Gentle reader - The (negotiating) tables have turned. You tell me: Something for everyone... or two *
entirely
different audiences, LOL? Inquiring minds want to know. Drop a Comment and I'll be grateful. Regards,
~P.M.
Disclaimers: Bondage is tricky; best not to get too ambitious unless both top and bottom know what they're doing. The following contains Non-Consent, D/s, bondage, humiliation, corporal discipline, and race-play. Have fun.
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(Previously on
Binding Arbitration:
)
Once her hands are free, the first thing Vik does is take the cigarette out of her mouth and pass it back to my lips. The second thing is, she starts unbuckling her collar.
Her eyes a little dreamy and looking off past me, she gives a soft little, uplifted sigh... then says:
"Cash."
BINDING ARBITRATION
PART THREE
"CASH," VIK SIGHS, repeating herself while I am untying her left leg. She is sitting kind of side-saddle on the edge of the desk. Slightly twisted to her right, one leg freed and dangling over the edge. The other getting uncinched and unlooped by me.
I heard her the first time. I need to resettle myself a bit - into the state of
negotiation
, where we seem to be headed, out of the state of
fucking
we were in moments before. Vik, apparently, has already made the switch, damn her. I don't reply.
She has the collar in her hand, holding it up to her face and regarding it thoughtfully. Cheap leather, a plain black store-bought dog collar with a simple D-ring. Yet so heady to her, judging from her eyes, perhaps because it *
is
simple and store-bought and meant for a pet... and therefore, degrading to her to have worn it and felt its control. I think I'll give it to her as a souvenir.
Once I'm done untying her leg, freeing her completely, I let the rope twirl and pool impotently to the carpet. I give her a friendly smack on the thigh with the flat of my hand. She doesn't seem to notice; I'm guessing, compared to the lively cropping she suffered earlier, this latest swat was fairly anticlimactic.
Vik presses her palms to the desktop and fairly springs to her feet. Absently, she turns away from me, shaking out the stiffness in her knees, looking out the windows. At her friend and ally - the clear, brilliant sunrise over the Bay...
I take that opportunity to gawk at her body. It occurs to me, since she stripped, this is the first time I am seeing nude-Vik standing. Upright, curvy and sexy, and - in spite or
because
of the grooved rope-marks patterning her limbs and chest - her body is a breathtaking sight. She is medium height, maybe 5'6" - but now I am thinking, if she were another five or six inches taller, Viktoria James would be a true Amazonian force of nature, before whom no man - even me? - could stand.
Mentally, I compare the sight of the naked and
upright
Vik with visions of her nudity before - kneeling, crawling, roped-up and balanced on her ass - and I'm hard-pressed to pick a favorite. The dominant in me would waver between which was most vulnerable or humbled... but the
man
in me, well, he likes what he sees right here.
"Hey, don't forget the mirror over there," I say with a smile.
"Hm?"
"You might want to check out the rope-marks, you know - not to mention those pretty whip-blossoms I left on your backside, before they fade." I add graciously, "The door to the left is the washroom. It may interest you to know, there's a shower in there."
My generosity has an ulterior motive, though: Before we start in on the trivial details of our settlement, I mean to divert her while I re-assume my position of authority, behind the desk in my Captain Kirk chair. Maybe put on a fresh tie. In command, and clothed. Perversely, I have formed a plan: Once she comes back to the desk, she'll assume she can redress, too - but I'll tell her, '
No, Vik, you negotiate in the nude, until you drop your silly 'straight-cash' demand. So, have a seat, counsel.'
I know, I know - the game is over, so she isn't obliged to obey, and no doubt she knows it, too. But just to see, you know, what happens.
Seeing Vik moving in the direction of the mirror, I turn to go around my desk - presuming she is taking me up on my hospitality.
I presume wrong.
*CLIK*
I feel the steel bite and ratcheting rasp of the handcuff as it snaps onto my left wrist, and the tug of Vik's strong hand pulling my arm back toward her. I respond defensively, swinging around in that direction, right arm leading. Meaning to wrap her up in a bear hug, before she can put the second cuff in play. But she is a blur, ducking, evading my counterattack - her falling weight twisting me off-balance, sideways -
"
Hey -!
"
Vik has dropped to the floor, and, executing a sort of
capoeira
move - sweeps her leg horizontally, slamming her shin across the backs of my knees - same time, her weight drags downward on the cuff, and I collapse forward onto my knees -
*OOOF!
- and my cuffed left wrist is ratcheted to my right ankle -
what the fuck!
Next, foot to my back, Vik kicks out her leg and body-slams me chest-down into the carpet -
*OOOF!
- the wind knocked of me, disoriented.
Next, the weight of her heel leaves my back, and I hear her bare footsteps whisper across the carpet. Not quite understanding the half-hogtie position my body is in, I try to get my two unshackled limbs underneath me - get up off the floor, onto my knees - something. Instead, hobbled and disoriented, I just sort of thrash and flop on the carpet like a landed fish.
Not for long, either. She returns a moment later, jamming a knee into my lower back, muscling me back down into the rug. "
Uhgghh -!
"
"
Hold still, bitch
!" she warns.
Turning my head, cheek ground into the carpet, I see her crouching beside me, a bare, muscular leg, knee braced on the carpet - a glimpse of her hand picking up her white silk bow tie. Next, I feel her pinning my elbows together, wrapping and tying them up with her own neckwear - like I did earlier to her. I am grunting, physically frustrated, feeling my freedom slipping away from me.
She
can't
be doing this - is she serious? "
Uhnnhh,
Vik, now let's -"
"Shut up!"
Knotting the elbow-tie, she leaves me in a functional, though annoyingly awkward, asymmetric sort of hogtie. Elbows tied together, my arms are effectively bound, even with one un-cuffed hand wiggling free. One leg is loose, too, but I can tell, it has no leverage to do anything... well, useful.
So I don't give her the satisfaction of trying. I settle down. I give it another go, "Um, Viktoria -?"
"Didn't I say shut up, Frank?" She gets her strong hands get under my front, and seemingly without effort, rolls me onto my right side. Facing her. Looking up, I see her crouching beside me - still naked, but smiling with self-satisfaction.
"Well," she smirks, "How's that shoe feel, on the other foot?"
"All right, Viktoria, all right," I say, trying to sound composed, but probably failing. "Game's over, don't you think?"
"No," she replies flatly, "I don't think so, Franklin, I really don't..."
"Please, let's be reasonable -"
Without answering, she rises and disappears around my desk. When she comes back, she's got my necktie in one hand and her pale-blue panties in the other - that is, the hand which is working between her legs, sopping up her juicy arousal with her undies. I can see now, the thrill of tying me up has re-fired something in that "hot belly" she was talking about. But I think
this
fire is something else...
"I warned you," she sneers. "Since you won't shut up, I'll have to do it for you."
"Vik -?"
Leaning in, she grabs my hair with one hand, jerking my head back - with the other, she wads the damp, salty-tasting satin into my open trap. "Wait -
mmmmph!
" Grasping my jaw in one hand, thumb securing the gag in my mouth, she draws the necktie between my teeth, wraps it twice around my head, and makes a bow in front - knotting it tight.
"
Nnn-NNGH!
" I complain.
Not wasting any time, she moves on to undoing my belt and fly, yanks my pants and drawers down my thighs, then re-buckles my belt just below my knees... So much for the one free leg, however useless anyway. Next, she pulls up my shirt-tails, exposing my junk. Finally, she shows me the plain, cheap store-bought dog collar -
not that
- and I feel her circle the leather band around my neck, tight at the throat, and buckle it in back.
All that done, she sits back. Catching her breath, she winks at me. "No, its not over... pet."
Satisfied with herself, she rises to her feet, looking sprightly and self-possessed. I appreciate the irony: This time, it's the naked woman who's standing tall over the clothed, but conquered, male. Again she disappears around my desk. Since I'm immobilized behind it - just a few feet away from my so-called seat of authority - I can't see where she goes or what she does.
But soon enough, I hear it: She is taking a shower. So I wait. Not much else I can do. I would twiddle my thumbs, but at the moment, they can't reach one another.
When she finally returns, a good twenty agonizing minutes later, she is putting on her earrings as she strolls around the corner of my desk. She has redressed. Black pumps on her feet, skirt straight, blouse tucked in,
sans
bow. Necklace and bangles in place, stockings smoothed up her shapely legs. Makeup refreshed. She even has her glasses back on. Same as it was all day.
Well... not wearing her blazer. Or her panties, come to think of it.
And, tucked under one silk-clad arm, she has my riding-crop. Gracefully, she reclines on the carpeting in front of me, curls her legs under her, one hand propped on the floor. I see her hair is dry, so she must have located the shower caps in the cabinet. Her face is still flushed from the hot brace of the shower, her cheeks and eyes bright. She is smiling, looking relaxed. She lays the whip gently across her lap.
"
Nnghh?
"
Cheerfully, she picks up where she left off. "No, Franklin, this game's not over until I decide it is. I mean, who's got the final say here, really? The proud, educated, well-dressed black woman who can advocate for her views, articulate meaningful arguments - you know,
speak
?"
She
boops
my nose. "Or the hogtied, white boy-toy with someone else's panties in his mouth?"
"
Mmphh!"
I grunt defiantly.
