criticalkink | Critical Role kink meme post #3: Unprompted Kinky Writing

For people to share their kinky writing that doesn't fit a particular meme prompt. (Links can still be shared to the Completed Fills post.)

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From: (Anonymous)

Erika feels exposed as he pulls her panties off and drapes them over the railing at the foot of the bed; more so as he begins binding her other leg, calmly focusing on the ropework as though he hasn’t just spread her thighs enough to be able to look straight at the gleam of slick arousal between them. He stops halfway through to roll his sleeves up to mid-forearm and Erika hitches a worried breath, wondering if the gesture’s to precede a slap or something more intimate, but he's just getting them out of the way.

Ivan finishes the frog tie and looks down at her to admire his handiwork. Erika experimentally tries to close her thighs; she can bring them together a little bit more, but not much. She wasn’t expecting to be comfortable bound ankle to thigh, but it’s surprisingly not too bad.

Then Ivan spreads her wide again, passing a cord from each ankle up to her elbows with a jingle of metal rings, and this time she can’t close her legs at all.

It’s embarrassing how aroused she is. There’s still that undercurrent of fear, true, but his level gaze on her, now slowly roaming over her body from rose collar down to wet pink folds, is filled with heat. Erika can feel the hairs on her arms prickling, her nipples hardening, and squirms a little in the confines of the jacket, trying to relieve the tension.

“I’m going to make you fly,” Ivan says, voice darkly promising, and the overhead ropes come into play, attaching to she’s not even sure what on the back of the jacket. He gives them good solid tugs before he hoists her so much as an inch off the bed, silently demonstrating their strength. Erika nods. This is a multi-layered trust exercise and that trust goes both ways; Ivan has to know that Erika’s all right with each step before continuing.

She feels exhilaration on top of everything else as he lifts her in earnest. Being manhandled across the room was one thing; this is entirely different. Dangling in the air, feeling the tug at her back but also the way her slight weight is distributed across the ropes. Ivan raises her to a foot off the bed, lowers her almost right back down as a test of the ropes’ flexibility, and then raises her again til she’s two feet off the bed and swaying a little before coiling the ropes around blunt hooks on the uprights and tying them off to keep her in the air.

“What a pretty little petal, tangled up in my web,” Ivan says softly, watching her with dark intent eyes. His earlier formal disinterest is long gone. With a touch he sets her slowly spinning. Erika moans, disorientation quick to grip her desire-dazed mind. She can’t turn far before the ropes cling to each other and turn her back the other way, but it’s plenty.

Ivan picks up the petal that she spat out from the white hospital waffle blanket that covers the bed. Reaching between her legs, his eyes lock on hers as he slowly rubs it along her slick vulva. Erika whimpers and closes her eyes, but she can still feel it when he presses the petal firmly against her clit, rubbing a couple of tiny circles before withdrawing his hand and leaving the petal stuck to her.

“I think this story’s beginning to center too much on one emotion,” Ivan says, and his voice has gone from darkly seductive to cold. He loosens his tie and pulls it free, and though Erika tries to tilt her head away the silk drops over her eyes and all she gets is a couple of rose scratches for her troubles as Ivan knots the blindfold in place.

Darkness falls, and so does silence.

“Ivan?” Erika asks after what she thinks is a minute.

The darkness says nothing. Erika strains her ears but she doesn’t think she can even hear him breathing. He didn’t leave the room; she would have heard the door. But she can’t hear him or anything else, and it makes the darkness close in tighter.

“Ivan?” Her voice is small; scaredy-cat is emerging again. “Ivan, talk to me.”

The silence continues. Her skin feels like it’s creeping and maybe he’s touching her legs with something and maybe she’s just imagining it. She’s beginning to tremble, and it’s making her swing, and the dizzying disorientation is worse in the dark.

“Ivan, please!”

“Boo,” Ivan whispers immediately next to her ear, and Erika shrieks.

Now she can hear him, because as she gets her shit together and stops screaming, he’s laughing; a low, nasty chuckle that sends shivers down her spine. “Oh, scaredy-cat.” He gives her a small push that starts her swinging harder and Erika shrieks again, feeling the world whirl unseen around her.

After a long moment of swinging in space, she hears the squeak of bedsprings and then his arms are around her, bringing her back to equilibrium. His breath is warm on her ear, and there’s a rapidity to it that speaks of excitement, of delight at seeing her in this predicament.

“Look at you, you beautiful creature.” His voice holds the same note of enjoyment. “Where would you even go, if you could get down? Would you crawl out of here to seek help, even if it meant being seen so helpless...” His fingers spider-walk up her thigh again. “So helpless and so wet.”

He’s barely grazing her outer labia and yet Erika can feel that his fingertips are practically gliding over her skin.

“There’d be someone,” she whispers.

“There’d be someone who wouldn’t understand,” Ivan counters. “Don’t you think you’re safer in here... with me?” His lips caress the side of her head, where the newly shorn stubble means she can feel his mouth warm on her scalp.

“No.” Erika tilts her head away from him and feels the thorns bite into her throat again. She’d almost forgotten about the rose collar. “In here, maybe. With you, no.”

Ivan draws in a long breath and lets it out in a satisfied sigh that has a definite sexual quality to it. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Erika gives up on words. She knows where his face is from his breath. She turns her head and spits at him.

“Fuck!” She hears the shifting of the mattress as he pulls back. She doesn’t know whether she hit him or not but feels terribly smug at the reaction that she’s elicited. “Oh, petal, you’re going to regret that.” There’s a moment where she doesn’t know what he’s doing and then the scent of her own arousal comes strongly to her. “Open your mouth.” Lace brushes against her lips; Erika presses them together and shakes her head. “Open it!”

“Mh,” Erika says, shaking her head again.

Ivan’s fingers find her throat, but it’s only with the barest of light touches, a soft press of his thumb under her chin. “Open it,” he says for the third time, and Erika opens her mouth, tasting herself on the damp satin that makes contact with her tongue as Ivan pushes the small bundle between her lips.

“No more spitting. And no more of that silly screaming.” He cups her face between his hands and kisses her forehead. “Well, I suppose you can scream if you like, although you’ll only get a sore throat.”

Erika makes a helpless muffled noise through the gag and hears another of those sighs. When he speaks again his voice holds more than a hint of desire.

“What are you really afraid of here, scaredy-cat?” One finger traces along the top of the blindfold, then down her nose, before coming to rest on her upper lip. “The darkness?” Erika shakes her head. “The disorientation?” He spins her roughly and she squeals, but shakes her head again once he pulls her back to stillness. “Me touching you?” His hands grip her thighs, pulling her against him; she can feel he’s still wearing his shirt and quite possibly everything else as well. She makes a negatory noise and shakes her head for a third time.

“Or...” His fingertip nudges against her clit, dislodging the petal, which flutters to the blanket. “Are you afraid I’ll stop touching you? That I’ll leave you here like this, wet and needy with no recourse to relief?”

Erika nods.

“Ahhhh.” Ivan kisses her forehead again, and then the squeak and shift of springs announces that he’s relocating. She still can’t see him, of course, but every thrill of fear, every pulse of hot anger, is turning to desire, and dear god if he really does leave her now she’s going to have to chew through the canvas and get herself off. She makes a helpless sound of wanting and hears him laugh.

She also hears the sounds of his belt buckle, and a zip, and two thuds as his shoes hit the floor. Suddenly she’s gripped by the need to see him, to touch him, and her hands flex uselessly inside the straitjacket.

A hand touches hers through the stiff material. “Cramps?”

“Nh.”

“Numb?”

“Nh.”

“Just stretching?”

“Nh.”

Ivan pulls her panties out of her mouth. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Want to touch you,” Erika says plaintively.

“Do you, now?” He sounds amused. “You’re not interested in finding out what else I have in mind for you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then choose.” His breath and then his whiskers tickle her lips as he offers her a soft kiss. “There’s no time that you can’t change your mind.” He touches the rose, plucks a single petal, and brushes it against her cheek. “Just say the word.”

Erika doesn’t have to think it over. “I don’t want to interrupt the story.”

Ivan kisses her again. “Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs.

He still gags her once more, but this time she thinks she can work it loose on her own if she wants to. It’s nice to have the option on the table; maybe she can turn his own dirty talk back on him.

From: (Anonymous)

Then he’s slipping a finger inside her, taking her quite by surprise--she was expecting more emotional turmoil--and making her moan. His thumb is on her clit and though she can’t see him she can picture his studious expression as he touches her, seeing what she can take and what makes her squirm for more. It’s only when he pushes a second finger into her that she realizes just how turned on this combination of rollercoaster feelings and physical play has made her; she can hear his fingers move slick in her, and he lets out a satisfied, “Ahhhh, good,” that’s on the verge of just being a groan of lust.

His fingers go away and Erika makes a disgruntled noise. She hears the soft slurp of him licking his fingers clean and starts hoping like hell that he comes back for a proper taste, but he shifts away. Her face must show her frustration despite the blindfold and gag because he lets out another low laugh.

There’s some more motion, below her this time, and now she can hear more urgent wet sounds, skin on skin, and sighing. There’s no way he’s not already rock hard after playing with her so much, so he’s up to something else.

Then the ropes holding her up shake, and she’s moving--vertically, this time, instead of around in circles. One side drops a little faster than the other and she feels the slippery press of his cock against her left thigh first; he’s definitely stroked lube over himself. More than he needs to, considering her state of arousal. Why?

The ropes steady once more with Erika hovering just above Ivan, and when he begins working the head of his cock against her, impossibly slick and teasing and not quite where she wants it, needs it, she starts keening softly.

When he relents and slips inside her, she feels like she’s too wet, like she’s not going to get far without more touching, and he lets her attempt to rub against him, to take him deeper, to anything, for a good minute, until she’s writhing in frustration and just about ready to try spitting at him again to see if he’ll at least slap her ass or something.

She can tell when he unhooks the ropes again because there’s another lopsided jerk and suddenly he’s driven deeper into her. No--she’s dropped further onto him. She hears him groan and tries to rock atop him while he’s still getting the ropes figured out, but he’s too quick for that. Erika finds herself rising again until he’s barely in her, just the head pressed within her entrance.

“Look at you.” His voice is thick with lust and she doesn’t think it’s even remotely an act anymore. “Precious petal. Are you still scared I’ll leave you wanting?” She shakes her head, hears him laugh. “Maybe you should be.”

A moment later she understands his meaning, as he begins to manipulate the ropes. Unable to exert any real movement in her own right, she’s left with only the strange but not unpleasant sensation of being moved on him. It must be hell on his arms, though she’s seen the strength that they hold, but he seems to be holding out all right. Her wetness and the lube mean that she moves on him easily, too easily for her liking, and how he can stand the slick, almost frictionless tease she doesn’t know.

“My pretty puppet, all tied up in my web.” His voice is dark, caressing, but she can hear the undercurrent of tension that speaks of quickening need. She can feel it in his cock, too, sliding within her; he’s hot and hard and for the first time she realizes that in his own way he’s been getting every bit as turned on as her through this whole scene, and if she’s delirious with wanting then he’s probably in the same place. “Dance for me, darling doll of mine.” He pulls her up, almost right off him again, and Erika tries in vain to move down, to take him back in. Though she knows she’s only just above the bed now, she feels as though she’s flying miles up, only the solidity of his cock inside her anchoring her to the ground. A little lower, and he holds her there until she’s bucking her hips frantically, needing, craving more than half of his length.

“Please!” The word bursts from her lips; she hadn’t even realized that she’d spit out the gag until it does. “Please, oh, please...”

“You want the teasing to stop, puppet?” Rough quick words. No finesse.

“Yes!”

“Sure?”

“Please!”

For a few moments longer her torments her with long slippery strokes, but she can tell from the quality of his breathing that he’s close. He lowers her right down, and fuck he fills her up so nicely, and Erika feels his hips lift, feels the slow hard pulse of him inside her as his persona shatters in that moment and he cries out her name--

--and then he lifts her back up off him. Just. Right off him, leaving her empty and aching and, after a dazed moment of figuring out that technically he did stop teasing her, swearing.

“Oh fuck, Ivan, fuck you, damn it! I need--I want--”

Her protests end there because he ties the ropes off again, scoots down the bed in a rustle of blankets, and oh fuck okay starts licking her clean. Really clean, really thoroughly, the flat of his tongue working in broad sweeps over her labia to clean off his own essence, and then as she begins to gasp and whimper, pushing inside her to curl and move there.

For some reason, this is what triggers the thought Ivan, you kinky bastard for her, and Erika starts giggling helplessly. He’s restrained and suspended and otherwise messed with her, but licking his own come out of her? Yeah, apparently according to her mind, that’s the tipping point.

She’s still giggling when he seals his lips around her clit, tongue sliding against her with certainty, and the sound turns to gasping as heat thrills through her. The gasps turn to low urgent cries as he brings her close, and for one moment he takes his mouth off her and she thinks he’s going to start in again with denying her what she so desperately wants--

--and then his mouth closes over her again, lips and tongue working hard, and Erika no longer feels any connection with the ground at all; she’s hanging suspended in a place of pure pleasure that rocks her body, tearing cries of delight from her as loud as her screams of fear earlier.

She’s still trembling with aftershocks and he keeps going, pushing her over that edge again, and her cries turn back to gasps as breathing eludes her, too overwhelmed by the full-body reaction he’s wringing out of her to let such silly things as basic autonomic functions cross her mind.

And then he does it again, and it’s good, so good, but it’s also enough, she’s getting uncomfortably close to the point where she’ll be way overstimulated, and she manages to get out the words, “Stop, Ivan, stop, the end.”

He pulls the ropes, lifts her up, and rolls out from underneath her before lowering her gently to the mattress. There’s a very brief pause as he evidently puts his clothing back together, probably so his pants don’t fall down while he’s untying her. That’s okay; Erika lets herself flop onto her back, feeling embraced by the warm darkness.

“Okay, petal.” She has no idea how he regained his composure so fast but he certainly seems to have done so, his fingers skimming over her thighs as he unties each ankle. “Careful now... stretch out slowly. Any pins and needles?”

“No.” Erika flexes her legs, points her toes, taking her time. She’s surprised by how comfortable the frog tie was, though she has the feeling she’ll have the rope imprinted on her skin for some time. That’s fine; it isn’t anywhere anyone’s going to see.

“Do you want to sit up, or do you want to roll over?”

“Am I going to fall if I roll?”

“Not if I help you.”

It’s less of a roll than a shuffle, and a lot of it depends on Ivan more or less shoveling her over onto her stomach, but Erika’s growing quite accustomed to him lifting her around, and in fact is also growing to enjoy it.

The buckles at her back come undone, and she feels the sleeves come loose, and right then her right shoulder seizes up. She lets out a cry of pain.

“Where?” Ivan asks immediately.

“Right shoulder.”

He gathers her up into his arms. “Can you stand? Just for a moment?”

“Yes. Wait.” Erika plants one foot on the floor, her shoulder singing in agony, and braces her other knee on the bed. “Okay.”

Ivan’s fingers are quick on the buckles and he doesn’t need to tell her to unfold her arms carefully. She’s maybe a little too quick to straighten her left arm and it twinges a little, but she wants her left hand functioning as fast as possible to rub her right shoulder when Ivan eases the jacket all the way off.

“No, petal, let me.” Ivan slips the tie off from over her eyes and Erika keeps them closed, prepared for the room to be as bright as it was before the blindfold went on, but to her surprise she eases them open to see that there’s just low lamplight, cast from a lamp on a low table at the foot of the bed that she doesn’t recall seeing when she came in. The round-ended safety scissors are on it, along with a spare hank of rope, and a big bottle of water that makes her salivate just looking at it.

She becomes aware that she’s shivering a little. Ivan bundles her up in a blanket and presses the bottle into her left hand, then sits down against the head of the bed and pulls her close against him, those clever fingers working at the knot in her right shoulder. It loosens almost immediately and Erika sighs with relief, grabbing for the screw cap of the water bottle and opening it to take a big drink. The water is blessedly cool on her scream-raw throat.

Ivan keeps massaging her shoulders, reaches around to carefully unhook the rose collar, and sets it down beside them, not that there’s much room on the narrow single bed. Erika feels the soft press of his lips kissing each little scratch that it left and sighs with pleasure.

“Do you love me now?” His voice still holds more than a hint of the Storyteller.

“Of course I do.” Her shoulder still aches, her neck itches, and her clit’s going to be too sensitive to touch for hours, but she loves him very much.

She feels the curve of his smile against the nape of his neck. “And they all lived happily ever after.”