if it were possible, tighter and less forgiving even than that first time. The fingers working the ropes around her body were, however, unmistakeably Leo’s.