Bound To Her Past Ch. 02

"Knock it off, go find some skank at bar if that's what you're after."

"Why would I do that, when I have a perfectly good skank right here? Pretty one, too." If it was possible, I felt myself burning an even brighter crimson. And once again, I was infuriated that he thought he could talk to me like this, tied up or not. I decided to just get straight to the point.

"Because you're sure as shit not getting it here. Not anymore." Whether, in fact, he believed he could get it here or not, I wasn't able to tell, as while I had hoped the statement would provoke him, it elicited so response. I imagined, though, he thought he could say whatever he wanted, or do whatever he wanted, for that matter, considering the exposed and helpless situation I was in. After all, a woman who's just had a man's hard dick rubbed unwillingly against her upturned ass isn't exactly in a position to tell that same man what he can or can't do, especially if that woman finds herself draped over a piece of furniture like she's ready and willing to be fucked from behind, complete with tits half ready to flop out of her shirt and hands conveniently tied inescapably behind her back. Both ways, easier access, right? I'm sure that's how he was thinking about it. And even I had to admit, I must have made for quite the lurid image -- sexual in the most inviting yet revolting way. Like when you're confronted with a situation where it would just be oh-so-easy to steal something; all you have to do is reach out and take it while no one is looking. I suppose this rather narrow rule involving boners, and rope, and ass kissing sky probably hasn't applied to that many other people, but in this time and place, it certainly felt appropriate enough for me.

After waiting several seconds longer, to see if he really wasn't going to say anything, or move his dick, I felt that I was the one who needed to make the next move. I was giving him all the power. Sure, I had walked into this without really thinking the whole thing through, but that didn't mean I had to keep letting him behave however he wanted. It was time to end this whole ridiculous thing.

"Okay, enough. I'm done with this." I felt like an insane person, constantly vacillating back and forth between a pleading and imperious note. However, trying to handle him flirtatiously, actually pleading with him like the coy ingenue he seemed so hungry for, or barking out orders at him like a total bitch, none of it had worked. I was just trying to land on something, anything, that would offer just a little bit of leverage. But none of it had worked. The two halves of my femininity, or at least what he probably imagined them to be, commanding warrior and demure lady, had failed me. Miserably. There was nothing else for it.

"Let me go NOW!" I actually shouted the last word, in a screeching sort of pitch that actually hurt my own ears. In addition, the stern way in which it erupted from me seemed to leave the words hanging in the air. Good. Let him think about that. Then...it came.

"Shut up." Those words, those short, simple words, stopped me dead. He had never dreamed of speaking that phrase to me before, not in all the many years we had shared with one another.

"Excuse me!?" I squeaked in a way that sounded hysterical even to me. I was incredulous, absolutely incredulous, certain that I must have somehow misheard him.

"I said shut up." Nope, there it was. Easy as that. I was apoplectic. I felt like I might literally explode with rage. My hands twisted angrily against the rope which bound them before I even had a chance to think about it, ready to actually strangle the life out of him once they were loose. But even my fury wasn't strong enough to pry her wrists free. God damn him. I would have to just settle for telling him what exactly I thought of him.

"How dare you talk me like that! Just who hell do you think you are!?" I spat, contemptuously. I had put up with so much from him. He had broken into my house, basically assaulted me, fondled me into submission, proposed this ridiculous idea which I had actually agreed to, and now he presumed to talk to me like this! It was unbelievable.

"You can either shut up, or I can make you shut up." I winced, and was really glad he couldn't see it from where he was standing. Well, I thought to myself, I certainly wasn't expecting that. That was definitely a new one. What did he mean he could make me shut up? Admittedly, it took me down a peg or two, more than I cared to admit; although, I was determined not to show it. I couldn't cede any ground, not now that it felt like I might finally be getting some of it back. At a minimum, I was now at least inciting a real reaction out of him. No more games. If I was going to be pissed, why shouldn't he be as well? He couldn't always be so calm and collected. I still had some of my tools at my disposal. Anyways, I was sure he was bluffing. As I said before, I was sure he would never actually lay a hand on me in a way that was intended to hurt. He wasn't that kind of person. He either didn't have it in him to carry it out, or was just too nice of a guy in general. Who really cared - it was the same result.

"Oh yeah?" I laughed brightly, hoping to mock him. To infuriate him. I tried turning my head around again, so he could see exactly how much I was belittling him. How much contempt I had for him. That his threats had no meaning, that they didn't scare me in the least. "You're gonna shut me up? That right? And how you gonna do that, big man?"

"I'll figure something out. Last warning." The words were flat. Cold. It wasn't a threat. Just a statement of what would happen if I didn't do exactly what he said. And he genuinely did not seem at all that perturbed by the way in which I was openly ridiculing him, which annoyed me all the more. That, in turn, also made me feel like maybe I should be the one who was concerned. Still, I didn't believe him.

"Go ahead, make me be quiet," I challenged him further. "I'd love for you to give it a try. Go on, see what happens. I'll scream. And someone will come and see the disgusting shit you've been up to, and you'll be in a fuck ton of trouble. Try explaining why you've got a girl done up like this, big man. Tied up. Bent over a couch. I'm sure you've got a really great excuse for all that. They'll call the fucking cops. Maybe it will be the fucking cops. You'll go to jail."

With that, he pulled away from me, and I finally felt his dick slide off of my ass. Through this all, though, this entire time, my butt was still sticking up in the air like some kind of trophy. Like his trophy. I think that had won, or more precisely, taken. Even I was starting to wonder if he was actually going to do something with his little prize or not, perched up like it was. Okay, not really. And being folded over like this was actually starting to make me feel dizzy. However, I couldn't really complain. Dick gone, that's all that mattered. Small mercies, at least; I was beginning to think it might sit there all day. Whoever thought I'd be so happy to see the backside of a penis? That man could keep a hard on, even when he had absolutely nothing to show for it, I had to give him that much. Although, I guess in this case, he did actually have something to show for it, weird as that might be. And for a brief moment, I believed I really had called his bluff. That he realized he couldn't keep me quiet, that he would have to untie me, and we would both try to forget this whole thing had ever happened. Of course, I was wrong. More wrong than I could have known. He had done some kind of...growing, or something, in the months we had been apart. He was different. I should have spotted it from the get go.

"Okay, go ahead and scream then," he said calmly. He truly seemed not to care, and this confused me.

"Are you sure you really..." And then, there was a brief pause, where for the first time, I felt neither of his hands on me at all. In the smallest of seconds, before I really had time to fully consider the implications of what was happening, this perplexed me even more. But then, as I tried to finish my final, taunting sentence, I suddenly felt his open hand slam into the back of my jeans. Hard. There was a moment or two where I was kind of just dumbfounded, paralyzed, both because I was shocked, and because I knew this was about to not feel so great. He had fucking spanked me! The fucker had actually spanked me! Like a child. Like in one those disgusting porn videos guys were so fond of. That was a new one. And this wasn't one of those light taps you might see the naughty housewife get in a 50's TV sitcom, either. No sir. He had straight up smacked my ass as hard as he fucking could. And holy shit did it hurt!