Warnings: Serious BDSM. Consensual, tasteful, beautiful, and very, very violent.
If the term "S/M" makes you think of Fifty Shades Of Gray, if you're under age, if you have a weak heart, if you're looking for a little chocolate sauce to put on your vanilla, or if sexual torture just isn't your thing, run.
I know that most of the activities (to be) described are extreme, creepy, dangerous, against many religions and sets of personal morals, and generally flame inducing.
There seem to be two main types of smut available: the fluffy, fun, vanilla, McAbby-at-christmas-ish type and the kinky obscene dirty Tibbs-swearing-non-con-ish type. I am writing fill a very disappointing gap, the lack of fluffy, tasteful, loving BDSM, which in the real world, seems to be the most common (and most enjoyable, and safest) way to engage in BDSM.
The inspiration and theme for this story is the amazing work of She Wants Revenge, I highly recommend you youtube them. For ease of youtubing, each chapter in named after the song it contains.
I own nothing, obviously.
~ I Don't Wanna Fall In Love ~
Abby had a new obsession, again. It was playing at full volume.
I know that you're the right girl,
But do you think that I am the right man?
The beat was different,
One
it pulled you in,
Two
it forced you to move.
Three
The chord progression was simple,
Four Five Six Seven
but unexpected, it made you bounce.
Right face, wrong time,
She's sweet
But I don't wanna fall in love.
Abby quickly threw her hips from side to side, air drummed, head banged, swinging her black pigtails in sync with her red skirt.
Too late, so deep,
Better run 'cause
I don't wanna fall in love.
Ziva stood to the door, just watching. If pressed, she would have said she didn't want to interrupt, which was true. She really didn't. If strip clubs could offer this, they'd get twice the business, without anyone having to remove anything. She'd been watching for half the song when Abby noticed her, but she didn't expect what happened next. Abby grabbed her hand expecting her body to follow, which it didn't, not willingly. Ziva was jerked forward, to her surprise, and was about to fight back, purely out of instinct, when Abby pulled then together into her crazy dance. Ziva submitted. Abby had the right idea, it was fun, it felt right, it felt carnal, it felt good.
Too late, so deep
He sang it with conviction, such frustration, it was red, animalistic and above all, sexual.
Can't sleep,
Can't eat,
Can't think straight
Neither could Ziva. In the centre of Abby's energy, violence, heat, scent, she'd stopped trying.
I don't wanna fall in love.
She didn't think there was any risk of that, but there was a huge, almost unavoidable risk of doing something stupid and unprofessional. The song came to a sudden stop and they stood leaning against each other panting for a moment
Ziva knew there were only two things that could come next, and immediately set about organizing the more sensible one. She lightly laughed at Abby's exuberance and left, quickly. As soon as the elevator doors closed, she hit the emergency stop and collapsed against the wall. How did that almost happen?