Before the Show Begins

Part I

He listened the soft sound of her breathing as he tugged the rope tighter around her shoulder and chest, beginning the tie-off process as he wrapped each section of the rope around and around his previous lines.

"How does it feel? Any tingling in your fingers?"

"No," she said, pleasantly, breathlessly.

He nodded, though she could not see him with the blindfold on. "I trust you to tell me if that changes." The silence she left between them was pleasant and comfortable after half a dozen sessions. This tie was a little more complex, even suspension aside, but he reminded himself to take his time--to enjoy the sound of the rope as it moved across his hands, to listen for adjustments in her breathing. He lamented not having live music like there often was in the Underground, but alas, he couldn't quite manage that

and

his view off the balcony. Not yet. And today, with the play beginning in little more than an hour, he wanted the view.

He glanced that way wistfully, toward the picture window opening with a bird's eye light of sight to the stage, the other boxes, and general admission seats. A small smile danced onto his face. This was only the beginning of what he was certain would be a very, very good night.

He tested his ties one last time, checking that they were two fingers of width from Sonya's skin when he slid them underneath the ropes at her waist and turned them. The perfect tension. For a moment, he wished someone else was around to see his handiwork, but the door to his room was, of course, firmly closed and locked--not that many people even knew the room existed.

Looping another length of rope underneath the harness, he thoughtfully tied and attached it to the anchor point on the suspension rig he'd designed and commissioned himself. He'd told the metalsmith it was a theater prop, and in some ways, that had been true. With Sonya secured, though still on the ground, he touched both sides of her knee, their cue for her to give him her leg. She obliged gracefully, rebalancing on one foot and offering the other delicately toward his hand. He waited a moment, watching her strain to keep it in the air. At last, when he thought she might give in and put it down, he took her foot in his hand, stroking the top of it. He was rewarded with Sonya's delicious shiver and a sudden intake of breath. Deeply, quietly, he hummed in his throat.

Taking yet another length of rope, he unwound it and let it fall dramatically, making a thump against the hardwood floor--the same black flooring they'd used for the stage. Sonya shivered again, and he smiled at her, stroking one of her cheeks.

Then, he began a single-column tie, looping through the suspension ring twice and beginning to add some tension. Gratefully, Sonya released some of her weight and balance into the ropes, though she was not fully secure just yet. He allowed this, tightening the ropes in phases as he secured her leg in a bent position, her heel pulled toward her backside. Her head lolled a little to one side--she was beginning to feel the intoxication of it all. And, with another look out the open window, he was, too--he felt the floor more distinctly underneath his shoes, felt his pants growing comfortingly tight, felt his shoulders roll back and relax into his smooth competence. Yes, he recognized this sensation. Blinking slowly, languorously, he thought,

Hello, old friend.

Tying off the rope on Sonya's leg, he adjusted the length attached to the suspension ring tighter, pulling her, at last, off the ground entirely. She let out a surprised gasp and then a moan as her full weight rested against the ropes, embracing the tension of her gravity.

"Ah ah," Rhys chided lightly. "Our guests will be arriving soon." He selected a thick black scarf from his bed and placed it in front of her mouth. "How will you tell me that something is wrong?" he asked. Sonya motioned back and forth rapidly with one hand, even as her wrists were pinned against her back.

"That's my girl," he said, pressing the cloth between her lips and tying it off behind her head, below her ponytail. With one last length of rope, he tied her other leg in a similar fashion, splayed open and away from the other. That done, he pushed her lightly, allowing a slight spin, and he stepped back to admire his handiwork. He let her make three full, slow rotations before he gently stopped her, listening to her breathing. It was slow and deep, almost as though she were asleep, though he knew she was far from it. He pulled one length of rope over another near her shoulder to smooth the aesthetic for his taste, and then he slid his hand down a length of rope connected to the suspension ring, stopping just before he touched her skin. Sonya moaned into the gag and moved her head closer to where she thought he might be. She couldn't reach him.

Rhys lifted a satisfied eyebrow and turned back toward the bed, taking pity on her and picking up a small length of stretchy material. This he looped around her forehead and tied to the suspension ring so she didn't need to hold her head up herself anymore. Sonya hummed gratefully into her gag, and he pushed her into another gentle spin, this time touching the length of her thigh as it passed him. She could barely muster a shiver this time, her muscles too relaxed to tense against him.

Holding the vibration deep in his throat, Rhys hummed pleasantly, deeply satisfied. He stroked her hair at her scalp, the small amount still visible between the blindfold, headstrap, and gag. And then, almost excitedly, he adjusted his ties at the suspension rig, lowering her torso until she was parallel to the ground, maybe just slightly tilted toward the floor. Carefully, he re-tied and adjusted the strap on her forehead, pulling her head back snugly. With another set of slow spins, he bent down and stopped her with light, warm hands against her cheeks.

"You look so beautiful," he said, enunciating every syllable for both their benefit--stroking his own ego and hers. And it was true. Her skin glowed in the candlelight, leaving crisscrosses of shadows from the rope. And all the places where the rope bit into her skin from the weight of the suspension only accentuated her softness, her pliability. All his, at least for now.

He stood, his belt at the height of her nose. Taking half a step forward, he allowed her to touch him, and immediately, eagerly, she nuzzled against the front of his pants, seeking and finding his hardness. Pushing against the elastic, she moved her head, attempting to press her gagged lips to him. At that, he stepped away, taking a long, deep, luxurious breath, and then he stepped forward again to another bout of her eager searching, rubbing, nuzzling. He rested his hands on her shoulders, tracing the lines of rope that pressed her hands against her back, exhaling with his head tilted back.

He enjoyed tantalizing her. He took pleasure in his own handiwork. He felt heady, powerful, being so fully in control of her. And yet...

Something still felt like it was missing.

Rhys stepped away from Sonya again, bending down to whisper in her ear--one of her few unbound senses--to say, "Be a good girl now, Sonya."

She whimpered, knowing he liked to play this game, leaving her without touch for extended periods--never disregarding safety, though, of course. He never went far.

For now, he went over to the balcony and stepped out, looking down at the empty theater. The box seats. General admission. The stage. The lights. Such a world he had built up. He was proud of it, and yet...

Rhys turned and leaned his elbows on the railing, looking at Sonya, completely trussed up.

She's going to miss the play,

he thought pleasantly, not that she ever really came for that in the first place. Sonya groaned into her gag, and Rhys chided her, "Ah ah. Is that a sound good girls make? I can hear you from here." He liked the way his voice echoed on its way to her--it probably sounded like it was coming toward her from all angles. A thrill jumped through his stomach at the thought.

He stepped closer now, knowing the sound of each approaching footfall would raise Sonya's hopes just a little higher. She began to cry when he was still only halfway there, but she did not give the signal that it was too much. She had told him, back when they first negotiated, that she often enjoyed crying--hoped for it, even--and he trusted her. He trusted her.

Rhys took another step forward and stopped, still two paces away. Immediately, Sonya muffled a distraught

please

, but it was a reasonable volume.

"Have you been good?" Rhys asked, and Sonya squirmed in her ropes, which made a delicious sound as they strained. Given that he had just chastised her, he knew she would take the question hard. She started crying harder, her sobs suppressed by the gag and the blindfold.

"Would you like to make it up to me?" Rhys asked her, taking another step closer. Sonya nodded vigorously, straining the stretchy fabric holding her forehead. She made another sound--this one less intelligible--and the sobs kept coming. With slow patience and a touch of drama, Rhys unbuttoned each of the fastenings at the front of his pants, removing just one of the layers of fabric between him and her mouth. He stepped close enough for his length to touch her cheek, though they were still separated by his underwear and her gag. She rubbed her face against him like a hungry cat, and he smiled slightly down at her, one eyebrow raised.

"You think you can make it up to me?" he said, wanting to keep his rhythm, his flow. Below him, he heard the ushers open the doors, and a swell of pleasure pressed Rhys' length against Sonya's face. She hummed and nodded into him.

"Show me you can be quiet," he whispered, freeing his length from his underwear and reaching around to slowly untie the knots that held the gag in place. He let it drop from her mouth, though it hung in place momentarily on account of all the moisture. Sonya wasted little time spitting the rest of it out before taking his length into her mouth, a soft, long hum pulsing through her throat, punctuated by how deeply she pulled his length inside. Instead of stepping closer, he grabbed the ropes, pulling her toward him, arm muscles working. She sucked and pulled at him--quietly, like the good girl she was--and he held her ropes tightly, giving her the perfect angle. He stroked her hair and the top of her back, letting out long, audible sighs of pleasure.

There may be something missing, but this sensation was still

glorious.

Soon, he began pulling the ropes intermittently such that she swung closer and away from his cock. He became more aggressive about it, and she gagged several times before he let her swing away again. At one point, he pushed her away such that his cock fell entirely from her mouth, and he watched as her lips trembled and tears flowed. To her credit, she did not make a sound. Pleased, he pulled her back to him quickly, and she brought her mouth around him again happily, vigorously, such that he barely needed to move her with the ropes anymore. His pleasure was mounting, his desire pulsing with the crowds entering the theater below. At last, he thrust himself as deeply into her throat as he could, letting her gag around his tip as he ejaculated, his seed flowing hot down into her.

He hummed out what would have otherwise been a long moan and took his time with his inhale before he pulled out of her mouth and settled his length back into his underwear, buttoning his pants back to his typical, professional attire. His eyes were wide, and he felt thoroughly awake and invigorated now. He took only a moment to sit on at the foot of his bed to recover--his arousal already beginning to return as he heard the sound of milling patrons below. He looked hungrily at Sonya, who was licking her lips languorously, swallowing.

If there was something missing, he wasn't going to leave the theater to go find it. It would need to come to him.

After another moment sitting down, Rhys stood and walked toward Sonya, tempted toward a moan himself. She perked up again, lifting her head slightly, as she heard him approach.

"That's my girl," he whispered, tracing the ropes around her breasts and grazing one of her nipples. "That's my girl," he said again, following the ropes toward where they hugged her thighs on either side of her groin. He felt the heaviness of moisture and humidity between her legs even before he fully reached her pubic hair. He watched her bite her lip and clamp down on herself even harder as he slipped a finger between her labia. He was pleased with the fluids that had accumulated there.

Pulling his finger away, he circled the apparatus, enjoying the view of her from behind. With both legs folded and pulled back out of the way, her vulva was extremely available to him, and again, he prided himself on his handiwork. He relished the ways the ropes pulled taut the flesh between her hips and her inner thighs, and he salivated as he considered his options. He did not want to be

too

spent before the Underground even began, but he didn't want to be ravenous either. There was a balance to strike here.

His length pulsed beneath his underwear, confirming that he was ready for more. With care, he stepped out of his shoes and pulled off each sock. He slid his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. Looking out past the balcony, he unbuttoned his pants again and slid them off alongside his underwear. Then, selecting a condom from the pocket of his discarded pants, he opened the package and slid the latex on, giving himself a few slow strokes to confirm he had it on to his comfort.

Ah, but he didn't want Sonya to worry about the sounds she might make while he did this. Bending down to collect the gag, he stepped closer to her, allowing the warmth of his body to press against hers as he retied the gag into place. Almost immediately, she gratefully moaned into the fabric, the sound perfectly muffled. He smiled, letting go so he could again trace the ropes that held her in place, this time focusing on her hips as he took hold.

Swaying his own hips to properly position himself, Rhys took a wide stance and pressed his tip against the fluid dripping from her vulva. He paused, listening to the clinking of glasses as the bar started up in earnest. He could hear as people began filing into the theater toward their seats. Looking out over the balcony, Rhys caught a distant glimpse of one of the actors pulling the on-stage curtain back slightly to check on the crowd. Rhys' smile deepened. He would need to chastise the actor for that later, but not now. Now, it pleased him to know that someone else was similarly eager, albeit for a different reason.

Pulling on the ropes around Sonya's hips, Rhys eased himself inside her, leaning back against the wall and pulsing his cock as he held them both suspended in the moment. Bending his knees slightly, he swayed and circled, putting pressure on every part of her insides in turn as well as on his length. She squeezed him eagerly with her pelvic muscles, pulling him deeper in, and he obliged, first pulling halfway out and then thrusting in mercilessly. Pausing. Thrusting again. Pausing. Thrusting again. He stopped, then, to listen to the sound of her breathing. Her head was heavy, and he could imagine her eyes lolling back, tears streaming.

In the theater below, a woman laughed delightedly, and Rhys stopped holding himself back, thrusting rhythmically into Sonya, pulling on the ropes in any way that would give him a more pleasurable angle while he leaned against the wall and let his arms do the work. The peak of his pleasure was coming quickly, and Sonya squeezed his length again, her inner muscles trembling. She was close, too.

He paused momentarily in his thrusting, holding her as close to him as he could, his arms and the ropes straining.

"You only get rewarded if you're good for me tonight, Sonya. Hold it back."

He remembered, in their early negotiations, how she had practically

begged

for denial, insisting that everyone she had previously asked wouldn't believe that she actually wanted it. Rhys was more than happy to oblige.

She made muffled sounds of distress, but her hands did not move, and he thrusted again several times, and soon, her sounds dropped off altogether.

"You're going to be so beautiful for me tonight, serving drinks to my guests in your rope harness," Rhys whispered, pausing between thrusts again, this time to draw out his own pleasure. Sonya gave him another round of muffled almost-words.

Beneath them, a deep voice welcomed a friend he hadn't seen in a long while, and Rhys thrusted one last time, letting himself spill over into his perfect little prize. He allowed himself to shudder and shiver within her, leaning away from the wall to get the most out of the warmth between Sonya's legs.

"Sonya. Sonya," he whispered as he listened to her quiet sobs. He pulled out of her, and the sobs intensified, and he knew he needed to get her down shortly. The intensity of the suspension, the denial, and the arousal were surely overwhelming her by now. And she had a job to do later.

Seeking a cloth to clean himself up, Rhys slowed his breathing and donned his underwear. He took a few moments to sit on the edge of the bed before he pulled on his pants as well. Next, he re-buttoned his shirt. Tossing a look at Sonya, he stepped onto the balcony as he adjusted the buttons at the end of each sleeve. The theater was truly beginning to fill now--it was almost a sold-out show. Still, there was time enough to go out and mingle.

Coming back into the room, Rhys gazed at Sonya for a few beats, trying to memorize the way she looked in this moment. And then, with a breath, he untied the gag again, kissing her forehead as he did so. The gag was thoroughly wet with saliva and tears, as was the blindfold. Next, he began untying the suspension, well aware that she would not be able to stand once he lowered her.

He leaned against her, careful to avoid getting moisture on his shirt, to counterbalance her as he lowered her and untied the leg bindings. Once she was off the apparatus, he carried her over to the bed and began untying the lower section of the harness. He was slow and methodical while still being practical--untying the ropes was nearly as pleasurable as tying them in the first place, the vibrations soaking through them both.

Once he had untied her hands, Sonya began to relax into the bed, and Rhys released a sigh of relief. He trusted that she was safe now--out of danger. Suspension was always a risk. Rope at all was a risk. That was part of the thrill.

He finished untying her until all that was left was the halter-style chest harness, and then he picked her up again and helped her under the covers of his bed.

"Stay here until the play is over," Rhys said, kissing her cheek and neck calmly.

"Yes, my lord." He kept kissing her throat.

"That's my girl," he whispered, tucking the sheets around her. "There are scissors in the nightstand if you need out of the harness. Don't hesitate to use them."

Sonya nodded, her lids puffy and swollen from tears, though her lips curved in a blissful smile.

"I won't be gone long," he said, donning a matte black jacket.

((For more stories set in the same universe, search for the tag "underground speakeasy."))