Bound & Free Ch. 06

"Oh yeahhh" she groaned, her bass notes a monster trying to burst out of her.

She felt the cliff approach, endlessly stretching out on either side of her. The drop was precipitous. What awaited her below was only an endless heat that would melt her into putty. The side-to-side movement of his tongue drove any semblance of sense from her mind. Yes - that was the fucking spot!

The air vanished from her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She'd forgotten how.

She could only stare at him with wide, shocked eyes.

Her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Fuck meeeeeeee!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She felt herself float off the edge of the world and plunge into the depths. She felt herself melt and be reforged, as the tides washed over her. It lasted a lifetime. The fires calmed, were consumed, dying to embers over eons. When it was finally over, the world felt different. Calmer. Safer.

Alice recovered slowly, completely enervated. Languidly, she tried to move, but her body felt like it weighed a ton. The first thing she felt was Tristan's hands pushing at her knees. Her legs had snapped shut, trapping his head against her.

She released him, and he gasped for air. Her ears hurt. Had she really screamed that loud? She tried to blush but couldn't muster the energy.

Then she heard the whoops and applause coming from outside the room, and this time she really did blush.

"I'm next after that bitch!" a female squeaked.

Tough, he's taken. As if Alice would let him go after this, even if just to keep him around for sex. Which they still hadn't done. She remembered Stacy and felt her joyful mood sour a little.

"Teach me Hank!" a man cheered.

Tristan, it was Tristan, Alice wanted to shout. But that would mean more whores to compete with, so she stayed silent.

She looked at Tristan to see how he was taking this. She took in his face, shiny with her cum. She observed the sheets beneath her, completely saturated, now closer to black than grey. Even the scent in the air had changed. Had she... did she squirt? How had she forgotten to mention that to him? Well, it didn't happen often so she wasn't expecting it, but... And some guys didn't care, but... what if he thought she'd peed herself?

She gave a little gasp of horror, and rapidly dressed, neglecting to remove the cosplay outfit she wore. Alice simply slipped her blouse and skirt on over it, and ran to the door. She tugged the makeshift barricade she'd made to one side, and unlocked the door.

"Say hi to Stacy for me." she said, and fled, like a thief into the night.

How did this happen? She thought as she fled down out of his dorm, her face dark with embarrassment. This wasn't the first time she'd ended up in a situation and wondered how she'd gotten there. It was the first time sexually, sure, but ignoring that little fact, this wasn't even the first weird scene this week. Why did she keep ending up in unbelievable circumstances?

She paused in the entrance to his dorm, her hand on the wall as her legs shook. Despite everything she couldn't help remembering that orgasm, both those orgasms. Right now. In public. She almost fell as pleasure filled her mind. Her flush wasn't entirely from embarrassment.

"Girl, are you okay?" A man asked, touching her shoulder.

She shook him off abruptly, before giving him an apologetic smile. She stepped out into the night. Alice could still smell Tristan's cum over her body. Feel the accusing chains of the clothing she'd run off with. The shame of losing control so utterly she'd squirted all over his face and bed. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he thought she was a sick freak.

Maybe Stacy was better for him. She was sure little miss perfect didn't have these problems.

~~~~

Late that night, after Alice had fled, Tristan stared up at the dark roof of his dorm room, awake in the darkness. He'd finally gotten it cleaned up after Alice's orgasms. He felt inordinately proud of himself, so of course his negative thoughts had flooded in. They were chasing one another round and round his head, simultaneously exhausting him and keeping him awake. Was Alice really interested in him romantically? Of course she was, obviously. No, it wasn't possible; as she left she'd said 'say hi to Stacy'. Anyway, how was it that he had two women actively seeking him out?

He'd been a single virgin all his life. Did he only have to show a little bit of confidence and potential partners would flock to him? The realization was like a slap in the face. All this time he could have been... Should he just have gone around asking random women if he could tie them up? No, that was ridiculous. He'd be arrested in the first half hour. Besides, if he asked Alice that she'd probably run a mile. Wouldn't she?

Being a burdened with a male brain, he allowed himself to imagine, for one, dangerous second. He practiced all the perverted things he'd been reading about with Stacy. With Alice. With both women at once. It was a hot but pointless daydream. He laughed. It was funny, not arousing - a painting in ridiculous colors. Things would never get that far. It could never be real. If he dared to hope he was just going to get his fingers burned; he'd learned that from experience. But that kiss...

Hope kindled regardless. This was all just timing, rationally he recognized that, in as much as any of this made sense at all. It was a combination of the situation and the woman's mindset at the time. Tristan knew for a fact that he wasn't a socially acceptable partner for either of these women, the waiter the other night had reminded him of that if nothing else. The mirror every morning reinforced it, with Hank's help. He was just the stand-in until the girl met someone more worthy, someone else they could have a happy future with. He knew the sub was ultimately the one in power. It was their story, their experience, he was just the vehicle. Sentient, with GPS, extra-tight seatbelts and vibrators as standard, loving every second while it lasted.

Still, he couldn't extinguish that little spark of hope inside him. Laying there in the dark his heart nursed a small flame, illuminating a minuscule part of a future he wouldn't dare put into words.

Before he could get really depressed, Tristan's cell announced he had a message. More specifically, it played the battle victory tune from an old RPG. On the other side of the room, Hank groaned and pulled a pillowcase over his head. As Tristan fished his phone out of his pocket, he reminded himself to change that as soon as possible if he ever wanted to get laid. The whole finding a woman who was into the real him bit his parents kept on about was trite saccharine nonsense.

"We need to talk." it said.

He checked the message details. It was from a number he didn't have in his contacts. Perhaps that should have been obvious - he didn't have very many.

"Do I know you?" he sent.

His phone played the happy little tune again, ripples in the silent blackness.

"It's Stacy. Come to the library. NOW!!!" she replied.

A pillow hit him in the face.

"Trissy! What the hell, bro! Stop your begging or groveling or whatever. I get you're pent up but go to fucking sleep." Hank groaned, "Some of us have, like, a life to deal with in the morning."

"Sorry H-H-Hank." he stuttered.

He put his phone on mute as the volume of his thoughts increased. What on earth could Stacy possibly want from him? She was still undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, why would she want to meet him at night? Another little rendezvous? No, the library was a public place, after what had almost happened in the restaurant she couldn't possibly want to expose herself to the risk of being caught again. Not like last time.

"How did you get this number?" he typed, before deleting it. "Okay, I'll be the..." He couldn't even finish writing that one. Weak, fucking weak. A wave of disgust flowed through him.

A new message arrived. Silently, this time.

"I can see you typing!" she wrote.

Okay, Tristan thought. You are learning all sorts of things about yourself today. What was with that reaction he'd had to looking weak? That's the second time that had happened today. Why did he feel such revulsion at the mere idea of breaking the tone of his interactions with Stacy? Perhaps this was normal? Did people posture like this all the time?

His fantasy persona had carried him this far, so why not double down? Thinking about it, in the last couple of weeks, it was paying out the biggest dividends he'd ever seen. Maybe it couldn't hurt to raise the stakes.

"Make it worth my while." he wrote. Sent.

Wait - what the fuck was that Tristan? That's super gross! You don't ask a woman for...

"..." she was typing. She'd stopped. Oh no...

She was typing again. She stopped.

The suspense was killing him. She couldn't be writing something short. Unless she was having as much trouble as he was writing the message. Tristan assumed other people didn't have his impediments, based on watching Hank. What could she be writing for so long? He stared at those three dots for ages. Was she sending him a novel? A restraining order? A detailed list of her sexual preferences? What was it? Whatever it was couldn't be worse than the tension of waiting. He resisted messaging her. That wouldn't be consistent with the personality he'd adopted.

Finally, an interminable lifetime later, he received her message. Just 4 words. 5 if you want to be anal about it.

"Are you serious? Asshole." there was an angry face at the end.

"Goodnight." he sent, then locked his phone and put it back on his nightstand.

He regretted it the moment he laid down again. No, Tristan, he told himself. If you so much as touch that phone you will fuck all of this up. You have a role she's expecting you to play.

Almost 30 minutes later he received another message. Who was it - idiot, of course it was Stacy, she was the only person who had sent messages to him tonight. The only person in the last week. Tristan's Master persona dictated he wait until the morning; his slave had been rude. Nonsense - as if he could muster that level of self-control! He picked up his phone within seconds.

"F-I-N-E. What do you want?" she'd written.

He was instantly erect. She'd given in to him, yet again. The bargain was struck. Now it was just a negotiation they both knew was unnecessary. Of course they would meet regardless. This stage was purely about giving her permission to explore her feelings, to decide what she wanted to in the first place. It was up to her.

"Send nu..." no fucking way. Both against his moral code and too needy. Plus that wasn't the point, it had to be her idea, and he didn't know her well enough to demand the right thing. No, he had something better. Something which would drive her crazy. He copied his message from earlier. Paste.

"Make it worth my while." he sent again. A little uncertainty would do her good, and her response would let him gauge just how far she was willing to go.