Lira stood in the tavern's cellar, her arms at her sides, her breath steady but her heart pounding like a war drum.
She wore only her underwraps—a thin linen chest band clinging to her small breasts, a shortcloth tied loosely at her hips, the kind she'd wear to slip through shadows or sleep unnoticed.
Her weapons were locked away upstairs, but her pride stood firm, a shield against the vulnerability creeping into her bones.
Kio stood behind her, uncoiling black rope with steady hands, the fibers whispering against his calluses.
The cellar was a shadowed world—stone walls slick with damp, lanterns casting a faint amber glow, the air thick with oak, iron, and the sharp bite of lamp oil.
The tavern above slumbered, its patrons gone, Mira's snores a distant hum through the floorboards.
"Sit," Kio said, his voice low, a command wrapped in calm.
Lira sank into the high-backed wooden chair at the cellar's center, her movements stiff, her emerald eyes flickering with defiance and need.
Kio knelt, binding her ankles first—spread wide, secured to the chair's legs with tight, clean knots.
Her wrists came next, crossed behind her and tied to the chair's back, the rope biting just enough to ground her.
A final loop circled her chest, just below her breasts, pinning her against the wood, her breaths shallow but steady.
Then the blindfold—soft silk, heavy with darkness, slipping over her eyes like a lover's hand. Her world dissolved into velvet black, every sound sharper, every breath louder.
She didn't speak.
"Every sound you make," Kio said, his voice soft but unyielding, "tightens the tension."
Lira swallowed, her throat bobbing, her lips parting slightly.
"I'm not fucking you tonight," he said.
"Didn't ask you to," she shot back, her snark a thin veil over her trembling voice.
"You didn't need to."
His footsteps echoed faintly, a slow scrape of wood on stone—a stool dragged closer, perhaps.
Then his fingers—light, warm, teasing—grazed her thigh, tracing the edge of her shortcloth.
Lira flinched, her breath catching.
A faint creak followed, the ropes shifting as Kio adjusted a knot, increasing the pressure around her ankles.
"The ropes heard that," he murmured.
Her body stiffened, her jaw clenching to trap the sound threatening to spill.
His fingers moved again, sliding along her hip, tugging the shortcloth aside.
Cool air kissed her exposed folds, already slick, betraying her. She bit her lip, hard, stifling a gasp.
Kio's touch returned, brushing her folds, grazing her clit with a featherlight stroke.
Her hips twitched, a soft gasp escaping before she could stop it.
The ropes tightened—a subtle shift, the fibers pressing into her skin like a warning.
She whimpered, her thighs quaking, her pride fraying at the edges.
"You're not in control," Kio said, his voice a low growl against the silence.
"Never was," she whispered, the admission raw, her snark dissolving into need.
Silence fell, heavy as the cellar's air.
Then his fingers slid inside her—two, deep, slow, curling just enough to make her arch.
His thumb brushed her clit, a fleeting tease that sent sparks through her core.
Her hips jerked, a choked moan slipping free.
The ropes tightened again, the pressure a second skin, holding her captive to her own desire.
"Oh gods—" she breathed, her voice trembling.
Another creak, another tug of the ropes, binding her tighter.
Lira clenched everything—jaw, thighs, abs—fighting to stay silent, to hold back the tide threatening to break her.
Kio teased her mercilessly, his fingers working her to the edge but never over, keeping her trembling, breathless, her thighs shaking against the chair's unyielding hold.
Each moan she let slip tightened the ropes, their bite a mirror to her mounting need.
Finally, he stopped, his fingers withdrawing, leaving her pussy clenching at nothing.
A low whine escaped her throat, barely audible, raw with desperation.
Kio leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.
"You're holding so much," he murmured, his voice a promise and a balm. "But not for long."
He stepped away, the cellar door creaking open, then closing with a soft thud.
Lira sat in the dark, blindfolded, bound, trembling with denial, her body aching for release she couldn't reach.
She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to cry out, her heart pounding as the tavern's silence swallowed her whole.