“Thanks for staying behind and helping out.”

I look up from the sticky coffee table to find Willow holding a trash bag. She’s smiling at me. Which makes me feel a bit sad for her?

“No big deal.” I shrug.

“Yeah, well I still appreciate it.” 

She disappears out the front door, hair bouncing as she goes. She’s been growing it out and it reaches her shoulders now. Suits her much better than the buzz cut she used to rock. Not about to tell her that, though.

I resume clearing the table. Saturday ended with our friend group over at her place for drinks, and I’ve already cleared the forgotten glasses. Now I’m scrubbing a few condensation rings they left behind. Despite knowing how much of a neat-freak she can be, people managed to miss the coasters Willow diligently put out to protect her vintage wooden furniture.

It’s always been funny to me how homey her decor feels compared to her usual tomboyish wardrobe. She’s tried to convert me to thrift stores, dragging a bunch of us along on occasion.

One last trip to the kitchen to toss the sponge in the sink, and I’m pretty much done here. She’s slipping her shoes off when I come back.

“All cleaned up,” I say brightly, fully expecting her to show me the door. 

We’re not college kids anymore. Late-twenty-somethings with jobs during the week go to bed at eleven on a Saturday.

Instead, she stands right in front of me. She’s pretty tall for a girl, and I’m short for a guy. Without her shoes, I only have a few centimeters on her. 

“Hang around for a while?” she offers, tilting her chin toward the sofa.

We don’t really hang out one-on-one. 

“Sure.”

Sheepishly, I sit down. She doesn’t join me right away. I hear the fridge door open.

“Beer?” she calls.

“Coke! I have to drive home.”

A few seconds later, she’s back with a half-empty glass of red wine and a can tucked under her arm.

“Of course,” she says softly. “Wouldn’t want my helper to get a DUI.”

I only get why she kept a hand free when it lands on top of my head as she sits down next to me. She ruffles my hair. My entire neck tingles. What was that for?

Willow catches it immediately. 

“Oh sorry,” she blurts out. “Am I crowding you?”

She’s got her feet up on the couch cushion. I’ve seen her bring her knees under her usual oversized hoodie a billion times. This time she just crosses her legs. I can feel my face burning as she hands me the Coke.

“This is my third,” she says, holding out her glass. “I should slow down.”

“Don’t worry, you’re fine,” I say, sounding like I’m the one apologizing. “I was just surprised.”

She takes a sip, then puts on an old-timey accent.

“You’re a good sport.”

That’s more like her. I crack my can open. 

“What do you wanna do? Movie?” I offer. Her brown eyes are still on me.

“I was thinking just talk. Feels like we never do.”

I have to chuckle. “We spend all our weekends together.”

This time she rolls her eyes.

“As a group, yeah. But we never talk. Just you and me.”

Willow nudges my hip with her knee. 

I try to think back to what I know about her. We text, we hang out. I hear about her work stories all the time. Or listen to her complain about her sister’s cheating husband. But I guess there’s one part of her life…

“You’re overthinking again.” She cuts my spiraling short.

“What?”

“You always do that. I can see the gears turning in your head. Don’t think so much, just talk to me. Tonight, I’m an open book.”

I take a deep breath.

“I guess we could talk about dating, and stuff…”

She looks like she’s feeding off my blushing. Clearly this was what she meant by talking. I have to break eye contact.

“I’m down. But you’ll need to trade every one of my dirty secrets for one of yours. Anything to tarnish that good-Catholic-boy Leo facade you’re putting on.”

I dare to look up at her again. It feels like her eyes haven’t left me this entire time. There’s something strangely eager in them. 

My hand is somehow steady as I hold it out. Willow gets it and places her wine glass in my palm.

The long sip I take gives me time to think. I’ve kept this part of my life from my friends for a reason. But sometimes, I can’t help but think it’d be so much easier to open up.

Willow looks concerned when I set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

“Hey, you’re okay?” she asks, carefully grasping my elbow. “You can tell me to fuck off. I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything.”

I slowly shake my head.

“Ask away,” I say in a much braver voice than I feel.

“You’re not fully gay, right?” 

She doesn’t waste any time. I’m glad I’ve finished the wine, I’d be dumping it down my throat otherwise.

“Uhm, no. I guess I mostly date men, but I like women too.” As the words tumble out of me, her face doesn’t really change. She’s just listening, and it puts a little courage in my chest. “Actually, I think I prefer women.”

“Oh?” She sounds genuinely surprised. “Why don’t you date them then?”

But I tut. I remember our deal.

“First, you have to tell me why everyone thought you were a lesbian for a while.” I feel proud of myself for standing my ground.

Willow suppresses a barked laughter.

“Seriously, you don’t know where that comes from?”

I shake my head. I can be oblivious.

“You’re so oblivious sometimes,” she groans. “Anna had the biggest crush on me for so long. And since I was too polite to tell her to kick rocks, the others thought that you know…”

She makes a pretty explicit gesture with her fingers. Anna introduced her fiancée to the group a few months ago. Does she know? It’s none of my business, really.

“Now back to the juicy stuff. Why don’t you date women?”

It takes me a second to find the words without sounding like an incel.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I feel like I can’t really be myself when I’m with a girl. Like there’s this expectation of how I should behave.”

Willow hangs on to my every word, then picks it right up.

“Like you can’t be sweet, gentle Leo. You have to pretend to be this macho, confident guy.”

A shiver runs through me.

“Yeah,” I agree in a breath.

“Ooh,” she coos, reaching out for my scalp once more. This time I welcome her fingers running through my hair. “That’s sad. But I can see how you end up getting swept up by men then.”

I nod silently, not really able to tell whether she’s empathizing or pitying me. But I can’t bring myself to care, I’ve never felt so seen.

“I, for one, am a big fan of sweet, gentle Leo,” she adds in a low voice. Then a mischievous smile spreads on her lips. “Although I heard you don’t just wait for guys to swoop in.”

Oh no.

“What do you mean?” My voice cracks.

“A gym buddy saw you on a hookup app.”

I’ve had this exact nightmare before. All my friends learning about my slutty ways. The rumor getting back to my family. 

“Relax,” Willow quickly adds. Her hand drops from my head to my shoulder, kneading it through my shirt. “I’m not judging, and I’m not telling.”

She pauses.

“Is it bad that I think it’s kinda hot?”

My brain has to process each word separately. What the hell is happening?

“Uh, I guess you counted as half-lesbian for a while. So you get a fetishization pass.”

She laughs at my shitty joke but doesn’t let go of me. She doesn’t speak either. I swallow.

“What about you? You’ve never really brought anyone around.”

I expect her to retreat. I know it’s a touchy topic. She stays right there with me.

“Sex is a little different for me. I don’t really do hookups. Or sex, really.”

Willow’s dry chuckle is not super convincing. 

“What do you mean?”

She looks straight into my eyes. For once, I’m the one who can see the gears inside her head. She bites her lip, brings her face closer.

Is she coming on to me?

Wait, this entire thing was a setup? 

But this is Willow. I’ve voted with the rest of the group to throw out her Doc Martens that one time we rented an Airbnb in Barcelona. Hell, she puked on me during that trip. We’re friends. She’s not hot. Right?

She stops with her mouth right by my ear. I feel her hot breath brush my skin with her next words.

“I could show you.”

Willow pulls back. And for the first time tonight, I see her blush.

My body is thrumming. I nod.

“Come.” 

Without another word, she gets to her feet and pulls me along behind her. She doesn’t look back. The offer clearly took a lot out of her.

I expect her to head for the stairs, I’ve been there a few times before. Instead, she guides me down the hall toward a door I’ve always seen locked. It opens to reveal another set of stairs. The basement.

It makes sense she has one. I’ve just never really thought about it.

In silence, we go down the steps.

Every basement I’ve ever been in has been the same combination of bare concrete, wet smell and unfinished walls. This could not feel more different. The stairs are carpeted and there’s a neat railing but with Willow’s strong grip guiding me I don’t really need it.

The space opens into…

Well, I’m not quite sure what this is. Dim, colored lights cast long shadows, keeping the room in a cozy half-darkness. The floor is made of matte ocher tiles, broken up by thick, fuzzy rugs.

One corner is occupied by a bean bag, and a large plushie. Next to it is a small bookcase. But the thing that draws my gaze is the gigantic…. cross? It’s shaped like an ’X’, and I see cuffs hanging from it.

It takes me a second to realize I’m just gawking at it, jaw slack.

Willow’s looking straight at me when I recover from my daze. She’s downright chewing her bottom lip.

“What is this? A dungeon?”

She giggles.

“It’s such a tacky word. But yeah. I guess. It’s where I get to be myself.” She hasn’t let go of my hand. “We can go right back upstairs and pretend this never happened if you want.”

It takes two to hold hands, and I’ve not tried to squirm out of her palm either.

“Give me the tour of the grounds?”

Her face lights up.

“Socks off, then.”

I’m trying to figure out if she’s attempting a pun or something when she insistently points at her own bare feet. 

She frees my hand, and I quickly bend over to actually take off my socks.

“Ooh,” I marvel, feeling the warm tiles under my soles. “Heated floor?”

“Yup. Cost me a fortune. Worth it though, right?”

I nod my agreement. Then she notices something over my shoulder and freezes. She bolts.

I turn just in time to see her yanking the curtains shut over the glass doors of a tall display cabinet. 

Not before I catch sight of the biggest dildo I’ve ever seen, looming proudly among a sea of butt plugs and other implements I don’t quite recognize.

That’s when I notice the other shelves that occupy the wall. I’m not a prude. I’ve been around. But some of this stuff I’ve never seen in person before. 

“The dildo collection is what you’re ashamed of? Not the twenty different floggers?”

Willow spins around, a contrite look on her face.

“Don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” she says, already back to my side. She recaptures my hand. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She pulls me toward what has to be the least offensive shelf. Mundane, harmless-feeling items are lined up, each in its own little nook. Willow lets me take a good look before she starts talking again, shoulders rubbing against mine.

“I like to keep some fun non-kinky toys around.” She picks up a long feather. Unsurprisingly, she uses it to tickle the tip of my nose. “Helps set the mood.”

Before I’m able to swat it away, she moves it to my wrist, then up my arm. It makes my neck tingle. 

“Feels funny,” I chuckle.

“That’s the point. Are you down to play a little?”

Once again, all I can do is eagerly nod my head.

“Good. Arms up, sweetheart.”

I obey without thinking. A second later, she grabs the hem of my shirt, and pulls it up my torso. I have to squirm around when she gets it around my head. And just like that, I’m half-naked, standing in my friend’s basement.

Willow wears a satisfied smile.

“You’ve never really been shy about your body, huh?”

I shrug. She’s not wrong. There’s something soothing about her brown eyes as they travel over my exposed skin. They catch all sorts of colors from her lights.

“That’s good,” she purrs. “Because you’re really fricking cute.”

She quickly folds the shirt in her hands, then… walks away. With a quick detour to pick up my socks, left abandoned in the middle of the floor, she strides toward a discreet box at the foot of the stairs. Diligently, she stows my clothes away.

“You’re such a neat freak.”

Willow rolls her eyes, and walks right back to grab my hand.

“Well, you’ve just lost your feather privileges.”

She hovers over the row of wiry head massagers, jade rollers and other assorted novelties to land on something almost scary. It looks like a pizza cutter, but it has tiny little prongs in place of a blade.

I suppress my instinct to recoil.

“It’s called a Wartenberg wheel.” She presses it into her open palm. “Doesn’t pierce the skin, don’t worry. Doctors use it.”

She pulls my arm up in front of me. Slowly she rolls the pinwheel up the inside of my forearm, into the crook of my elbow, over my bicep. The little teeth make my entire body tremble, but she keeps a strong grip on me.

“Like it?” She sounds way too smug.

“S’alright.”

“Right…” She barely feathers the wheel over my left nipple. 

I yelp pathetically.

“Your hard little nipples seem to really like it.”

Willow is already back to picking her next toy, completely oblivious to how much chaos she’s just sown in my head. No, thinking about it, she probably knows. She’s just not done.

“Back to the soft stuff. You’ve been so brave.”

She pulls out a longish red scarf, with a white floral pattern. Gently, she bunches a tight loop, and brings it to my burning cheek.

“Feels cool, right? It’s silk.”

I lean into the touch, closing my eyes. It does feel good. I want to reach up to make sure she keeps it there.

“Careful, it’s expensive,” she chides me. “Keep your hands behind your back.”

Once more, she begins exploring my skin with her new toy. But the only thing I can focus on is her free hand, settling on my lower belly, keeping me steady. I swear I only somewhat contract my abs to try and impress her.

“I think I can see your brain melt out of your ear.” Willow’s voice brings me back to reality. But there’s no malice on her face. 

When it’s clear she’s aiming for my nipples again, my hands shoot up. To help her or to stop her? I can’t tell.

“I told you to keep your arms behind your back.” Despite her stern words, she’s clearly amused. “Well, that’s on me for expecting too much out of an untrained boy.”

She pulls both her palm and scarf away, and it takes everything not to whimper. Grabbing both my wrists, she pulls them back and steps behind me.

“I can help you obey if you want,” she offers, voice low against my ear. “But I want you to ask for it. If you’re not one hundred percent sure, we can just keep playing with the innocent stuff.”

I feel the goosebumps build on my neck.

“Please help me.”

Willow doesn’t answer. A single fingerpad runs down my spine, forcing me upright. Then, she brings both my wrists together over my lower back. The silken feeling returns, a cool loop closing around me.

“I’m just doing a simple knot, nothing fancy, okay? If you don’t like it, I can untie you in a second.”

I stay immobile. Well, most of me does. I can feel my pants growing tighter.

That’s new.

“There, pull on it a little.”

It feels more like a pressure on my wrists than actual tightness. But still, I can’t actually pull them apart. Willow’s not touching me, yet she’s keeping me from moving. 

She steps back in front of me, the very image of calm and control. I hope she feels even a tenth of my own exhilaration.

For a moment, we’re both silent. I stare at her while she admires her work. Finally, she brings a finger to each of my nipples and just tickles them. With my arms behind me like that, it’s like my chest is thrust up at her.

“Well, we just have to take care of these now. Follow me.”

For a moment, I’m scared she’s going to march straight to the cabinet with all the dildos and butt plugs. But she stops in front of the other shelf, the one with the kinky collection. And I wonder if it’s actually better, at least I’d know what to do with a silicone cock.

My arms hang awkwardly behind me as I trail after her. Willow’s quick to reestablish contact, her touch positioning me where she wants, facing the much scarier tools.

“Anything catch your eye?”

They’re all leather, latex, and glinting steel. But like the rest of the room, some of the meanest-looking items are undercut by a bright color, or a fuzzy texture in unexpected places.

The tall wooden cross sits at the edge of my vision.

“It’s a lot…”

Willow’s palm glides over my shoulder to rest at the nape of my neck. She gently rolls her thumb into my skin.

“I know. How about we agree that I make the decisions while we’re down here? Give your overworked little brain a break.”

I seek her eyes. They make my chest feel lighter.

“Yeah.”

She slides her hand higher, rubbing the back of my head, fingers digging into my hair.

“Good. Doesn’t mean you don’t have a say, though. If something feels too harsh or too scary, just say ’red’.”

“A safeword?”

“Of course. But don’t worry about etiquette or anything tonight, we can figure that out later. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, you can also just tell me in plain English, and I’ll stop and check in with you. Understood?”

“All clear.”

“Brilliant. Let’s try to have some fun then.” She buries her fingers deeper in my hair. “God, I love your hair. So floppy and blonde and cute.”

The compliment makes me melt, and I let her spin me around, with my back to the shelf. She reaches for something behind me. 

“I wanna try putting these clamps on you,” she explains, fiddling with a screw mechanism on what might otherwise look like metallic clothespins. “I’m keeping them pretty loose. Won’t pinch too much.”

I take a deep breath as she gathers the skin around my left nipple. Trembling, I look away from my chest and focus on her face. Her tongue peeks out between her lips as she closes the clamp on me.

Huh. Doesn’t hurt too bad. More of an annoyance than anything else. I just stare blankly as she does my other nipple.

“You must really think I’m a wimp. Can barely feel them.”

She chuckles, but doesn’t take the bait.

Instead, she gets on her tiptoes to grab something over my head, using me for balance. This brings her closer to me than ever, the fabric of her hoodie brushing against my bare stomach.

Willow smells good now, apparently? Sugary and feminine.

A cold, slithery thing falls on me as she pulls back. I yelp and almost jump out of the way. But it’s only the cable of whatever she’s picked up.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep the bratty act for more than thirty seconds.”

Willow gives me time to exhale the adrenaline, steadying me with a gentle push on my side.

“This is a violet wand. A classic.”

I watch as she places a little glass rod into the bulky plastic handle attached to the cable. The rod is topped by a flat circle, and when she presses a button, a soft violet glow illuminates it.

More concerning is the strange buzzing noise it makes.

It crackles when she presses it to my belly button. A sharp jolt is instantly replaced by a fun little vibration as she keeps the tip of the wand touching me.

“Fun, right?”

“Yeah. Feels good.”

“There’s a lot of places where it would feel even better. But today we only get to do your nipples.”

The dirty jokes are par for the course for Willow. But now I wonder how much of it is her usual crude humor, and how much of it is an actual promise.

I don’t have time to come up with my own joke. She pulls the flat head away, just enough to slowly zap up my stomach. I squirm, but she keeps an arm around my waist.

“Get ready.” She pulls the wand away and presses it to the clamp itself. 

My nipple throbs as the intense buzzing spreads everywhere the metal bites into me. I do my best not to buckle, to put on a brave face for her. But the continuous zapping makes it impossible to think about anything but the pain.

Yet when I open my eyes, Willow is right against me. Her scent surrounds me, her hand is on my back, my wrists are tied in her scarf. And even better, her gaze is fixed on my face. She has the hungriest smile across her lips. I barely recognize her.

I straighten up, and she pulls the wand away. My knees feel a little weak.

“Hanging on?”

“I’ll live.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Ready for the other nipple, or are we moving on?”

I start thinking, then remember our deal.

“You decide. You’re in charge tonight, right?”

Willow doesn’t need to say anything. But I’m pretty sure I can see a proud grin as she presses the wand to the other clamp.

She pushes harder this time, digging the metal into me. When I try to pull away, she follows my movement. I could just tell her to stop. I don’t.

The scarf rubs against my skin as my wrists pull against it, soft and useless and still somehow holding me exactly where she wants me. It takes me a while to remember to breathe.

Finally, she pulls away.

“So brave,” Willow gushes.

I’m not sure what she does with the wand. All I know is that the warm throb in my nipples actually gets a little worse when she takes the clamps off.

“Don’t move,” she says. She walks over to the plush corner and picks up a little pillow, carefully setting it on the floor in front of me. “Kneel here.”

I almost lose my balance, so she helps me down. But in my defense it’s my first time having my arms tied behind my back.

Willow remains standing, but she comes even closer, and pushes my head against her stomach. She resumes playing with my hair, letting me breathe out, pressed to her.

“Still having fun?”

I keep my face buried in her hoodie. My sore chest rubs on her thighs.

“Does it turn you on? To hurt me, I mean.”

She thinks for a few seconds, before answering in an even tone.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m having fun.”

“Good boy.”

Until then, I’ve been able to rationalize that I’ve just been indulging my friend’s weird games. But the combination of these two words, coming from her, does something strange to my brain.

A wave of pride, shame, and pleasure pulses from the back of my head, down through the rest of my body. My cock is raging in my pants.

“You’re too easy to read.” She chuckles from above me.

“Shut up.” I can never look at her again. I should just disappear into her. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“I’m not making fun of you, silly. Well, only a little. I like just how vulnerable you’re being right now.”

Gripping my hair, she slowly tugs my head back, forcing me to face her.

“Do you think you’d be down for something more intense? I’ll make it worth it for you.”

She didn’t need to add that second part. No way am I telling her ’no’ right now.

“Uhm.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tying you to the cross ever since I got it.”

Wow. Okay. I lean past her to look at it. It definitely isn’t as friendly as the rest of the room, reaching the ceiling. Like the rest of the furniture, this has to have been custom-built for the space. Then I notice the pink fluff on the cuffs that hang from it.

“I guess we can try…”

“Stay put. I’ll go change upstairs real quick, and then we’ll see just how obedient you can get, okay?”

Willow bends over and puts a kiss on my forehead. Her hair is just long enough to obscure the rest of the basement for an instant. Then she takes off and cuts the lights when she reaches the top of the stairs, plunging me into real darkness.

The sudden interruption leaves me alone with my heart beating in my ears, the snug silk keeping me bound, and the throb of my bruised nipples and hard cock. Yet, all I can think about is how bad my knees would be hurting right now if it weren’t for Willow’s thoughtful pillow under them.

She occupies my entire mind, fills my senses. I can still smell her. I’m still tied up. This is surreal, but the good kind of surreal. Like getting two candy bars from the vending machine. I left my house a few hours ago to grab drinks with my usual group and I’m about to get tied to a kinky cross.

I feel calm and collected, at least as much as one can be half-naked in their friend’s dungeon, when the lights turn back on.

A strange woman walks down the stairs.

She’s tall and her hair is pulled up in a loose ponytail, exposing the lines of her neck and collarbones. Her long-sleeved top dips low enough to show so much cleavage it’s hard to look away. Thankfully, the way its black latex glimmers under the lights manages to distract me.

The heels of her black boots clack against the stairs. They reach above her knees, but leave a tantalizing gap of pale skin before the red plaid skirt begins at the top of her thighs.

This can’t be Willow. Willow’s never worn such a bright red lip gloss. Willow doesn’t have an hourglass figure. Or even boobs. For all I know, Willow is just a sentient hoodie.

“Well, at least I know you like what you’re seeing. But I’d rather keep things clean around here, please don’t drool on the floor.”

I close my mouth. As expected, her hand finds my hair again. Gripping it to pull me to my feet comes as a surprise, though.

“Hey,” I groan, more startled than hurt.

“Don’t be a big baby.”

As she says it, the scarf loosens around my wrists. I almost regret the disappearance of the silken bonds. But then Willow rubs her hands briskly up and down my arms, and for some reason I don’t have the heart to complain anymore.

“How are your shoulders? Not too sore?”

Her face is close and she watches intently. So I make a big show of rolling them, and rotating my arms.

“Feels fine.”

“You’re flexible. That’ll come in handy. Come on.”

Willow pulls me toward the cross.

She flips a switch on the wall, and a series of LEDs light up along its whole length. Then she turns a dial, changing the color click by click. The varnished wood takes on the glow until she settles on a soft purple.

No way she set this up on her own. How many contractors have been involved in building her scary sex cross?

“Back against the cross.”

When I obey, she presses a hand in the middle of my chest, pushing until my bare skin touches the cold wood. I hiss.

Willow doesn’t even acknowledge me. She grabs my right arm with both hands and pulls it up. The fluffy pink cuff is quickly fastened around my wrist, but the strap linking it to the cross stays loose.

She does the same with my other arm. My chest suddenly tightens, aware of just how exposed I’m getting.

It almost feels like a hug when she leans to fiddle with something hidden behind the cross. I hear metallic sounds and crane my neck to try and see. But I’m not successful, and soon the slack in the straps disappears, forcing my arms up in the air.

Willow puts some space between us. Slowly, her eyes roam from my feet all the way to my outstretched arms.

“Try to come to me.”

I only manage a half-step before the cuffs hold me back. This is different.

“Wow.”

“I can see your pretty little head spinning.”

She steps back some more, taking the whole picture in. My heart drops when she pouts.

“Something’s off. Let’s get rid of these pants.”

I feel my eyes widen. Willow confidently reaches for my belt and unbuckles it. I squirm as she unzips my fly. Only then does she meet my eyes. She looks for something in them, still for a few seconds.

Then, she slides her fingers under the waistband, pulling the pants down. She bends over to help me step out of them. 

I only exhale as she walks off, rolling my trousers to tuck them away in the little box with the rest of my clothes.

“So much better.”

Looking down, it’s impossible not to notice the bulge in my boxer briefs. My instinct tells me to try to hide. I twist my hips. 

Willow’s warm grasp pulls me straight again.

“There’s no point hiding, sweetheart. I can do whatever I want to you.”

She couldn’t be closer. With her heels, our height gap is reversed. It should only be a small difference, yet she feels like a giant to me.

“I can touch you wherever I want. See?”

Her cheek rests on my bicep. Her hair tickles my arm, and her skin feels so soft against mine.

“Such strong arms for such a cute boy. I love that you shave your armpits, so clean.”

Willow slides up my arm, hands lazily rubbing along the way.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to behave around you. The way you blush at the slightest compliment, the way you melt into hugs. Ugh. But tonight I get to do this.”

She leans into me, and takes my nipple between her lips. They’re warm and firm, then her wet tongue peeks between them, flat and quick as it licks at me.

I let out a moan. She gives it one last, hard suck, then lets me go with a smacking sound. There’s a lipstick stain left on my chest.

“Fuck me, you’re too cute.”

Her face is so close. I hope she’s going to lean in for an actual kiss. Her lips always looked plush and inviting, and now I even know just how good they feel. But she holds back, and only smiles.

“Can we get rid of those?”

Willow lays her palm flat on my boxers, over my thighs, avoiding the throbbing bulge underneath. I manage not to buck.

“Please,” I whimper.

“Good boy.”

That’s all the consent she needs. She greedily pulls down my underwear. My cock springs into the warm air of the basement.

“Sooo pretty,” she gushes, going all the way to the floor to help the elastic band past my feet.

The heat from the exposure is so intense that I barely register her pulling my legs apart. One click, and my left foot is tied to the base of the cross. A second one, and I’m left with my thighs lewdly parted. 

My hard cock does its best to pull my balls tight instead of hanging completely exposed.

“That’s the neediest little dick I’ve ever seen.” 

Willow straightens up. Her hands rub over the smooth skin of my groin, careful not to touch any actual sensitive bits.

“And of course it’s shaved too. It’s like you’re my own private little pornstar.”

“Please.” At this point, it might as well be the only word I remember.

“You want me to play with your little buddy?”

“Please,” I beg.

She chuckles and wraps me in a weird sideways hug, pressing into my side while keeping her hips safely away from my cock. I get a kiss on the cheek, and a whiff of her shampoo. 

“Remember how this all started?” she asks softly.

My mind scrambles. I had a life before the basement? Oh right.

“We were talking,” I answer feverishly.

“Talking about what?”

“About sex and stuff…”

“Exactly. And you got so flustered when I asked about the guys from the apps. Well, if you want me to take care of you, you’re gonna need to fess up.”

She’s all over me, all around me. Her touch is inescapable. Except for the one place I need her. I groan.

“It’s really embarrassing.”

“Duh. I wanna know all the embarrassing stuff. Just how slutty has my cute little boy been? I won’t tell anyone, but I want to know. How many guys?”

I try my best to count. I do. But my brain’s just made of mush right now.

“I don’t know. A few a month?”

“A month?” she repeats. I can’t quite tell if it’s astonishment or admiration. “My, you’ve been around. What do you do with these men?”

My chest tightens. There has always been such a clean separation between my sex life and… my real life?

“Suck their cocks,” I whisper.

“What else?” She’s unrelenting, breathing heavily. I feel her plush chest pushing into my side.

“I can’t say that.”

She chuckles, then kisses my nose. “Of course you can.”

“They fuck me.”

Another kiss on my nose.

“I knew a well-mannered Catholic boy like you wouldn’t be a selfish top. And I can’t fault them for wanting to fuck you. Your ass looks so tight and yummy.”

Reaching around, she grabs my behind, roughly kneading it with both hands.

“I wouldn’t want to own anyone but my perfect, selfless little bottom.”

Willow finally kisses me on the lips. And just like that, I know that she means every single word of her praise, no matter how degrading they might sound. She pulls away before our tongues meet, but this still feels like a giant leap for me.

“And what about women? When’s the last time you slept with one?”

I try to hear a tinge of jealousy in her voice. The rational part of me knows better, though.

“College.”

I cringe, but her reaction is once again completely off-base.

“No way!” She laughs. “I know two mutuals who wanted to hook up with you. How did you manage to screw that up? Well, it’s their loss, I guess. I get you all to myself.”

Willow holds up her hand in front of my face. She forms a circle with her thumb and index finger, then slowly, very slowly, lowers it until it rests against the tip of my cock.

She slaps my ass when I try to buck.

“Not yet! I have one last question, then we can play with this.”

I swallow.

“So if I’m following, guys fuck your ass. And for some reason you can’t sleep with girls. When’s the last time you got to use that lovely little dick? Jerking off doesn’t count.”

There’s no way I can tell her about that. But she brings her face right back against mine. 

“You can whisper it in my ear,” she urges me in a calm voice. "No one else will ever know.”

Willow spits in her palm, rubs it over my cock, then reforms the little circle around the head again. She’s right there, waiting for me, not moving. And I know I can trust her.

“Three years.”

I close my eyes. She kisses me again.

“There you go. Not so complicated, huh?”

The little giggle I let out dissipates years of stress and anxiety.

“Now you can fuck my hand. But tell me before you cum.”

I stare at her. Her tone is so casual I can’t tell if it’s another joke. She notices me hesitating, rolls her eyes, then leans in to whisper into my ear again.

“Fuck my hand like those guys fucked your little tush.”

My first thrust is frantic. With my ankles and wrists tied to the cross, I have to maneuver carefully. Whenever I go too hard, the momentum makes my ass slap against the hard wood behind me.

Willow stays firmly in place. Her arm has to be getting sore holding that awkward angle while I fuck her hand, but she doesn’t flinch. She just tightens her fingers, adjusting her grip to account for my size.

She whispers dirty things in my ear. My brain barely processes the actual words, but her tone alone is enough to drive me wild. She smells so good. She feels so soft on my naked skin.

My abs burn when I manage to drag myself close to the edge.

“Don’t cum,” Willow barks. “You promised. That’s my cum.”

I’m not sure I technically promised anything. Still, I obey. For the best, too.

While I stare like an idiot, Willow drops to her knees in front of me, without letting go of my cock.

She looks up at me, a teasing smile on her lips, before parting them to take in my entire length.

Her palms come to rest on my hips, pushing her entire weight into me, keeping me from thrusting. Not that I could anyway. I’m too stunned.

Willow’s head bobs fast, taking me all the way in with lewd noises, then pulling back to lick my head. She works diligently toward collecting the orgasm I owe her.

I can’t look away. This is so uncanny. Almost unsexual, like she’s simply taking care of a chore. She has the same attitude as when she tucked my clothes away.

“I’m going to cum,” I hear myself say.

She could pull me out. Slap my balls. Make me cum on the floor and force me to lick it clean. I can think of a dozen scenarios, she could probably think of a hundred. Instead, she keeps me nestled on top of her tongue, inside her hot mouth.

My head lolls back as I let out the built-up orgasm, a throaty moan escaping my lips.

I hear Willow swallow below me. She keeps sucking until my tip gets too sensitive and I try to squirm away from her.

When she springs to her feet, face level with mine, I can’t tell she just had me inside of her mouth.

“Feeling okay?” Willow asks, in Willow’s voice, not the latex-wearing woman’s.

“Uh… Sorry about cumming in your mouth.” I can feel whatever weird energy we shared quickly evaporating from my body.

She shrugs and starts untying me. “You literally couldn’t move. If I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have. Don’t worry. Besides, I worked hard to get you there.”

I can finally lower my arms.

“Feeling okay?” she repeats, pulling me into her.

“Shoulders are sore.”

“Of course,” she says, pressing a kiss to my forehead, fingers back to playing with my hair. “It should be gone by morning. I have some lotion if you need it. But that’s not really what I’m asking. I think you know that.”

I really don’t want to think about what I just confessed. There’s no way we can just go back to how our friendship was before.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” I sound downright defeated.

“Never.” She tilts my chin up and forces me to look straight in her eyes. “I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to start telling everyone your business, okay?”

I nod sheepishly.

“Do you need water? Or your clothes back?”

“No.”

She plants a wet peck on my lips, then leads me toward the comfy corner of the room.

“We’re going to wind down a little, then I’ll get you settled in the guest bedroom for the night. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive right now.”

Willow sinks into the bean bag, then pats her lap.

At first, I kneel down and bend over awkwardly. But she guides me to lie on the thick, fuzzy rug, head resting on her warm, bare thigh. My arms naturally circle her waist.

She softly pets my hair, my back. One hand trails over my ass, but never strays.

“That was a lot for a first session,” she says softly. “But you were super brave. I’m really proud of you.”

“First?” I can’t help the dumb grin on my face.

“I’d love to play with you again.”

Her thighs are parted, and with how deep the bean bag goes, the skirt rides up a little. She’s clearly not wearing underwear. Even with the dim lights of the room, I can see a tangle of dark curls.

She spreads her legs further, and I panic, tearing my eyes away to scan her expression. She’s got a proud smirk on.

“You can look, but you can’t touch.”

I resist the temptation to hide my face in her thigh.

“You should enjoy it while you can. I’m not always going to be so nice.”

“Nice? We don’t have the same definition.”

Willow wipes the sweat from my forehead.

“If you still don’t think I’m a psycho in the morning, then we can start discussing what that would look like. But yeah, I want to do some really nasty shit to you.”

“You’re not a psycho.”

She boops my nose.

“Why, thank you. But you’re full of hormones and adrenaline right now. You probably think I’m the coolest person in the world.”

I roll my eyes. Dropping the dominatrix persona really is doing a number on her charisma.

“That’s why we’re not going to have any serious conversation tonight,” she continues. “You’re not really yourself. You’re just my sweet good boy.”

Any protest I might have is dashed when I think for a second. I’m lying naked on my friend’s rug, head on her thighs while she’s exposing herself to me. Yeah, she might have a point.