Bound & Free Ch. 02

"This should cover the meal." he said, handing Hank the money he'd promised.

They all babbled at once.

"What's going on?"

"We weren't serious about you paying the cheque!"

"Trissy! It's Stacy, Trissy! She's actually touching you, you lucky dog!"

"Stop," Tristan said, with a quiet voice that nevertheless silenced all of them. "I have just one thing to say."

Tristan could feel the curiosity in the gaze of his shocked companions. He could even feel Stacy's own curiosity in the way her grip on him loosened, just for a second. Tristan started to apologize. This was part of doing things properly. If there was one thing Tristan did, it was to do things properly.

"I-I-I have t-to go now, so pl... plea..." come on, just say it, these people deserve an apology. Push through. "Please reschedule our interview with my secretary if you're still interested, Alice. The next candidate has arrived."

Tristan winced - that was so weird. This was happening more often now. He normally never spoke without planning what he was going to say. Ever since that moment in the closet with Stacy, sometimes, when he was under pressure, odd words just arranged themselves and fell out of his mouth, littering the place.

Stacy was first to react, yanking him away with a growl of fury, and around the corner, chased by the sound of his friends' laughter. He was surprised at that. Somehow, it felt like he'd won a kind of victory.

She rapidly marched them away from the entrance, down the corridor and into the restrooms. Reaching an accessible toilet stall, she threw him in, walked in herself, and slammed the door behind them.

"I hope you fucking enjoyed yourself." she hissed.

"I... I... I..."

"I I I" she mocked him. "You what?"

"I'm sorry for... tying you up, St-Stacy"

A short sharp breath, she hadn't been expecting that. Tristan didn't understand. Surely that was why she was here?

He looked down at the cracked floor of the restroom, unable to look at her directly. That's odd, for the floor in a place like this to be in such a state. For such a trendy place, a broken patch like this was just a shocking contrast. He'd let his mind wander again, filling the tense silence with nonsense. Maybe he should shake her hand, then he could look at her directly, rather than at the floor. Who was he kidding, this was Stacy, he'd never be able to make eye contact. Okay, maybe 'never' was wrong. After all, he did have her at his mercy in a broom closet earlier in the week. He struggled to suppress the smile which leapt to his face at the thought. That would be suicidal.

Suddenly she sighed deeply, long and drawn out, drawing his gaze. He took in her wet, mussed hair and unbuttoned coat. Her black, somehow elegant little black dress visible at the front. Her makeup, perfect at a distance, today had a couple of flaws this close-up. Was that normal? Her breath was doing interesting things to her cleavage in that low-cut... Down, boy, Tristan told himself. Stop caressing her with your perverted eyes. Pay attention if you want to survive.

But why hadn't she responded? He finally got up the nerve to glance at her face again, briefly. That was strange. Was it just him or did she look... less angry? Was she not upset about the other day? She looked lost. Confused, like she wasn't sure what to do next. Where had all that force gone, the drive which had wrenched him away from his date?

"That's not the point, Trissy. Ever since then I..." her voice dropped off, her eyes downcast.

There were a few moments of silence. A breath expanded to a minute, an hour, an eternity before Tristan realized she wasn't going to speak again at all. How weird. This whole situation was odd. She was a confident, domineering woman, who could make speeches on campus and hold court among her peers. Who was this speechless girl right now, looking so uncertain in his presence. Him, the bottom of the social heap, unworthy of even looking at her. He gathered his courage.

"I-if it's not that, then w... wh... why are you here?"

A look of confusion and doubt crossed her face.

"I-I don't know. This was a mistake. I don't even know why I..." she said, turning to leave.

Her hand reached the door

"Stop."

It was like a gun had gone off. Tristan and Stacy both froze. Who the fuck had said that? It couldn't have been him, right? But it must have been. He just wanted to get out of this in one piece, so why was he...

"I see, Stacy." Tristan's tone smoothed out, his fantasy persona snapping into place. "I know why you're here. You couldn't forget how you felt back then. You've come to ask me why you feel like this, but only you can answer that question. Why you can't stop thinking about it. Why you felt the way you did. Why it's... frustrated you. Taken over your desires. It's been going round in your head and you can't get it out."

Stacy's arms trembled visibly.

"It's obvious, why else would you be here, do what you did? But I can't tell you, no-one can. I can only show you. Would you like that?"

"... no..." she whispered, almost inaudible.

"The door is right there. And yet you can't step through. You won't. Prove me wrong. No? You shouldn't lie to your Master."

The silence was only disturbed by the hiss of water running to unknown destinations through the pipes in the walls.

"... wanted to ask." she mumbled.

Her cheeks were crimson with shame, it sounded like a confession.

"Impossible. How can I explain to you how you feel?"

Without turning around, Stacy slapped the restroom door in front of her, making a terrific noise.

"Of course you can! Because you fucking read my mind last time!" she shouted, finding her voice.

Tristan couldn't help himself, he laughed.

"Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? Mind control? Are you really the top student here? I think last time I explained my methods in some detail. Think, slave."

Stacy turned her head to glare at him. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak he interrupted her.

"About to shout some more? I'd urge you to reconsider, given what you want from me. I do not reward disobedient slaves."

She closed her mouth with an audible click.

"That's better. Now, would you like me to show you? Slave?"

Stacy's eyes narrowed and she turned away. She stepped toward the door. He couldn't deny he was a little disappointed, but it was for the best. Tristan sighed with relief, pulling himself back together as she left... Wait, why was she still here? Why was the door still closed?

A metallic click. She had locked the stall.

"Say it." Tristan exhorted, using every bit of his self-control to keep his tone even. Could she really... want that again?

She said nothing, the silence stretching out to minutes.

"I won't ask again. I will just leave."

"Fine! Fine. Do it." she exclaimed, loudly, then mumbled, "... tie me up or whatever."

So they were going to do this. Fine. If she wasn't willing to submit, then nothing would happen, but now she had? What happened would be on his terms. It would always be on his terms. He was the Master. If Tristan could have seen himself he would have seen an expression in his eyes no-one ever had before. His features took on a darkened, sharper edge.

Tristan stepped up behind Stacy so their bodies almost touched. She tensed, and he did nothing for a moment. He gently grabbed her shoulders as a reminder of what she'd just done to him.

He spun her around, her hair swishing as if she was in a shampoo commercial. She was stunning, even like this - wet, mussed and uncertain. She looked like she should be a movie star. In a penthouse, not in a restroom with him. He let go of her as if he'd been burned. Was it okay for him to be so close to her?

Stop. He wouldn't lose his nerve. He'd done this last time. He already had that t-shirt. She was here, a pristine canvas for him to dirty. He examined the expression of shock on her features. Her eyes searched his. For what, he didn't care. He had a job to do.

"I think..." Tristan growled.

He opened her coat further, his fingers brushing her exposed shoulders. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and he heard a gasp in her breath.

"... you mean..."

He grabbed both sleeves of Stacy's coat, pulling the thick expensive material down just enough so her forearms were trapped tightly. The ends completely enveloped her hands, like she was a child wearing her father's coat.

"...'Tie me up'..."

He reached around her waist, pushing her arms back with gentle yet irresistible pressure, and knotted the bottoms of her sleeves together behind her back.

"... please..."

He moved even closer, so their lips were inches apart.

"Master"

He slammed both his arms into the wall either side of her, making her jump in shock. Trapping her in an almost-embrace. A little spark of light held in his unworthy hands. With amusement, Tristan realized he was several inches taller than her, so she had to look up to meet his gaze. Fitting. She was normally so imposing speaking at events, the big woman on campus. Here, she was still herself, but she was human. She was his, for a time.

"Well? Any... does my slave care to share the results of the experiment? Do tell me what you're feeling." Tristan said, his lips almost brushing hers as he spoke.