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"You don't really know?"
"No…" Armin's fingers scratch his chin, trying to recall if he has read about this before, "I've read no book about such a thing before."
"I'm not surprised. It's a practice from Hizuru, so I wouldn't expect you to know too much about it." You shrug, playing with the vibrant red ropes loosely surrounding your limbs.
"…What is it?" Armin's curiosity gets the best of him.
You toss him a thin book that covers the topic, but before Armin can even skim through the pages, you already start explaining ahead, "It's called Shibari. It's a decorative bondage technique that originated from Hizuru. I got to borrow a book or two on it from Ms. Azumabito in exchange for information! Isn't it cool?!"
Armin's cheeks grow hot at the images drawn on the pages of the book, intricate sketches of naked individuals being bound into various positions by rope swamp his sight. Each swipe of his finger to turn the page is met with more images, just now different in poses. He is shocked, to say the least.
He slams the book closed with a loud clap, his eyes squinting closed and face burning up in redness as he struggles to unlearn the pictures he just saw. Sometimes, knowledge is a double-edged sword.
"It is cool… Haha…" He tries to make fun of the topic, like it was something that was only brought up because you were someone like him, someone who is absorbed in books and knowledge. Even if he thinks that he'll regret asking, his lips open to question, "So what's the rope for?"
A beat of silence fills the air as you stare at him with darkening intent in your eyes. Armin chuckles nervously, a lump in his throat forming as he watches you stand up from the edge of your bed just opposite him and walk toward him. He grips the armrest of the chair where he is seated firmly, veins faintly beginning to pulse evidently from his hold.
"Your parents are just downstairs—!"
"The door's locked, Armin. It'll be fine." You don't wait for more of his protests, as you already begin to wrap rope around his arms to tie them to the wood of the arms of the chair, "They trust that you won't do any harm to me."
But you to him? It's quite debatable.
His soft whimpers fill the air as the rope extends to place his back flat on the back of the chair, leaving little space for him to wiggle out of your knots. You occasionally slip a finger or two in between the rope and his skin to observe if the cords are too harsh on his skin. Thankfully, you have read the books you've gotten from Ms. Azumabito multiple times to actually do it well.
You take a step back to admire your work. Armin is sweating buckets with a strained smile on his face, trying to test the tautness of the knots by gently writhing on the chair. His arms are planted on the armrests, the same way his legs are tethered to the legs of the chair. He has basically become one with the chair.
"It's not much; we'll have to put you in more difficult positions next time." You say with an unusual tone in your voice, as if already thinking of the next poses you can tie Armin in.
Next time…?
You kneel in front of him, placing your palms on his knees to rub gentle circles on them, assuring him with a soft, pleading look in your eyes that tells him that he'll be okay. Your hands travel higher to his thighs until your fingers play around the edges of his growing bulge straining on his pants.
"You know your safe word, right?"
"You're cruel…" He sniffles with eager nods, every attempt to buck his hips to bring his bulge closer to your hand strained on the rope holding his pelvis in place.
Tears begin to pool on Armin's tear ducts as you indulge his silent pleas with your palms in vigorously rubbing on his clothed bulge, the side of your head lies on his thigh, and he barely feels your exhales even amidst his layers of clothing.
A moan erupts from Armin's lips, and you are quick to stand up from your kneeling position to lodge your middle and ring fingers inside his mouth to silence him, "Quiet down, Armin…"
He closes his lips around your fingers and moans with eyes closed, still enchanted by the feeling of your hands incessantly rubbing his rock-hard bulge. His moans hitch up a tone to a whimper as his body forcefully hunches down, cumming hard on nothing but your hand.
You feel his teeth putting pressure on your fingers with a delicate bite as his semen starts to stain his pants and underwear. With the one hand you used to rub him, you undo the buttons of his bottoms and fish his still hard dick out.
You feel him shake his head sideways aggressively, pleading with glazed eyes for you to give him time to recover from his previous orgasm. But, as stubborn as you are, your desire to see Armin's usually composed facade crumble at your touch overpowers any kind of appeals from Armin's gagged mouth.
You sit on top of Armin's legs, your face in close distance with his. Your fingers never leave his mouth, and you use them to guide his head to have him face you, "Keep your eyes open."
You angrily fist his dick with your hand, your eyes never leaving his as you lather your moving hand with his cum to pump his cock better. Armin's eyebrows furrow, focused on keeping his eyes open as you requested, staring at you with a look that could be easily mistaken for anger. But anger wasn't what Armin was feeling. He feels overwhelmed, he feels like he's being eaten alive, and he feels as if everything that happened in the world has ultimately led Armin and you to this exact moment—him tied up at your mercy, and you rapidly bobbing your hand on his dick.
You force your fingers deeper into his mouth, knocking your knuckles on his teeth as you do so. You play with the inner parts of his mouth with the tips of your fingers, adamant on triggering his gag reflex. The tears that Armin fought back all those minutes ago begin to freely fall from his eyes and down his cheeks.
"So beautiful like this, Armin. We should do this more often…" You smile with malicious intent, already visualizing your next moments with Armin.
Armin's legs fight through his restraints, knees resisting against the rope as his whole body shakes violently.
"Close…" He garbles even with your fingers in his mouth, fighting against your fingers as his head throws back in immense pleasure, the pressure on his abdomen amassing as he reaches his climax. You move your hand on his dick with unmatched speed, your palm making sure to leave no part of his cock untouched.
A few more pumps of your fisted hand and Armin's back arches to buck his hips up higher away from his chair, cumming with long, wanton moans from his fingered mouth. His eyes shut closed as spurts of his semen come out of his dick and taint the ropes, his clothes, and your hand.
You slowly pull your fingers out of his hand, and he is quick to chant his pleas, "No more, too much… Ha…! Wait—!"
You back away from Armin's lap to shimmy off your bottoms and your panties. You return to your previous position on his lap, your pussy now closing in on the tip of his dick. You place one hand on his shoulder to balance yourself on top of him, and the other wraps around the base of his dick to line him up to your entrance.
You place your forehead on top of his, staring at his eyes as you sternly say, "Your safe word. Say it and I'll stop."
Armin stares back with tears continuously flowing from the sides of his eyes. In response to your request and its implications if he follows it, he merely purses his lips tight, remaining silent at all times.
You chuckle, visibly pleased by his choice. Your hand on his shoulder goes to touch the planes of his cheek, and you gently swipe his tears away with your thumb. You bring your tear-soaked thumb to your tongue to earnestly lick at it, and at the same time, you sink on his dick with one rough movement, shocking Armin to his core, suddenly being enveloped by your tight, warm walls.
A choked groan leaves his mouth, and you shut him off with an open-mouthed kiss. You move your ass up and down, ignoring Armin's trembling figure as you do so, only focused on milking his cock dry. Your silent moans mix with his muted whines, his voice trembling at each exhale he attempts.
He pushes his head back to announce to you with a slurring voice, "I'm so close… Faster, p-please…"
He attempts to buck his hips, wanting to match your thrusts with his as he comes closer to his high. You oblige his request, slapping your ass faster and harder on his dick, eliciting more vulgar noises out of his mouth.
"Cumming, cumming, cumming….!" He cries, his head bowing to lie on your moving shoulder, growing more tired by the second, his third orgasm coming to rip at his most inner organs.
Armin expects you to pull out of him when he cums like he always does, but you remain inside him, pumping him to his climax with your grooved walls. Wholly consumed by lust, he pays it no mind to cum inside you, painting your cervix and walls white with his semen.
He groans on your shoulder, his body finally laxing on the chair.
"What about you…?" He pants through his breathlessness, noticing your movements still after he came inside you. You hush him, wrapping your arms around his head, already content that Armin indulged your antics to have him tied to a chair and be milked dry.
"The thought of us doing this another time already fills me with joy."