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  TIED UP IN KNOTS

  MIRANDA FORBES

  Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2011

  ISBN 9781908262417

  Copyright © Xcite Books Ltd 2011

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors' imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  Winner of Jade Erotic Awards:

  Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010 & 2011

  "Xcite has delighted its readers with a wealth of superb titles and first class storytelling. Their titles have far outstripped the others for both quality of the product and sensual erotic content."

  Contents

  Tied Up In Knots Antonia Adams

  Rockin' It Old School Lynn Lake

  Good Neighbours Angel Propps

  That Girl! Landon Dixon

  Alive Clarice Clique

  Tied Up In Knots

  by Antonia Adams

  Consciousness returned slowly. But for a few seconds Will thought he must still be dreaming. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see much either, on account, he realised slowly, of the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. He was laying face-down on what he was pretty sure was his own bed. The familiar scent of him was on the sheets. He was buck naked. His arms and legs were tied. Both his hands were straight up in front of him, his legs were spreadeagled.

  He tested the bonds. Something metallic secured his hands to the bedstead. Something softer, but quite strong, held his ankles apart. There was a dry, slightly bitter taste in his mouth and his head felt fuzzy.

  Sara, he remembered hazily, had said something about tying him up being her ultimate fantasy. But how long ago had that been? He didn’t have any memory beyond them having drinks in his lounge just after dinner. Hang about – they’d brought the wine into the bedroom. She’d been giggling, waving a pair of handcuffs around that she’d borrowed from work.

  ‘Put your uniform on and you can do what you like to me.’ He’d remembered saying that as he sprawled out on the bed. God she was hot – even without her uniform – especially without her uniform. She had tits to die for and she always wore tops that were too tight so he could see every curve, see the perky outline of her nipples.

  He was getting hard just thinking about it. But where was she? The last thing he remembered was her smile and her dark hair falling forward onto his naked chest.

  ‘Sara?’ He moved his head enough to yell, surprised to find his voice was slurred. They hadn’t had that much to drink, had they?

  He wasn’t really expecting an answer. He was almost sure he was alone. The room had a silence about it – an emptiness. Shit!

  ‘Sara!’ he called again. Maybe she’d just popped out to get more wine or something.

  No, she hadn’t. She wouldn’t leave him trussed up helpless and go out. Would she?

  How long had he been lying here anyway? Something told him it had been a while. More than a while. He ached with the unnatural position.

  Then he remembered with a cold little chill the discussion they’d had earlier that evening …

  ‘You want to shag Julie? Am I hearing this right – you want to shag my best friend?’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that. I said Peter had mentioned they’d sometimes messed about with other couples. That was all I said. Hey – don’t get so stressed, babe.’

  ‘You said she had nice breasts.’

  ‘Well, – yeah, she does, but that doesn’t mean I want to shag her.’

  ‘You said she had nice breasts and they sometimes messed about with other couples – what else could you mean exactly?’

  ‘I meant nothing, babe. I meant nothing – OK.’

  He didn’t know how he’d got into that conversation. Sara was gorgeous but she was jealous as hell. She’d told him once before what she’d do to him if she ever caught him being unfaithful. It involved some pretty sadistic stuff.

  There was no doubt in his mind she’d do it either. She’d been involved in a bit of a scene when he’d met her; with some pretty dodgy people. Jesus, why had he opened his mouth before he’d got his brain into gear?

  He thought he’d smoothed things over, but maybe he hadn’t. A little slick of fear ran down his back. Maybe this was her idea of revenge – tying him up and leaving him, helpless and naked in his own flat. Yeah, that was definitely the sort of thing that would appeal to Sara. There had always been a touch of the dominatrix about her. It was one of the things that had quite turned him on. But he didn’t know about doing it for real.

  From outside the room there was a click of sound. A door closing somewhere. He strained his ears, his senses on full alert. There was a rustling, as though someone had taken off a coat and then footsteps coming across the wooden floor in the hall towards the bedroom door. Steady, measured footsteps, someone wearing flat shoes. Sara had been wearing heels – he was sure she’d been wearing heels. Maybe she’d taken them off.

  A breath of air swept across his back and he knew someone had opened the bedroom door.

  ‘OK, babe, enough’s enough. You’ve had your fun – untie me please.’

  No answer. The bed dipped beneath someone’s weight. He had a sudden terrible vision of it being his cleaner. She had her own key. Could he have slept through the night? Surely not. Anyway she’d hardly just sit on the bed. She’d say something like, ‘Sorry, Will, didn’t realise you were in,’ in that breathy little-girl-voice she had, and then she’d close the door.

  Not much shocked Carol.

  The person on the bed still didn’t speak, but he could hear breathing. The soft edge of a finger ran down his spine from his neck to the top of his buttocks, then paused. He shivered, and immediately wished he hadn’t. There was no sense in letting her know she’d got to him. She knew he wasn’t a fan of these power games. Well, not when he was the one tied up anyway.

  The finger resumed its gentle stroking. The finger became a hand, soft and smooth with long nails that scraped slightly. It had to be Sara. He breathed in, trying to catch the scent of her, but all he got was the faint smell of soap.

  The hand morphed into two hands that rubbed and stroked his shoulders, circled the muscles below, moved down his back and finally came to rest on his buttocks; paused before pulling them gently apart.

  Another little shift in weight. Another sound somewhere in the room, but before he had time to consider the significance of this the soft wetness of a tongue circled his arsehole.

  Holy shit. He was suddenly more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. If this was submission, he was up for it. One hundred and ten per cent totally up for it. In fact, why the hell hadn’t they done it before? He arched back to meet the tongue, wanting it to go further, wanting more.

  The tongue probed him, flicking and teasing, darting in and out, a soft little harbinger of joy. Then just as suddenly as it started it was replaced by a finger. He couldn’t believe the sensations as the finger pushed slowly in. He groaned.

  At the same moment the hands started up again on his shoulders, rubbing, smoothing, circling, pummelling. Round and round, over and across his skin.

  The significance of this didn’t hit him straight away. And then it did – smashing into him like a bucket of ice. If Sara was massaging his shoulders, who the hell had their finger up his arse?

  He jumped away, his sphincter muscles tightening round the finger, but not managing to expel it.

  The
re was a soft laugh from the door. Sara’s laugh.

  ‘Enjoying it, Will? Enjoying your spot of swapping are you?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Sara …’ He reared up against his bonds. But he had no chance of getting away. ‘At least take the blindfold off,’ He was trying not to beg. ‘At least let me see …’

  ‘Who’s got their finger up your arse?’ Her laugh tinkled out. ‘Worried it might be Peter, are you?’

  It could be Peter. Shit! He could have another man’s finger up his arse. He still had a raging hard on. Double shit. Did that make him bi like Peter? Not that there was anything wrong with being bi. He just – well – he just would have liked more say in the matter, that was all.

  ‘Maybe you’d like a cock up your arse.’ She was coming across the room. Her mocking voice was right by his ear. ‘That could be arranged.’

  ‘I don’t want a cock up my arse,’ he said quietly. Not sure it was the right thing to say. Not sure if it was even true. The finger was still there. He had the biggest hard on in history. He wasn’t sure what he wanted any more.

  ‘Take the blindfold off.’

  ‘What’s the magic word? ‘ She scraped a nail down his back and he flinched.

  ‘Take the fucking blindfold off,’ he said in a fit of bravado.

  ‘Wrong answer, Will.’

  There was ice in her voice. He could feel his bravado slipping away. That probably hadn’t been the brightest move he’d ever made. He was, after all, totally at her mercy. And whoever else was in the room. He wasn’t even sure it was Peter and Julie.

  What if it was someone from her past? She’d been texting a lot earlier. He hadn’t taken much notice – she couldn’t survive without texting her mates.

  Sara had been into all sorts when he’d met her. It was one of the things that had attracted him. The danger, the edge.

  He was on the edge now all right.

  The finger was removed. He sighed. Ground his pelvis into the sheets. He was half disappointed.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t do this?’ That was Peter’s voice. It seemed to have come from the direction of his head. So he hadn’t had a man’s finger up his arse. Well, that was something.

  ‘No, you shouldn’t be doing it,’ he decided to appeal to his friend’s better nature. ‘Untie me, mate, can you?’

  ‘But it’s your ultimate fantasy – a foursome with you helpless and bound.’ Julie’s voice was breathy, excited. Julie was the owner of the finger. Now, she dropped a kiss on his arsehole and cupped his balls with her hand. Which was pretty exciting in itself, he had to admit.

  ‘And you haven’t said the safe word, Will. We’d stop if you said the safe word.’

  What bloody safe word.

  ‘I think he wants a bit of cock,’ Sara said evilly. ‘How about it, darling?’ He felt her nail again. A casual scrape down his spine, digging in a little between his buttocks, toying with his arsehole. Jesus, why the hell was he so turned on?

  How could he hate her and want her so much in the same breath?

  Now she was between his legs squeezing something cold against his crack, lubing him up with her fingers and his body wanted it – despite everything he’d ever known about himself – all the preconceptions he’d ever had, his mind was as open as his body to the invasion. His mind welcomed it, longed for it.

  He wanted cock. He wanted a rock hard shaft of man-meat up his arse.

  ‘Are you sure he’s up for this?’

  ‘Course he is.’ Sara’s voice was pure darkness.

  A little moan escaped him. She was right. He did want it. He was rearing up, almost on his knees, pushing back against the hardness that was pressing against his sphincter. There were cool hands around his dick – foreign fingers, Julie’s fingers again, stroking his balls, pumping him up and down, but it wasn’t the fingers he wanted, it was invasion.

  And as the hardness pushed in – a sweet explosion of pain – he yelled out but he also arched back to meet it. Who’d have thought it felt so good to have a dick up his arse. He’d never realised they were so bloody hard – so rock-like, so good. He breathed, gasped, yelped, quivered, existed in a red mist of ecstasy.

  Julie’s fingers were jerking him off in perfect rhythm to the pounding his backside was taking. He was beyond thought now – beyond everything he’d ever known – as he gave himself up to the pleasure pain of what was happening.

  His body betrayed him. He couldn’t stop himself. He was coming and coming and coming. He thought it would never stop, spurt after spurt after spurt, bursting out of him, soaking the sheets. A never ending stream of jism.

  The cock eased out of him. More gently than it had gone in. The hands left his balls. For a few long moments he was untouched. Unravelled. Undone. After the red heat of his orgasm he floated in a white haze of contentment.

  Then, to his surprise someone was untying him, taking off the blindfold. It was Peter, he realised, as he blinked in the light. His head still felt groggy. Even though he was free he didn’t feel like moving far. He stretched his cramped limbs and rolled over onto his side. It was like waking up in a porn movie.

  Peter was naked, his cock semi erect. It was huge. Had he really had that up his arse? Julie, clad only in a thong, was smiling as she lay alongside him. Her breasts were now against his chest, her nipples very large very pink.

  Sara was standing at the foot of the bed, naked but for her long black boots and an inscrutable little smile on her lips.

  ‘You’re a man of hidden depths,’ Julie said, kissing him on the mouth.

  ‘Not so hidden,’ he said ruefully.

  She giggled again. ‘We were totally amazed when Sara told us your ultimate fantasy. Me and Peter – well we both thought you were a bit straight to be honest.’

  ‘Just goes to show,’ he murmured, taking advantage of the fact that her breasts were so close and bending to suck on a nipple, which peaked satisfyingly beneath his tongue.

  ‘Naughty boy wants some more,’ she squeaked.

  ‘Well, the night is yet young.’ Sara’s voice had a little edge to it. ‘None of us are getting up early tomorrow, are we?’

  ‘Never get up in the morning if you can get up in the evening,’ Peter said, ‘That’s my motto.’

  Will had a feeling it might be his too. His dick was already stirring again. Not quite ready for round two, but certainly not averse to the idea of more action shortly.

  ‘So what other little fantasies have you got then, lover boy?’ Julie murmured. ‘Anything else we can help you out with?’

  ‘Well, I’ve always fancied watching two women go down on each other,’ Will said, giving her nipple a tweak. ‘And maybe a bit more arse action, but with you girls on the receiving end this time. And us boys dishing it out.’

  ‘A man after my very own heart,’ Julie, said licking her lips.

  Will glanced across at Sara. She wasn’t looking quite so pleased with herself now it seemed her little plan had backfired. What had she expected? Obviously for him not to have enjoyed himself quite so much. Perhaps she’d expected him to have crawled away in embarrassment when her little games had reached their sick conclusion.

  He grinned lazily at her. ‘You up for that, babe? Or have you had your fill of fun and games for the night?’

  He got off the bed and strolled across. His legs still felt a little shaky but his dick had recovered, it seemed. ‘I assume you don’t want to let our friends go home unsatisfied.’

  ‘I’m up for anything,’ she said tightly.

  And he thought – no, not quite anything. He’d just twigged that he hadn’t had Peter’s cock up his arse. She hadn’t been quite up to conning his bisexual mate into buggering him without his consent. Although she’d wanted him to think that’s what had happened. No wonder it had felt so hard. The top drawer of his dressing table wasn’t quite closed. The buckle from a strap-on was in the way, stopping it from shutting properly. He’d glimpsed it as he’d gone past. And it hadn’t been in there earlier.

 
Julie had been right. He had always been straight laced in bed – a vanilla kind of man – flirting with the idea of a foursome, but never quite thinking he’d really do it.

  But his game-playing girlfriend had opened a whole new Pandora’s box of fetishes with her invented fantasies and her invented safe word – not to mention whatever she’d spiked his drink with to get him tied up to the bed in the first place.

  He grinned, as he slid his fingers down the curve of her beautiful stomach and then jammed them up hard between her legs.

  Will had a feeling it wasn’t going to be quite so easy to close the Pandora’s Box as it had been to open it.

  Rockin’ It Old School

  by Lynn Lake

  ‘Hey, where ya goin’, Hailey?’ Eugene yelled. He struck a chord on his Wal-Mart electric guitar, caught his pick in the steel strings and almost snapped a finger off.

  ‘Yeah, woz up, Ha-Lo?’ Myron shouted. He tried to rat-a-tat-ting a rimshot, but the drumsticks jumped out of his sweaty hands and clattered to the concrete floor of his parents’ garage.

  Hailey Logan just shook her head in disgust and kept right on walking, down the driveway and out on to the sidewalk, headed for downtown.

  She’d been playing with Eugene and Myron – The X-urbanites, as Eugene called them – for two months now, and it was obvious to the music-serious eighteen-year-old that they were going nowhere. The two boys were more interested in getting into her pants than getting any better, or any gigs. And she’d found out from personal experience that they were just as inept in that department as they were in making music.

  Hailey knew she didn’t have the diva-licious good looks of a Mariah Carey or Faith Hill – with her dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin and small breasts and tiny, sinewy body, she was more punk than princess – but she had the drive and ambition, and a pretty good set of pipes.

  The bell rang over the door as she pushed her way into Second Notes, the used CD and vinyl record store on 10th Street. The owner, Gil Mendez, looked up from the pile of Alan Sherman albums an old geezer was trying to sell him and nodded at Hailey. She nodded back.