Perchance to Dom Ch. 3 - Sex Stories

Perchance to Dom Ch. 3

... paragraph. "Macy T got caught by a carbon fiber ribbon painted red. It cut into her arms and sucked at her wounds. It tore her dance outfit and wrenched her arms together behind her back. It wrapped her ankles and pulled her to her knees. And all the while the stage manager's eyeballs rolled along the ribbon, peeking into skin crevices and sneaking between ripped sequins. She dreamt of the contract she had willingly signed." My two page 'work' used bondage imagery to tell of a woman rapper's shame for having to sign a one-sided contract with a gatekeeper, not for fame but just a steady job. Problem was, I don't know shit about rap music, I just thought rap was transgressive, admired by the youths of today. Apparently it's old hat. I didn't account for my class of mostly rich, workaholic, white shitheads. Rap ignorance was the first thing my classmates pounced on. The second was about blatant (and therefore base) eroticism. At one point I said aloud, "Yeah, I don't know crap about rap. I admit it. I just wanted to write something that turned me on. If more of us revealed our desires, more of us might get them satisfied." School was nearing its end, and I didn't give a shit about my reputation. I left the room before the class ended. I waited across the hall. After the bell, Tamary came out and spotted me. She stared, not stopping. I held up a page of paper. On it I'd scrawled, "I know the truth about you." I waved my head for her to follow me down the hall in the direction ...

... opposite she was headed. "Trust me enough to decide if I'm worth your trust." I said when she caught up to me. "You have a stupid way of instilling initial trust." She meant the insults. "That was stupid. If you can forget that, I'll try to be smarter." "I can't forget it. I know you weren't insulting me, after I thought it over. You were probing. You hit the wrong button first." Tamary was a girl who had bursts of openness. She was typically more shy. "So the insults did 'work' for you." "No." She looked to the floor, walking. "Not, that way." She took a deep breath. "But in the way you said the next day…" "Let's go outside." We skipped our next classes. I led her to a tree near the edge of the school grounds. "I'm going to twist your arm behind your back and tell you something." I reached out my hand. She didn't offer hers, but it twitched in my direction. I took it gently and stepped behind her, drawing her arm back. She kept looking at the ground. I could feel her pulse race in her wrist. I whispered, "You are very smart and knowledgeable and competent and incredibly productive, and you think you've fooled everyone." I twisted her arm until her first wince. Her breaths gasped between stiff pauses. Her body shuddered. I sensed she was crying but not because she was sad or hurt. It was because she was relieved. I was forcing her to abandon false composure, but I didn't tighten my hold any further. "If I had a length of soft rope, I'd make it very hard for you to move, hard for ...