From last chapter: Vegeta and Bulma began their journey with a whip, revelation, and release. Now, the rope.

Bulma's right boot heel, gleaming with polish, pressed down on Vegeta's chest as he lay blindfolded on the floor. His linen pants were down partly, displaying his sizable dick. The pair had been ready for their bondage phase, but Bulma had a prize to claim after her marathon session with him on the rack. They rested together in bed to settle themselves before starting up again.

Bulma partially unfastened her boot, allowing him to feel her calf and pull the zipper to the end. Vegeta guessed where this path might lead, but his focused partner expected him to remain silent.

"I'm not ready yet," she said. Her songbird tone contrasted with the grinding heel. "I'm still thinking."

Vegeta's hand pulled back. He liked her feet, but he could tolerate being unable to play with them. His obedience drew a smile from her, he knew. She soon returned seriousness. The leggings had been removed, along with her panties. Vegeta held them beneath his nose soon after being blindfolded. A cushioned spread supported his back. He appeared fully comfortable - maybe a little too comfortable.

"Sleepy?" she asked.

Again, Vegeta said nothing. Instead, he defiantly grasped her heel's tip. He considered removing the cap just to needle her. Submission had its benefits and drawbacks. Bulma's penciled eyebrow rounded upward before she removed the boot and threw it aside. Her hand loosened a red sachet bound to her waist containing an oily, sweet-smelling perfume to brush down the curved path to her vagina. She glanced at the locked testicle cuff on Vegeta's dick, playing with an ornate, lattice-patterned key tied to her neck. She kissed Vegeta's cheek tenderly, rubbing his fingers on the key's grooves. His testicles were stretched down, making his dick appear longer. What a treat. She hadn't even done this with Yamcha, who at times shied from her more adventurous interests.

Vegeta inhaled, taking in the soothing aroma: vanilla. His lips parted while piano music played, with its slow, shadowy C-sharp triad of hard-key flourishes and dramatic pacing. It felt like the beginning of an epic poem. His thoughts shuttled to Bulma's red-hooded cape at Panchy's stable. He wanted to take her right there, holding her face beneath the cloak for the deepest kiss he could muster.

Bulma had never anointed herself in this simple fragrance before. A heated surge pulsed between Vegeta's legs. Her ownership intensified as a single rose petal touched his nose. His primal senses stirred. This was different than anything he'd ever known. He had seen animals in heat before. Now he felt like one. His eyes were wild beneath that blindfold. He and Bulma were skilled at restraint before sex to enrich their experiences, but the rhapsodic cravings he felt at the stable clouded his mind.

Bulma fastidiously observed his shifting expressions, especially as his nostrils flared. Her right forefinger glided between his lips as her shapely legs spread over his chest. Vegeta finally broke his silence, exhaling. She moved his hands to her hips, permitting him to lift her midsection over his face. His mouth opened wider, licking the exterior of her labia folds as much as she allowed him to. Her scent urged more succulent kisses from him over those pink, silken lips leading to her primeval eroticism. How many times had he proudly claimed her fevered shouts as his tongue searched each eager nerve on each side of her inside? But this time, in this moment, she had captured him. No shouting or writhing this time.

Bulma's head arched backward, taking it all in. Her hands merely fingered through Vegeta's bushy hair, compelling a more profound vaginal massage. Vegeta continued to suckle her like a man with a tit. Her lips pursed as his tongue's tip danced around like a roguish sprite on her clit. Vegeta reached for her hands, sensing her body's change. She refused the invitation. He was gaining control, though he wasn't consciously trying. This was a meditation that would continue as their bondage rendezvous approached. Bulma's waist rocked as Vegeta's hands returned to her hips. He didn't want to stop pleasuring her, especially as the cuff's pressure increased his arousal.

"You can't take me fully," she said, holding his balls, "and you certainly won't reach orgasm in this way."

Vegeta stopped, withdrawing his tongue. "Neither will you, unless I have your permission to continue."

Bulma straightened her back, feeling his penetrating eyes almost bore holes through the blindfold.
His response was dignified and natural, nothing like the roughened, combative man the outer world wrangled with. This side had been there all along, she knew. Saiyans were warriors, but Vegeta had been taught the fundamentals of propriety as a child of royalty. He suppressed the full extent to further protect himself, having learned from his attendants' cautious instruction during his youngest years.

"How hard is this openness on you?" she asking, touching his cheek. "I sense something different."

"How invested are you in owning me, Bulma?"

"How invested are you in owning me, Vegeta?"

Neither meant ownership in the traditional sense. Neither could never, ever be possessed by anyone or anything, they believed. Not now. Bulma definitely believed that about herself. Never in a million years would Vegeta have thought he could say anything this intimate to anyone, especially to a woman. Would he be able to show loyalty and make the kind of sacrifices she deserved, knitting his soul to hers? In doing this, Bulma willingly served unmet needs as they explored their bodies' infinitude. He had no right or claim to any of this - absolutely no right at all. His swelling heart retreated.

After a lengthy silence between them, Bulma removed Vegeta's blindfold to kiss. "Remember, these kinds of situations can bring up many feelings that… can be strange and difficult to process. We won't second-guess ourselves. Searching for answers is less important than being present together now."

Vegeta's finger circled Bulma's clit's fleshy head, hoping she would allow him to finish. Her exhalation trembled with her full permission. His tongue stirred inside of her unhurriedly, lapping her up.

Clearly, they wouldn't be separating at sunrise.

Now completely naked, Bulma walked around examining Vegeta's bodily dimensions. He was dense and compact, so this tie-up would be significantly more challenging. He had to be more active to avoid becoming dead weight. His flowing white clothes complemented the taupe-colored rope between her teeth, with the rest stretching long behind them. Tall wooden slats formed a square around them, with suspension rings attached on each parallel plank at the top. A long and massive bamboo bar hung over their heads. Bulma walked behind him, drawing her hands down his shoulders. She breathed on his neck, unraveling the first set of ropes to tie his wrists together. She lifted them, wrapping the bundle around the top of his chest and forearms before retying his wrists. Another bundle encircled Vegeta's chest again, with Bulma tightening her grip. He listened to her short and long breaths. Standing from behind, she wrenched the ropes firmly with the symmetrical precision of an engineer.

She gripped his shoulders, expecting him to bend over. The bamboo bar dropped closer, allowing her to tie the rope like a pulley on his back. She yanked to increase Vegeta's sensation. His body still hung low. Then she gingerly pulled another tight handful of rope beneath his right thigh. His eyes closed.

And so it went.

By the end, Vegeta was tied from front to back on the floor. Bulma's foot added pressure at the bottom of his spine. She tugged on the rope inside of his bound legs before kneeling to observe. Another rope was placed between his teeth. Bulma's pattern coiled like refined - yet strong - tendrils. She wanted it to be understated and beautiful, not just to satisfy Vegeta, but also herself as the dominant partner.

She sat cross-legged in front to watch him for a while. His ki hummed enough for her to feel it. He had surrendered control in this meditative state. She knew how good that felt. The pitfalls of one's ego were suspended. She hoped Vegeta could call on those feelings during the hardest times - because those moments weren't going anywhere - after departing from his semi-hypnosis. He was powerful and determined. Bulma knew that a stable union of the warrior prince's physical and mental paths could be a juggernaut, but he needed to realize that for himself. But he still had a history. His actions couldn't be swept away like thin layers of dust. He fought to live and lived to fight. Casualties Bulma would likely never become aware of, both good and bad, would dwell within his soul for as long as he lived.

Bulma's fingers massaged the crown of his head. Her stimulation induced a lengthy inhalation from Vegeta. She wouldn't rush him from this mental retreat, being exhausted herself. She leaned over further, seeing wet spots on the floor. Vegeta hadn't felt his tears consciously, but only in his heart. Her mind changed about bringing him out of this. He had experienced enough.

She wiped his face with damp cloth. "Hey, listen to my voice, Vegeta. We're getting you out of this slowly. I'm not leaving, OK? I'm going to untie you."

"I'm…tired."

"I know you are," Bulma said soothingly. "We'll take care of that."

After he finally got on his feet, Vegeta rejected her offer to help him walk, despite still being somewhat disoriented. He felt an unmatched release in bondage that eluded his conscious mind: a condition Bulma called "sub-space." His tears were a part of that. She decided not to tell him about the crying, though, unless he asked for the entire story from start to finish.

"I can walk," he slurred. "Just let…let me sleep in our bed."

Did he just say our bed? Bulma looked at him. Yep, I need to get him there fast. He definitely should rest.

Vegeta shivered intensely soon after laying down - almost to the point of someone with rigors. Bulma covered him with a blanket, recognizing the reaction. An overwhelming liberation of hormones post-bondage didn't happen to her as much anymore. Her body was acclimated. Vegeta had been through a lot, too. If he never wanted to do this ever again, she would understand.

"Here, have some water," she said. "It's your first time, so you may sleep for a while."

"OK, and…"

"Shhh," Bulma scolded with a chuckle. "You don't get the last word, gorgeous."

She couldn't have too much fun at his expense. Calling him gorgeous would have likely cost her something terrible if he weren't in this condition. He hated all nicknames, especially after a lifetime of Frieza calling him "monkey" and "pet," which Bulma didn't know. She would never hear the end his wrath over being given a cutesy sobriquet that could completely wreck his fearsome reputation.

Fortunately, he fell asleep quickly.

There was nothing left to consider or be done, she thought, especially with West City's midmorning sunlight demanding her attention. No doubt that this would be a stay-at-home workday. Vegeta had to be checked on later and eat.

Her mind wandered as she guzzled a half-quart of sweet, refreshing orange juice. He might not want to be touched, which is fine, or maybe he'll accept a massage?

For now, she had to consider how much food to order - because there would be no cooking.

Bulma forgot about needing rest, too, while focusing on Vegeta's condition. She capsulized their food smorgasbord after realizing that he would be knocked out asleep much longer. He likely wasn't sleeping well before, she speculated. She wasn't either, to be honest, but figured that catching up on a snooze later wouldn't be difficult. Reviewing what seemed to be endless video messages from work didn't last more than an hour before sleep's call demolished her courageous attempt at productivity.

Almost two hours later, Vegeta emerged from her bedroom drying his hair after a steamy shower. His boxers also stuck to his ass uncomfortably. Bulma would laugh if she saw. He considered letting her sleep, as she did with him, after seeing her on the sofa. She wouldn't be upset if he left, he thought. His eyes were drawn to a note on the console table with an extensive menu - and its cost. Bulma must have been more tired than she realized, because she never left receipts of her purchases anywhere. She was rich. Having a nice car or two was fine, but leaving signs of her wealth everywhere was the height of tackiness, she believed. Vegeta liked that about her, despite his own pride in being a royal.

He also learned about Earth's monetary system soon after moving in with the Briefs. Knowing how much wealth it took for one to be kidnapped, threatened, murdered or stolen from would always factor into his decision making. Some planets didn't use money. Those that did were often more violent.

Bulma could afford to buy a million brunch dishes a million times over, but what she did from the beginning of their night together until its end brought up strong emotions. This time he knew exactly what they were. Leaving a deeply meditative bondage session could do that. His silent observance nudged Bulma awake as he knelt beside her.

She yawned, stretching her arms and legs, and then smiled. "Leaving? I'm really tired, so take the food capsule over there home with you. We can talk later."

"Do you want me to leave?" Vegeta asked quietly.

Bulma rose, pulling her blanket closer. "You don't owe me anything for last night. That's not how this works. We both had roles to play."

"Woman, I'm intelligent enough to know the difference between gratitude over having a machine built to train in versus what we did together - and what you did for me. I can be very selfish when I believe that I have been denied something, as you well know. In this case, just… let me say thank you, Bulma."

"So does that mean you'll thank me profusely each time I rebuild and replace bot shooters?"

"No way," Vegeta said with unapologetic arrogance. "You don't do the rebuilding anyway."

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Then put some real clothes on, and get the hell out out of my penthouse."

Vegeta touched her face, kissing her temples and forehead. Bulma felt too overwhelmed to respond as his warmth and honesty radiated through her. Their time together had been emotional for her as well, and he just supported her feelings. She nodded, clutching his fingers as she held back tears.

"I'm still an ass and will continue to be as I see fit," he proclaimed. "I may have to be more of one now publicly, so prepare yourself. This sentimental affection changes nothing."

"You have permission to continue pissing off everyone who knows me, Vegeta, though I could easily take your tech toys away." Her hands waved in the bedroom's direction. "Now shoo. You're making a nuisance of yourself, and I have work to finish. You also still have time to train."

"I suppose. Much of the day has passed."

"And just what does that mean?" she replied with confusion. "That's never stopped you before, and it's not that late in the day. Do you just want to eat here instead?"

After all of this, Vegeta was unready to leave. He should have been gone, really. Meanwhile, Bulma bounced across the room looking for items she needed. Her silk robe, decorated with grey and white patterns, flowed like cloudy bundles of cottonwood seeds.

Vegeta departed to finish dressing before "yes" could fall from his mouth. Bulma tried not to laugh after he disappeared. His knack for making simple situations more difficult rarely ceased to amuse. Oddly enough, Vegeta felt the same about her - or maybe it wasn't so odd.

"Where the hell is my design book?" Bulma moaned as if she didn't have at least fifteen similar ones stored all over the place. "Vegeta, can you check under the bed for my sketchbook?"

"I am not your servant!" he shouted.

"I didn't say you were, you ass! And you have some nerve saying that to me!"

She charged like a wild horse to the bedroom knowing that he would have the book. Vegeta pitched it over his shoulder. She was an expert catcher.

"That it?" he asked sarcastically. "Shall I make pencils for you?"

"It's taking you way too long to dress."

"Well, I would be if you hadn't hidden my fucking shoes, woman."

"I didn't hide your fucking shoes, Vegeta."

Bulma thought about her parents and how those two bickered. A mini panic attack ensued. Then she felt relieved. Vegeta was incapable of noticing that they also sounded like a married couple. What would a peripatetic former galactic fighter and prince with a bad attitude know about that anyway?

"You're not helping me either," he complained.

Bulma impatiently pushed him aside, grumbling to herself. "You should know where everything is by now."

How she could trip over his bare feet as he tried not to block her would be a story for the history books. Even he didn't think she would fall, but she did.

"Oww! Why didn't you catch me?!"

She didn't appear to be injured, Vegeta thought, so he helped her up. "I didn't think you were this graceless outside of the lab too."

After a short sigh, Bulma patted his chest, staring at his toes. She finally admitted to herself that she was in love with this man - very much. No ceremony or discussion was necessary, because he was also destined to leave her. People couldn't lose things that were never intended for them in the first place.

"What?" Vegeta asked, holding her wrist. "Why do you look like that?"

"I'm all right," she replied. "Your shoes are in that drawer rack cabinet. But before you go, I want to discuss some unfinished business."

Vegeta's arms folded over his chest. "Such as?"

Bulma untied her robe, allowing the elegant fabric to slide off both shoulders. "I suspect you probably would have decided not to do the bondage had I agreed to this earlier. But since you trusted me while you walked out on a ledge, I'll do the same."

Recalling her earlier comments, Vegeta followed as she unlocked her special cabinet. He wanted to close it but also didn't want to hurt her. "As you said, this isn't how this works," he insisted. "You owe me nothing."

"I know that." Bulma faced him, dropping her robe. "I owe it to myself. Just catch me, because it's going to be a wild ride."

She took a huge whiff of the spicy powder in her hand - with a wink and a smile.

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