Even now, after what he’s done, I really and truly do.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, wanting to reassure him that I’m all in.
Ilya smiles at me. “Thank you.”
Then he lays the first layer of rope on me. I inhale sharply, my skin tingling and my nipples already pebbling from that alone.
Ilya doesn’t tease me, and he doesn’t reprimand me for my reaction. He only carefully winds the rope around my body. He crosses the ropes and knots them in intervals. I watch in fascination as my chest ends up with criss-cross ties.
It’s snug but not too tight, and I reach down to touch the soft rope, brushing my fingers along it. I wonder what he thinks of how it looks.
“Can I see when you’re done?” I ask him.
“Of course,” Ilya says. He kisses my forehead. “But now I will bind your cock.”
Butterflies flutter within my stomach, but I nod to him. I’m already half-hard from the sensations, a little dizzy, and I watch him as he carefully takes my cock in his hands. This time, he goes more slowly, using a second rope that’s thinner than the one across my torso.
He makes a loop around my cock and balls, tightening it enough that I can feel it, but not so much that it constrictsmy cock entirely. He ends up separating my balls and then extending the ropework up the length of my now fully hard cock.
When I wiggle, I feel the knots press against the sensitive skin. One of the knots is deviously positioned to push against my taint.
“Mishka?” Ilya asks softly. “You need to breathe.”
“I don’t think I remember how,” I say, my eyes half-closed as I revel in the sensations. I’d never thought that being tied up this way would feel so good, but the way he’s wrapping the rope around my cock and balls is tantalizing. I force myself to take a deep breath, marveling at the way the rope tugs against my skin when my chest expands more.
“You must breathe,” Ilya insists, but he lifts my hands and kisses my palms. “One more step. Are you ready for me to bind your hands?”
I nod, but I open my eyes completely, wanting to watch him work. It’s art, I realize, and he’s making me a part of it. I never would’ve expected someone to take such care with me, especially when tying me up.
He wraps the rope around my wrists, using loops to make sure the rope doesn’t tighten too much. The few times Adam had tied me up—and I hate that I’m thinking about him at all—he’d used common knots that had chafed and left deep red bruising on me. I’d always been grateful that he’d been too impatient to play with ropes more regularly.
When my hands are well and truly bound, Ilya tugs on the loose end of the rope to lift my arms a few inches.
“Can you stand?” Ilya asks.
I hesitate, unsure. “With help, probably,” I tell him. It’s going to put pressure on my cock and balls, I know that much, and I don’t know how it’s going to feel. Good, I think, like the rest.
“Then I’ll help.”
Ilya guides me off the bed, and as I’d expected, every single movement has a knot pressing against my body. I stifle a moan when the rope on my cock tightens imperceptibly.
“There we go,” Ilya murmurs.
I have to lean against him to walk, my legs unsteady. About halfway across the room, Ilya stops and places his hands on my shoulders. I make a soft noise, unsure about what’s happening, until Ilya turns me around.
I’m confronted by my own reflection.
My entire body is flushed red, and I stare back at someone unfamiliar. I look… beautiful.
I turn, squirming when the rope tugs at my balls, getting a good look at my side. I can’t get a good view of my back, but it’s just as artfully tied as my front.
“This is… amazing,” I breathe.
I feel safe. Secure.
“You look good,” Ilya says. He runs his hands over my chest, over the ropes and back against my skin. He pokes at my nipples, and I see him smile in the mirror when I shiver.
“So now that you have me all tied up,” I say, tilting my head, “what do you intend to do with me?”
