His grip on me never wavers.
I stay as silent as he does, though I want to ask him so many questions. I want to know if he is angry with me, though that is hardly a question I need to ask, I suppose. I tried to make him angry. So of course he is.
Everything he has tried to give me, I have thrown in his face. He’s probably going to put me in some kind of dungeon and not let me go anywhere or do anything until the war is over. That’s what I’d do, if I were him.
Triton leads me all the way to his room. Not my room. His. I look at the bed, the great expanse of soft foam and silken sheets. It seemed strange at first, to see a bed in the water, but already the water is starting to seem just like the air used to. I am becoming accustomed to breathing it. It no longer feels wet against my skin. Instead, it is starting to feel as though I have been given the gift of much greater agility. Perhaps I have been given that gift. My experience of this realm is entirely mediated by Triton. I am sure if Triton willed it, I could become heavy and broken and cold beneath these waters as thousands of generations of my human ancestors have.
All that stands between me and the end of myself is him.
“Stay,” he says. It’s just a single world but it finds me in my gut and makes me obey. The thrill of disobedience has disappeared entirely. Now I am wondering what the inevitable consequences will be.
He goes to one of the many fine chests in his chamber, reaches in, and begins to pull out loops of something that looks like rope. The sight of it brings a whimper to my lips, even though I don’t yet know what he has in store.
Triton walks toward me, and drapes a piece of the rope over my shoulder. It is innocent, for a moment, then he draws it down over my shoulder, down my belly between my breasts, and then up again between my thighs.
I gasp and jump a little, but he does not allow it.
“Stand still,” he says. Another two words which feel like welcome relief from the silence. I wish he’d tell me what he’s thinking. I want to know what the… my thoughts are disrupted as he winds the rope around under my breasts. There is a method to this, and it is more than tying me up to stop me leaving. If that’s what he wanted to do, it would be more simple than this.
“You will not stay where you are left, and I will not have you stealing dolphins and engaging in acts of pointless rebellion. You can and will be harmed if you are not careful - and you are not careful. You do not know Swimmingsley, and yet you followed him to his home. There are fresh hatchlings who know not to go with strangers who tell you they have puppies.”
He winds the rope around me. It is smooth, but strong, like the leather of the ocean. It snugs against my sex, tightening against my lower lips with a grip which feels intimate and yet disciplinary.
I am in trouble.
The real kind of trouble. Not the naughty-girl-gets-sent-to-her-room kind of trouble. The kind where I lose something that matters.
“There is a time to obey, and when it comes to me, that time is always.”
Triton is many things. A god. A king. He has also become my captor and tormentor.
I squirm, testing the bonds, but I know instinctively that they will not loosen. Triton is not careless. I thought I was getting away with something when I slipped out of my room, but he knew what I was doing all along. He anticipated my moves before I made them, and now I cannot make any moves at all.
He does not stop at one tie, or two. His hands are rough, but careful as they wind around my body, my dress becoming an irrelevance as the tightening of his ties makes it fit my form perfectly. They wrap around under my breasts, holding them up like a brassiere. They also snake around my waist, with the effect of corseting me tightly.
Triton
She is supple and nubile. She is willing, and by the scent drifting through the water, I can surmise that she is wet, her essence becoming one with the ocean.
“You will stay in these until the morning comes,” I tell her. “You were given enough freedom to demonstrate your refusal to obey. Now you will understand what it is to be without freedom. To be completely captive. Never again will you complain about being controlled when the truth is you were being given as much freedom as was safe.”
I do not speak in a lecturing tone. I keep my voice in a smooth purr, allowing her to become accustomed to her bonds. I have made very certain that they will not make her uncomfortable. She can, and will stay trussed up like this for several hours.
The point of this exercise is to let her experience control, and to allow her to sink into it. I think Lucy will come to enjoy these ties. I think she already does. She’s capable of relaxing into my authority, but she’s not going to do it without being shown how.
I lay her down on the bed. She whimpers softly, but does not fight me. I don’t think she really wants to, but even if she could, she is far too well bound to be able to even begin to struggle. Soon it will be completely impossible.
I wind the rope round her legs, crossing it over itself until it draws them close. This particular set of ties leads her to look almost like a mermaid, the knots of the ties settling in the gap between her thighs and calves.
She’s beautiful, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders and over the silken sheets, tendrils playing in the little currents and eddies produced by our motions.
I am enjoying the silence. No complaints. No arguing. No sass. Just beautiful compliance elicited by these enchanted bindings.
She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound emerges. These bindings have more than practical applications. Their enchantments make the recipient much more biddable, as well as far quieter - which means actions not yet taken, ones which involve punishment and pain will not lead to uncouth sounds escaping.
Lucy
I can’t move.
I feel as though I should be panicking, but I can’t muster panic. The ties actually make me feel… safe? I am wrapped up and contained. I am held and completely helpless. I have to rely on him now. I have to hope that he will be merciful, while knowing that he will absolutely not be.
Triton lies down beside me and reaches for me. I am bound by his ties, and held tight in his arms. He embraces me, and I feel all the stress and worry of the last hours come rushing out in a torrent of tears.
I draw in deep breaths, taking in water every time, but still breathing thanks to his charms. Triton is so powerful. I should never have crossed him, and yet it is my fate to cross him.
“Shhh," he gentles me, running his fingers through my hair, being so soft and so tender I almost start to feel safe. The ties which at first felt like a punishment are starting to make me feel secure. These tight bonds make it impossible to move, and so I have to surrender because there is no other choice.
“You don't have to punish me any more,” I whimper.
“I haven’t even begun punishing you,” he murmurs, pressing a bristled kiss to my cheek. “You were a bad girl, weren’t you.”
I was a bad girl. A deliberate bad girl, because I wanted this. Needed this. His intimacy is worth a thousand sins.
There are layers to my predicament, and as my tears dry and my panic fades, I start to become aware of the excited heat between my thighs. I like this. I like him.
Until he decides to spank me.
I know what is going to happen the moment he lifts me over his knee and I find myself face down, looking at the ground, my hair floating about my face, obscuring my vision.