I Love Her Anyway

Chapter 12

After shooting you dad a quick text that you’d be spending the night once again at another friend’s house and him complying, as usual, you grinned and grabbed Brendon’s hand, racing to the ballroom, begging him to dance. There was something about the open space, the beautiful murals on the walls, the hanging chandeliers, the fancy marble pillars, the golden trimming, that made you feel so elegant. Even now, dressed in one of his baggy t-shirts going down to your thighs and your panties, messy hair and coffee breath, it felt so nice to just dance with him. He put on some light classical, spinning you around in circles and swaying with his hands on your hips, making you giggle smile. He was so beautiful, shirtless in sweatpants, disheveled hair and lazy grin. His puppies were happily skipping around you, wagging their tails and sticking their tongues out, panting happily. It seemed like everything in your life was right when you were with him, when you were loving him. God, you wanted to love him for the rest of your life.

               Once you were exhausted from dancing, he insisted that both of you need to take a shower and get dressed, and after a bit of grumbling, you gave in. You couldn’t really complain, showers with Brendon were usually the highlights of your day. Listening to him sing in the shower as he lathered soap all over your body with his delicate touch came nothing close to sitting in the bathtub alone nicking your shins whilst shaving your legs and having conditioner stinging in your eyes. Today he’s singing the Beatles, and you’re humming along, the warm water cascading down your shoulders. It’s an intimate thing, to be naked to someone and so close, yet not provoking anything sexual at all. To simply be in the comfort and simplicity of another, the primitive vulnerability, the atmospheric trust. Seconds turn into minutes, turn into hours, turn into days, turn into weeks with him. You can barely believe it’s been this long.

               “Lay down for me baby,” he instructs carefully, placing you onto the mattress that night after having undressed you completely. “Put your hands above your head. Yes, just like that. Good girl.”

               “What are you doing?” you can’t help but smirk as you watch him fish around for something in the black bag on his nightstand. When you watch him pull out the silver silk rope, your heart skips a beat.

               “I’m planning on having a little fun with you. I want to see how far I can take you. I want to push your limits. I don’t want to break you, but I want to see how much you can handle. Think of it as a little game if you will,” he explains.

“O-okay,” you comply, scared but your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Red means stop, yellow means slow, green means continue,” he reminds. He carefully wraps the rope around your wrists, tying it several times and then tightening it. “Does that hurt, kitten?” You shake your head no. “Good. Keep them above your head for me, alright?” You nod.

               “What next?” you wonder, curious.

               “This,” he pulls out the nipple clamps and you whimper as he drags the cool chain against your stomach. “These will hurt princess, but you’ll get used to them. Alright?”

               “Yes sir,” you gulp down your fear. He carefully presses one open, cupping your breast with one hand softly before attaching it, and when he lets go, you can’t help but close your eyes tight, clenching your teeth. “It hurts, fuck it hurts…”

               “I know, I know,” he soothes, brushing his thumb against your breast. “You’re doing so good baby. Remember the safe words and use them if you need them.” He then moves to your next one, doing likewise, and you let out labored breaths. It’s a piercing pain but for some reason, you like it.