Don't Be Shy 6 (Patreon)

Kara woke late at night, the windows dark. Few sounds made it through the thick walls of an upper-class dwelling, but she recognized the tenor of the city at rest. It disquieted her. One of the few positives of unemployment was that she’d grown used to staying up late, if she wanted, and sleeping in. At least late enough that it was fully dawn by the time she was awake.

It bothered her to be this well-rested at this time of night. She wondered if it was insomnia. A guilty conscience, maybe.

She had had sex, not for the first time in her life, but for the first time not as part of a relationship, any romance. It was almost anonymous, completely transactional… no, not completely.

Lena might’ve paid to begin what had happened—the money sat on the nightstand, reassuring and discomforting Kara in equal measure—but Kara imagined Lena saying they could stop, at any point in the action before Kara’s orgasm. Kara wouldn’t have cared about the money then.

She knew Lena had a taste for making her submit, far beyond the supplication of taking Lena’s money and accepting Lena’s touch. Kara wondered if the woman knew that she could’ve made Kara keep going without spending a dime… and when it was that Kara had started enjoying the sex more than having the integrity of not being up for sale?

I should’ve asked for more money, Kara thought. She would’ve gone higher… does it make it better or worse that Lena couldn’t control herself either?

Then she realized she wasn’t alone in the room.

Looking through her midnight-black surroundings, Kara traced the feeling of life—of hungry desire not her own—to a break in the shadows. The silhouette of a woman. Where the light touched her, it glinted off her bone-white mask.

“Lena,” Kara gasped, holding her bedsheet to her body. She’d done as her client had instructed and slept in the nude… not much of an imposition, since she usually only wore boxers to bed… but there was a difference between sleeping that way and letting Lena see her like that.

“I needed…” Lena began, and for the first time in their brief acquaintance Kara heard her voice falter. “I dreamed of you.”

She stepped forward. The light embraced her more fully. She wore pajamas, actually stylish, monogrammed, black satin setting off her milky skin, white buttons and piping like the mask she wore. She held something red in her hands. It was something flexible, something that stretched. Lena pulled it between her two hands like someone would toy with a leash before they put it on a dog.

“I pictured you…” Lena continued, bare feet padding across the deep carpet. “In your bed… like this… naked, but you can still get dressed… get up… go to the door, the elevator… and leave.”

Kara felt her voice dwindle to a whisper inside her chest. “That’s the deal,” she said, barely. “If I want out, I’m out.”

“I know, but my body… there’s a part of me… I need more,” Lena concluded. “Hold out your hands.”

Kara didn’t know why she obeyed, but she did. She stretched out her arms and Lena was there like a hawk diving for its prey. Kara felt cold silk strike her wrists, making her gasp at the feel… a bright almost-pain and a luxurious, a decadent sensation… the silk was fine, expensive. It made Kara think of supermodels wearing glamorous, expensive lingerie; on their skin, that had to feel the same as this did now.

“Did your mommy let you sleep before you put your toys away?” Lena asked, sounding calmer, more herself, as she wound the silk around Kara’s wrists and joined it in a knot. “Mine didn’t. But even now that she’s gone, I like having everything nice and neat. And in its place.”

She pulled the knot together. Tighter. Tighter. Kara felt her wrists rub together. The sensation didn’t hurt—the touch of the silk was too kind, too generous, to provoke pain—but she did feel trapped.

Kara had never been tied up before… never denied her freedom… never been unable to do what she wanted, on some level. Every job she’d ever taken, she could walk out of. Every class she’d ever attended, she could leave.

And now, Lena was telling her that this was hers whether she wanted it or not. Kara didn’t know how to feel about it. All she knew was that she wasn’t stopping Lena. She was letting Lena make her more and more a prisoner. Her prisoner.

Lena sighed like there was a weight off her shoulders. “Mommy was right about this much. It’s such a relief to know that when I want to play with my new toy, it’s right where it belongs.”

“I wasn’t going to leave, Mistress.”

“I didn’t think you were. But I like knowing you won’t.” Lena took a breath so deep, when she exhaled, it made her mask quiver. “Is the scarf too tight?”

“Scarf?” Kara looked at her hands. This close, with the moon thick and pregnant outside curtained windows, she could see that it was a silk scarf that Lena had used to bind her. Cute, too. I wonder if she’ll let me keep it.

“Is it?” Lena insisted.

“No. It’s not too tight.”

“Good. I don’t want you hurt. By a knot, at least.” Lena reached into her pocket and Kara felt a spark of envy that not only did Lena have those on such an elegant outfit, but that they were her pajamas.

Then Lena took out something about the size of a pill bottle. Kara wondered what it was, or if she was supposed to ask.

Lena thumbed a button on the thing and a blade snapped out of the end of it.

Kara wasn’t afraid. She knew Lena wouldn’t hurt her—ironic, considering that Lena had just implied she wanted to hurt her. But…

Kara didn’t know how much intimacy there could possibly be after any one sex act, particularly when it’d been bought and paid for. But in being the recipient of Lena’s desires, her passion, she’d had a taste of the woman. An impression of her that was far from complete, but certainly wasn’t inaccurate. And Kara knew Lena didn’t mean her real harm. Her body knew it.

And so when the knife came out, she didn’t feel fear. She felt excitement. In her naked flesh, with nothing between her and Lena but a bedsheet that felt as tangible as a cobweb, her clit was like a beacon. Calling out to Lena. Imploring her for more of what had happened that evening.

Lena stabbed the point of the knife into the nightstand. It held there, the hilt quivering in the air, when Lena took her hand away.

“You can cut yourself free whenever you like. But I like the thought of you bound. And now, I need my beauty sleep.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

Kara stared at the knife, its edge gleaming in the moonlight. It looked sharp enough to have her free in a second. She didn’t reach for it.

Neither did she reach down, to her vividly alive sex, and give herself the orgasm she knew would only be a few moments in the offing. This was all too strange, too new, for her to immerse herself in it.

At least she felt tired enough—emotionally worn out—to get back to sleep. Kara shut her eyes, intent on at least trying to sleep with her hands bound, and slumber called to her.

She thought what Lena had told her. It seemed the woman had said a lot with few, precious few words. But there was one thing Kara knew for sure.

Lena did not need any beauty sleep.