Bound & Free

Author's vanity note: I'm incredibly sorry this has taken so long. My thanks to those who sent messages of support! Honestly if you weren't reading this it probably never would have been written - I've read other stories where the author says every comment counts, but never knew how profound the impact of each one was. There's a vanity in writing, an introvert's attention-seeking.

I've tried to rewrite this chapter so many times, to make it more action and less mind-based, but the characters have to go through it, after the last chapter. The next chapter contains more action. I am very interested in what you think and if you have any ideas how I could have handled it. Back to a more regular release schedule now.

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The story so far (as it's been a while since the last chapter): Tristan is unable to look a woman in the eyes. He's a geek among geeks, with a secret S&M fetish and flaky, hippie parents. At a party, Stacy, the campus queen, chooses him for a childish game, pulling him into a cupboard. Wanting to act out his fantasies of domination, he offers her an alternative and she accepts. He ties her up and unexpectedly brings her to orgasm, barely touching her. Against all rational thought Stacy can't forget the feeling. She gets addicted to the whole being tied up thing, likes giving up control.

Later Tristan's cocky roommate Hank - a self-professed ladies' man - sets the awkward Tristan up on a double date with one of his girlfriends' friends, Alice. Tristan's date with Alice goes well, due to the confidence boost from Stacy - at least until Stacy herself interrupts. Stacy drags him off to the restrooms with great conviction but runs out of steam when she intended to berate him. Tristan realizes she wants to be tied up again, and obliges with her own clothes, fingering her to an orgasm, bigger than before. The restaurant staff almost catch them as they leave, but dismiss it on seeing the pair; an impossible "beauty and the beast".

Tristan runs into Alice and honestly tells her he's "interviewing other candidates", as crass as that makes him sound, but for some reason Alice isn't repulsed. Alice has her own issues, namely her uncontrollable curiosity, her impulsiveness, her good-girl complex, a lack of self-confidence... you get the idea. She has particular inferiority issues with "cheerleader types" - like Stacy. Then Stacy kisses Alice - sure it was at Tristan's direction, but Alice likes it far more than she expected. Later, Alice tries to return something to Tristan, but after a run-in with Hank (where Hank nearly punches her), she flees to what she thinks is the empty dorm room he shares with Tristan. She feels she's earned the right to do some snooping. Alice finds a cosplay outfit which she thinks quite suits her, puts it on, and takes a pretty selfie. Hearing a noise, she investigates, and catches Tristan on the toilet masturbating to porn - a threesome with a white woman like Stacy, and a black woman like Alice. Things happen, and Alice ends up posing for him as Tristan finishes on her body. She likes it despite herself, and he proceeds to eat her pussy well enough the surrounding dorm applauds the performance.

Stacy has perfect grades, sublime looks and her own fledgling fashion startup. However, from Stacy's perspective, life isn't easy - it just looks that way. In reality, her old money family is in massive debt, and they're using everything at their disposal to desperately stay afloat. Since her elder sibling died her parents became far stricter and have rigidly trained her to inherit. She wants to make them happy. Now almost every minute of her life is meticulously planned, and she's under so much pressure she has to use pills to keep herself mentally stable, at least until she met Tristan. Her ex-boyfriend Ryan fit her family's criteria as an acceptable suitor, but failed miserably in satisfying the submissive part of her that Tristan awakened. Stacy recognizes she has a need even though she doesn't understand it, so she ended the relationship and makes an arrangement with Tristan securing future "sessions", at least until her little addiction runs its course. Sure she's using him but Tristan is definitely getting something out of it too.

Finally, most recently, Stacy did a bit of research into her new fetish and made herself a collar. She sends him a couple of saucy photos, there's a little Master/slave name-calling, then they meet at the library and Tristan chains her to a bookshelf. She has a memorable orgasm, and, surprising him, she returns the favor...

Unfortunately they have been living dangerously, and their public indiscretion was separately witnessed by the worst two people possible - both Ryan and Alice. Ryan records the scene and slips off. Then Alice, filled with both anger and lust, makes a noise - instead of being ashamed, the topless and cum-covered Stacy, with boundless cockiness, invites Alice to come share a taste of Tristan's... stuff. Shocking everyone, Alice obeys - before she runs off.

Now: Who knows how Alice will react in the morning? What does this mean for Tristan's only real romantic prospect? Why are Stacy's controlling parents so conspicuously silent? Will the author manage to post more than one chapter a month?

Curtain up...

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Alice was in her dorm room, turning restlessly in her bed in the unchanging stillness of the night. For what felt like a lifetime, she waited for sleep to come and free her. She tossed and turned, limbs flailing, as if she were battling some suffocating force. Even now, hours later, her body still buzzed, ready. It urged her to action, but didn't specify what it wanted. She just wanted to sleep - she was so tired. No, she wanted to do something to relieve her restlessness. She didn't know which. On the opposite side of the room, her roommate slept, blissfully innocent. Perfectly relaxed. How could she be so calm when Alice was like this? Damn her, damn everything, why was the world so unfair? Why did last night have to happen?

She had a problem. She'd gone to a quiet place to study and gotten an unexpected education. Her heart still pounded relentlessly, as it had been for hours. As it had ever since she'd had to make those choices yesterday. The wrong choice, part of her whispered, without explaining which one. It kind of made a big difference. Which did she want it to be? As she'd been doing all night, she thought of that tableau, just a few hours ago. Trying to force herself to have a normal reaction. If she were normal, she could have just filled up her head with righteous anger, without being able to put her finger on the reason. But she wasn't getting angry like she expected, like she should - and that was frustrating.

Unwelcome beams of sunlight pierced the silent monotony of Alice's dorm room. They shredded the comforting veil of darkness, lighting up her room in distracting, interesting ways. She tried to convince herself that the illumination came from the rude glare of streetlights. That she hadn't in fact been up all night thinking about what just happened. Her curtains were a flimsy shield against reality.

Alice couldn't sustain any anger; she kept picking apart her reasons, undermining herself. She couldn't stop investigating. Forget Tristan and Stacy - those bastards - their motivations were self-evident: lust and arrogance. The more interesting story was why Alice had reacted that way. Why hadn't she fled, or fought, or even just frozen completely? She should have slapped them. Instead she had approached Stacy, who was topless and covered in Tristan's semen - the guy she, Alice, was dating, thank you very much - and rather than run a mile like any normal person would - like a good girl would - instead Alice had obediently sucked the cum off her finger. Even now, even though her disbelief, Alice could clearly recall its flavor, feel her body respond, her pulse racing and the butterflies in her stomach. She swallowed on reflex.

Oh fuck - come to think of it, Stacy had tasted Alice's nectar too. Alice had even seen how Stacy's pupils had dialated when she encountered the unexpected flavor of her pussy. An unbearable tide of shame washed over her, eroding something vital. Her rival tasted her - how could she let that happen? How should she feel about that? That was so naughty - it was not like her. Not like the nice girl she wanted to be. It was debauched, just like that porn she'd caught Tristan watching, but real. The desire was undeniable, as was her fear, knowing she shouldn't.

What might have happened if she had stayed? That was a dangerous, seductive thought. Maybe she'd have gotten to kiss Stacy again... yeah, some more of that would have been special. Even while Tristan watched... Or to be honest, preferably while he watched. Then Tristan would order her to lick his seed from Stacy's milky white breasts - all part of a day's work under him. She'd lick Stacy until her legs shook. She'd persevere until finally his thick cock approached her - no, as it approached Alice from behind. Maybe Alice would bend over and feel Tristan's hands deftly remove her jeans. Alice would thrust her tongue up into Stacy, mirroring the way Tristan's wonderful pulsating hardness stretched Alice's tight, slick...

A dozen alarms screeched their tinny renditions of popular tunes through the paper thin walls of her dorm. The noises around her began to pick up in frequency and volume until they were a muted roar. Doors opened and slammed. It was morning, she couldn't deny it, and it was time for her to wake up too. Her roommate mumbled in her sleep and turned over. Soon the only noises came from outside, the room a small quiet space, like she was hiding from something - everything.

Her heart leapt as the interruption gave her perspective. Her hand had somehow made its way to squeeze her left breast... why had it gone there? Alice, Alice - don't ask stupid questions. She knew why; she just didn't want to admit it. But it's not like she was going to masturbate or anything. Surely not - not to that, that wouldn't be normal. It'd be gross, wouldn't it? She...

To be honest, she'd been slipping again, as she'd done back in the library. How could this be acceptable? Why had she done that, why did she want more? Why did this turn her on so much? In her little fantasy just now she'd been about one thought away from getting pregnant before even graduating college, just like mom - she'd sworn she wouldn't. Alice groaned audibly, both frustration and arousal in her voice. The tides of her appetite washed into her moral center, then away - carrying little pieces of it out to sea. Eroding her concrete sense of right and wrong a little more as time passed. What had been so clear last night was less so now. Why did she have to like this so much? What sort of person did it make her? How would nice girls react? Surely with something other than the confusing civil war of lust and self-restraint.

Okay, so... What would she wear today? That was a safe topic, right? Her mind turned to her favorite blouse, which was... over there, hanging on the chair. She'd worn it last night. It had large dried and crusty patches from Tristan's... call it "evidence". Why had she chosen to put it on display, rather than with her other dirty clothing? It had quite a bit of evidence. That tasty - no, she meant terrible - stuff. She imagined she hadn't worn her blouse last night. Then it would have smeared all over her when Stacy's body met hers. Or better, she could have been in Stacy's place, then just like before Tristan's warmth would have covered her instead of Stacy. Then Alice could have offered Stacy her finger. Spread it over her. Defile her.

The heat underneath Alice's blanket grew as the fire inside her increased its intensity. Sweat beaded her body. She wiped drool from the corner of her mouth, feeling horrified at where her mind was going. What sort of pervert was she becoming? Whenever her attention slipped, Alice found her hand slipping down by itself. Sliding over her body, tracing her curves, her skin tingling in its wake. She pressed her thighs together, to deny herself access to her obvious target. Or was it because she desperately wanted, need to masturbate, and had been putting it off all night? She itched to touch herself, just for a second. She couldn't allow herself to masturbate over this - these feelings weren't her, they couldn't be. She could never let herself fall that far. She ruled out getting dressed. Better just to stubbornly stay in bed. Today was not happening. A write-off. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better, saner day.

She couldn't let them win. She tried to let her mind drift, to think about anything other than what had happened. The whole situation was very strange. Alice should hate Stacy. Stacy was just a prettier version of the high school friend who'd stolen her boyfriend and turned the school against her. Girls like that were all cut from the same mold. Sure Alice was attracted to Stacy - who wasn't - but why couldn't she just hate her? Come to think of it Alice wouldn't even have minded having been in Tristan's place, being the lucky person fingering Stacy. The one making her legs shake, making her contort her perfect face, melting the ice queen. Literally, if she'd really cum as hard as Alice remembered.

Alice snapped back to reality again. This was getting out of control. Alice found her hand cupping her sex, her fingers gently teasing her slit through the thin panties. She released herself, moved it away. She couldn't do this, her roommate could wake up any second - no, she didn't want this in the first place, she couldn't. Alice forced herself to grip her hip painfully, meaning to smother her growing lust. The pain of her fingernails digging into her sensitive skin made her gasp as she intended. But to her surprise that slight pain even felt... well not nice, but it definitely fanned the flames inside her. She applied more strength, and her nails pressed into her side so deeply she knew it would leave a mark. As that strange, almost sexual feeling raced through her, she couldn't suppress a sultry moan.

She winced - that had been really loud! She felt more than saw her roommate stir. She lay as still as a statue - though not one as pretty as Stacy, that bitch. Masturbating in the morning, with someone else right there - Alice wasn't normally the type of girl who did that. This was their fault, Tristan and Stacy. She'd fight the impulse, they'd never win. The minutes dragged on until she heard a snort, followed by deep breathing. She shuddered in relief, and felt guilt creep in. Her roommate was probably relying on her; Alice was normally pretty good about going to lectures. She trusted Alice. Big mistake. What would she think if she knew who Alice really was, what she'd seen, and done, and that she wanted more? She would be sickened. Appalled. Alice should have been too. But she wasn't. She wanted to kneel before someone, to cum like that, be covered like that. If that was Tristan's way of interviewing candidates then Alice wanted to repeatedly interview for several positions.

Was Alice a bad girl? Was she just a slut now? That was the name for a woman who wanted what she wanted. What woman would want to be wearing that collar, wearing those handcuffs, glazed with a guy's cum, having an orgasm so hard she lost all control? Squirting all over the place? Unbidden, her mind presented an answer for that - Alice, no, Stacy would want it, had done it. Alice didn't want it, she couldn't allow them that victory, but if she were Stacy, then... She'd want it intensely, repeatedly, immediately.

Come to think of it, objectively, this whole scenario was strange. Not Tristan and Stacy, they matched well enough - both socially adroit, the prom queen and the playboy - but the fetish angle was odd. Stacy must know that by doing what she did with Tristan, she was risking her towering reputation. As a role model, the spokesperson of the student body, a successful, empowered female entrepreneur. That perfect little life she had. It must be nice to be her.

In that way Alice and Tristan would have been a much better fit for the library bondage. If she were a slut. Unlike Stacy, Alice didn't have a lot to lose. No, Alice had none of that to risk. Alice could just put on her own - much more elegant - collar, without many people caring. She could sluttily do all the perverted, debased, slutty slut things she wanted - he wanted. She could put her collar on and go now, and it wouldn't even be newsworthy. She could continue the roleplay and act like his horny secretary - she'd love that. No, sorry - he'd love that. He would make her cum like he'd done before, like Stacy but much better, because she'd be a slut with nothing to lose. His slut, if he could tame her. She would cum unstoppably, like a freight train, Tristan would burst through any wall of morality or good behavior Alice tried to erect - and she would try hard. She could do it today. She could message him and go do it. She should do it right now.

Alice's fingertip entered her, stimulating the sensitive nerves around her opening, so slowly, yet inexorable as she pushed it in further. Her knuckles followed a second or a year later, both too fast and too slow for her. The feeling stretched, her fantasy disconnecting her from petty things like time. Her digit eased past her dewy opening, heading further inside her. One finger became two before she realized. Between one blink and the next they picked up their pace, moving urgently, their earlier furtive tiny motions unnecessary now that they'd reached their goal. She stopped resisting, and thrust them roughly inside herself. Her stomach fluttered. Alice's legs fell open and then shut tightly around her hand. Trying to stop them. Trying to push them further inside. Her lip curled in self-disgust even as her toes curled. Why did it feel so good?

If she went to Tristan now, she knew he would be very eager to oblige her. She couldn't let him win. She wasn't a slut, she couldn't be that. Not this easily. But if she did go, then within ten or hopefully two minutes her orgasm would tear through her, leaving her weak and trembling in the aftermath, and he'd hold her and it would be so good... She gripped her hip again, hard. Alice gasped aloud at the twinge of discomfort. That little thrill kicked her arousal up a gear. Who was she? How could she be getting off on this? This, on top of everything else?

Worst of all she just didn't care. She was finally doing something about that slow burning need inside which had spanned hours. Now she was aflame, a wildfire, impossible to quench, but she'd sure try her damndest. She'd been bad. She should have done this first. She should never have left the library. Now she was punishing herself.

She gasped as she felt her fingers slickly piston in and out of her pussy. Was she really just a worthless slut? A woman slaking her lust any way which took her fancy, without regard for morals or decency? She didn't care. She wanted it, she wanted it, she wanted it.

She was a naughty girl. Ms. Naughty. Perhaps Tristan was more perceptive than she gave him credit for. Had he anticipated all of this? He was winning. Why was she letting him win?

Her hand slapped her clit as she picked up the tempo, pounding out a frenetic beat on herself. She was grateful for the blanket, wished it was heavier so it masked more of the obscene squishy sounds she was making.

Whoever she was, she had to be quiet. She moaned again, wanton and needy. Alice crammed a hand into her mouth even as her other hand fed her hungry, needy pussy. She tried to muffle her moans as the fire rose up around her, trying to consume her. She bit the meaty part of her palm. That didn't help - it just made the feelings welling up inside her that much more intense.

"You slut" she hissed below her breath. "Alice, you dirty slut..."