Bound & Free Ch. 02

In which our heroine realizes she has new, unwelcome appetites.

Author's vanity note: If you've read this far, thank you! I think I owe you a little plot. Onward! You call that thing last time a chapter? THIS is a chapter!

~~~~

It should have been a perfect pairing. He was Ryan, regal, ripped, rampant Ryan, the star quarterback of their college team. He was going to turn pro football as soon as he got his degree, already had a couple of scouts interested in him. Steroid free, so he claimed, but with the equipment to back it up. She was the gorgeous babe killing it socially, personally, academically, with family connections like a fractal spider web expanding infinitely - you name it. So why was she feeling so... empty?

Ryan was rutting above her, grunting like some pig in heat. She felt the length of his cock in her pussy, pounding her, hitting all those familiar spots. With the rhythm she'd painstakingly trained into him. Sure, she was reacting, biologically, after a little persuasion, but in a very muted way. Nothing had quite managed to get her "there" for the last few days. It was driving her crazy, eating away at her focus, and that couldn't be allowed to happen. Ryan was meant to be the medicine. He was making a reasonable effort but couldn't quite get her the touchdown she'd set him up for. Pity, but as a quarterback he was more used to passing so maybe he needed a little help... But she wasn't that kind of girl though, so a threesome was right out... she realized she'd gotten distracted again.

With an effort of will, she focused, and it was okay for a bit. She felt her arousal build... then suddenly it was gone just like before. It rushed away like someone had pulled out the plug. She groaned in frustration.

"You like that, babe?" he misinterpreted.

Ryan smiled at her in a way that would have had all the cheerleaders swooning. Those useful but dumb sluts, she'd trained a few of them too. She let her mind wander. Maybe this meant it was time to try one of them out again? Being with the same sex wasn't cheating right? She realized that was a lie even as she thought it, but desperate times... Besides, it wasn't like she was going to do it, she was just giving herself permission to fantasize a little. To overlay a girl on Ryan.

Imagine this guy with the body of a Greek god was a goddess instead. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Her strap-on pumping Stacy's hungry cunt. The straps tied tightly around the girl's butt, digging into her skin, holding her gently but firmly like a lover's caress. Maybe she'd add a blindfold, too, that'd be kinky, and maybe something in her mouth... fuck was that jealousy she was feeling? Regardless, this wasn't working. Ryan needed to go; if he wasn't helping he was in the way.

"Get off, Ryan. Stop! Get off I said!"

"Fuck! Shit! Why? What's your problem, Stace?" he complained as he shifted his bulk to the side of the bed.

"Sorry I'm just not feeling it. There's something missing."

His face was a slideshow of emotion. Shock, then worry, and finally anger.

"No, it's not a penis thing." She explained before he made a fool of himself.

He stopped, his confused face as handsome as his grin. She liked the former a little more. Men - always so predictable, so obvious. Her mind played a memory, betraying her. Most of them were, she amended. This was how boys were supposed to behave around her. Things were back as they should be. She suppressed a smile.

"I just need some time to think."

Now is your cue, Ryan - off you go.

"Babe I was so close, couldn't I just..."

Fuck. Stacy thought she'd trained this out of him back at the start of their relationship.

"What?" she shouted, furious, "Didn't I just say I needed to think about things? What am I, that you can just climb on top of me whenever you want? Wake up. I'm not your fucking sex toy, available whenever you're ready."

"Calm down Stace - I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

Clearly he needed more training, but not quite a lost cause. He better grovel if he wanted to have sex with her again. But he could figure that part out himself.

"Ah, so you do know what 'No' means after all. Now get out, dickhead!" she shouted at him.

Stacy stood up, threw his shorts at him, and gestured imperiously to her door. Her commanding bearing was utterly undiminished by her nudity. It was unfair to him, but so what? He was lucky to be with her and he'd come crawling back as soon as he realized that. Just like before. Meanwhile she'd have some space to try and work out her problem. She and Ryan had a great future in store, of that she was certain. As he slammed the door, she threw herself on her bed and sighed again in frustration.

She closed her eyes, and just drifted for a moment. Focus on your breath... Empty your thoughts... meditate. Against all her efforts she eventually found herself back in that closet, a few days ago. Her hand found its place at the apex of her legs as she recalled the sounds and feelings and tingling feeling. She felt ashamed, using this memory, this humiliation, but she was getting desperate. Touching herself, she tried to chase her orgasm and... fuck, it was gone again. Maybe if she...

Stacy sat on the floor, her legs folded underneath her. Though she normally liked to watch herself, she closed her eyes tightly. That was better. She already felt sexier. She put both her hands behind her back. That felt great, felt right. It felt familiar, but she ignored that part, she had a job to do. She had to scratch an itch, so to speak. Unable to use her hands, she improvised. She rubbed the heel of her foot against her hungry clit.

"Mmm" she moaned, getting into it.

Stacy worked her hips back and forth in little, urgent motions. She quickly built herself back up to the point she'd been at before with Ryan, and to her joy she passed it. So this is what her body had been looking for. She found her climax approaching. The wave crested and sent electricity throughout her body. As it washed over her and her juices soaked her thighs, she tried to moan, but couldn't. She realized that at some point she had stuffed her comforter into her mouth. Like she'd been gagged. That was normal, right? Fuck.

This was a problem. She had to face facts, her parents wouldn't raise an idiot (as they kept telling her). It appeared she had some kind of fixation now. She could barely cum without it. The source of it was obvious. That fucking sissy loser Trissy had done something to her. Tristan the timid, the terrible, the talente... twisted. Whatever. She had to sort this out. Immediately.

Well... perhaps immediately could wait a little while, she decided. Whatever her feelings about it, Stacy was a rational woman. Scientifically, if it worked, it worked, and she had a lot of stress to work out. Emptying her mind, she bit down on the comforter and started rocking her hips again, grinding her pussy on the heel of her foot, the wetness from her last orgasm slowly cooling on her thighs. She felt the delicious heat slowly build to another peak inside her...

~~~~

If he focused, even for a second, Tristan could still feel the impression of Stacy's nipple on his finger. The days that had passed hadn't done anything to erode the memory. Rigid, yet soft, obvious despite the layers of clothes she wore, silently begging for his touch. On each breeze he could hear an echo of her moan, her short staccato breaths a wordless narration of her thoughts, exhorting him to continue. When he closed his eyes, he saw her bound, tamed. For him. The body of Venus herself, awaiting his orders.

Now he had that all loaded in his mind, it was of course time in his little mental ritual for him to add that final, perfect cherry on top. The moment Stacy surrendered. It was her sweet voice asking him that question when he released her. It was unsolicited, it was begging for more, it was perfect. 'Why did you...'

"Why do you have that stupid grin on your face?"

"Huh?"

"Tristan, you've been wearing that stupid face for the last few days and to be honest? It's creeping me out, bro."

"So... sorry Hank" he apologized to his roommate.

"Well I'm happy for you, but I'm not used to you looking so... whatever that was."

"Happy?"

"If that's what you'd call that. Anyway, I've got a surprise for you. It's a bajillion times better than whatever you were celebrating - that, I dunno, game completion, superhero comic, D&D win or whatever. I ain't even playing, you're going to be ecstatic with what I have for you."

"What is it?"

"Seriously, put all those things I said together, add in some awesome, blow it up and you still haven't touched the sides of how happy this is gonna make you. You'll owe me one forever..."

"Hank, what IS it?"

"You know Emily?"

"Who?"

"You know, the girl I go out with Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

"Marsha?"

"No! She's Miss Saturday. Bitches hate each other's guts, don't get them mixed up if you wanna live. I swear, you don't pay any attention to me. Real talk, that's one big life mistake you're making right there."

"You're disgusting." Tristan said, meaning it. "You want me to distract Marsha while you do whatever with Emily?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." Hank replied, without missing a beat, "And no way Marsha would want to hang out with you. You're my friend and all so I'm gonna be brutally honest; Marsha and Emily are out of your league. Different horses for different courses, remember that, Trissy, and pick the right horse, one more your level. Which brings me to the point!"

"Finally." Tristan muttered.

"I heard that. You're gonna be kissing my ass in a second. Anyway, through my boundless charm and seductive grace," he said, throwing up a pose, "I've gotten Emily's girlfriend to agree to go out with you."

"What?"

"I know, I know, I'm the best, but don't go celebrating yet, it's not like she's gonna ask for your v-card" he laughed at his own joke.

"But I don't even know who..."

"Who cares, the name isn't important. Look, just throw on a shirt and do the best you can with that face, and we'll go out to meet them."

"Wh... why do I hang out with you, Hank?"

"You have no other choice?" he said glibly.

Tristan pulled a face and brandished his middle finger.

"C'mon man, don't wimp out, I need you on this one!" Hank whined like a small child. "She's almost ready to let me do it in her..."

"Stop, please, I beg you. Preserve my innocence." Tristan said facetiously.

It was an inside joke between them. Somehow Hank had pried out a tiny part of his closely-held secret. Tristan had hidden, kinky tastes - but that was as much as Hank knew. Probably Hank thought he only liked 2D women or something. Hank's favorite pastime was to get Tristan drunk and talk about past loves and lusts. Tristan never had much to contribute, but he had fun listening to what, for the sake of his sanity, he chose to believe were tall tales.

Hank wasn't a complete idiot (just mostly), so he didn't only talk about himself, and was forever finding sneaky ways to get Tristan talking. Sure he was abrasive, disrespectful, a playboy, unreliable, terrible at studying... wait, wasn't there supposed to be something positive on this list? Well, uh... they were friends. They'd been sharing this room for what felt like years, Tristan liked the guy despite himself, and most importantly? Tristan was always one to stay in his comfort zone. It doesn't sound great, but he'd fight to stay there, where he felt safe.

"O-okay, if you need my help. When do we have to go?"

"We're already late! They were expecting us like 30 minutes ago."

Tristan swore under his breath as he threw on some clothes. Hank's grin grew wider. If felt like the man-child was doing this on purpose, trying to get Tristan to speak up and crap like that. Or maybe he was just irresponsible. Or both.

"I'm ready."

"You call that... well it will have to do, we gotta go. I promised we'd be on time."

They left their dorm and headed to the big sushi chain restaurant just off-campus. Tristan mentally reviewed the contents of his wallet and began to regret coming at all. It would have to be ramen and canned tuna for the rest of the month after this.

"Hey ladies! My, don't you both look stunning. Don't they look incredible, Trissy?"

"I..."

"Sorry we're late, Tristan just couldn't leave without matching his purse with his shoes. Then of course he had to change his outfit. It was a nightmare. The sooner I can get him married off and out of the house, the better."

They tittered politely at Hank's joke while Tristan glared at him. He wasn't a violent man, but even a passive guy like him would snap if... Who was he kidding, he'd never do anything.

"S... sorry." Tristan stuttered, accepting the blame.

As he always did.

Still too shy to even look in their direction, Tristan stuck out his hand, like his parents had taught him. The girls just gaped at the hand in confusion, as if they'd never seen one before. Emily was the first to react - she'd met Tristan before.

"Hey, Trissy" Emily grasped his hand and gave him a limp handshake with only a little awkwardness.

"H-hey" he stuttered a little.

Okay so it was a little formal, but he did this every time he met a pretty girl. Their confusion was actually what he wanted. It was Tristan's fix for one of the social faults he'd been struggling with for years. You see, he couldn't make eye contact with women. Yes, really - an irrational fear overcame him and forced him to look away. With this, when he offered someone a handshake, their initial confusion masked his awkwardness and by the time they eventually shook his hand, he was able to nail the eye contact portion of the interaction.

After he'd shaken a lady's hand, through some fucked-up logic his brain refused to explain to him, he could subsequently look at the woman normally for the rest of the day. Weird? Definitely. Tristan knew that. But it was far, far better than staring at the floor for the entire evening. He knew more floors than he did people. He was proud of himself for coming up with this solution to a problem which had plagued him since puberty had injected its venom into him.

"Alice." the other girl introduced herself hesitantly, taking his hand next. "Nice to... meet you? God I feel like I'm being interviewed!"

"Tristan." Tristan nodded at her politely.

He felt that little push again, the one he'd felt with Stacy.

"You're through to the second round." he added, without thinking.

He winced at his own words; what a cheesy line. What the hell was going on on down in the QA department? Fortunately Emily and Alice laughed, a real laugh this time.

"Come on then, Boss." Alice joked, smiling at him. "As you're the big cheese I guess you're paying the cheque?"

"I... I..."

Come on, Tristan! Just say anything! You want to lose this moment too?

"It will depend on your performance." he managed.

"Oooh!" Emily and Alice cooed, giggling.

The girls were still laughing as they entered the restaurant, Tristan holding the door open of course, per his parents' coaching.

They sat down on the benches which passed for seating here, girls facing boys across the table. They smoothly resumed speaking and before he knew it, they'd all ordered and Tristan actually managed to play his part, playing his part in a light, flirty conversation. They were still harmonizing, avoiding those lame first date questions even as the food arrived, and was cleared away. If not for one thing, this would have been the start of Tristan's life with Alice. The start of dating, the the obligatory breakup, a tearful reunion, marriage, children, growing old in each other's arms. This isn't that story. That may or may not be the ending, you'll have to wait and hopefully we'll get there (if this author isn't as bloody useless at finishing a story as Tristan was at... well, life. Fingers crossed. If Tristan can improve, so can anyone, surely).

But you see Tristan had set something in motion outside of the normal plan, so his life was about to deviate from that course. Something in motion which was approaching his dorm now. The rapid click-clack of her black heels were her fanfare, the swish of her long fashionable coat like robes of office and her face? Like a Valkyrie coming to exact vengeance, storm clouds and flashes of lightning. As if in sympathy, the overcast skies began to weep, perhaps for a future which, once she found him, would be forever changed.

"... and so I said 'which one'?!" Tristan finished with a flourish.

"Aha ha ha ha!" Alice laughed, touching his hand for just a moment. "That's SO awkward! Tristan, I can't believe you could be that clueless!"

Emily and Hank laughed too, more restrained, both wearing a slightly shocked expression. Hank being Hank, he understood his girlfriend's silent question.

"Don't look at me, I'm wondering who this guy is and what he's done with my roommate." Hank quipped, and Emily slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm joking, babe. In all seriousness, Alice, I've never seen Trissy this relaxed - you must bring out the best in him!"

Alice blushed, exchanging an inscrutable look with Emily.

"Well I've decided I do really want to... apply for this position." Alice said, meeting Tristan's gaze.

Tristan, unfortunately, wasn't equipped for this. He could feel that was his cue, and the pressure to respond clashed with his uncertainty. Paralyzing him. What should he say? To make things more complex, Alice leant over the table, putting her face close to his. Tristan froze up completely.

"What do you say, Boss." her voice husky with something Tristan couldn't identify. "Do I get the job?"

The moment of silent anticipation stretched out. The unspoken possibilities swirled between them in the air, the almost tangible chords of what could happen playing out the music of a love, a life. All he had to do was add his voice to it - now - and the melody would start to play; dating, engagement, marriage. Perhaps in a parallel world he did, and the pretty little melody of their love was added to the songbook of the world. But this is a different story. It was not to be. Let's change the tune.

"Hey!"

A new voice, musical as it was, struck a discordant note. It shattered the intimate atmosphere into tiny pieces. In its own way it was perfect timing, what with everyone anticipating the next verse it surprised the would-be couple and their audience more in that moment than it could have in any other. It was a crescendo of an entrance.

Without further warning, a heavy weight descended on Tristan's shoulders, almost tipping him over on the bench. Like someone had added a boulder to a backpack. A pair of hands gripped Tristan's shoulders, long nails digging deeply into his flesh. So hard that the slightest additional pressure would draw blood.

"The 'boss' will have to... get back to you on that" Stacy said coolly. "If he's still alive." She growled, under her breath.

With a strength Tristan didn't think she had, Stacy hauled him to his feet and away from the table. Tristan almost felt relieved. The hammer he'd been expecting had finally fallen, and - bonus - it had gotten him out of an emotionally-charged situation he had no confidence he'd have resolved successfully.

"Tristan?"

"Is that... Stacy?"

"How the hell do you know Stacy, Trissy?!"

Maintaining her iron grip on his shoulders, Stacy began to march Tristan away. After a couple of steps, against every instinct he had, Tristan stopped, and turned his head. Stacy actually hissed in anger, tightening her grip on him. Her nails actually pierced his skin. He winced in pain, a few little pinpricks of blood now stained his shirt on his left shoulder. That didn't matter. Tristan knew some things needed to be done properly. His parents had taught him that.