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Drawing lengths of rope over each of her shoulders, he paused to create exaggerated knots against the pressure points between her neck and her shoulder blades. In addition to its erotic uses, the Japanese used Shibari as a form of massage, and Griffin had learned that the knots and tightness of the rope work itself could be used to stimulate pressure points on the body, similar to acupuncture or Shiatsu. With Kenna’s arm in mind, he’d read up on what he might do to alleviate any lingering pain she still had, because her words hadn’t stopped haunting him.
I need to feel good again.
With her arms and front fully trussed, Griffin paused. “How does this feel, Kenna?”
“Green, Master,” she said, her voice almost sleepy in quality. Which made his cock fucking ache. Because it meant she was already becoming seduced by the grip of his bondage. And did she even realized she’d not said his name? Because a submissive only called a Dominant Master by itself when she’d been collared by him. And hearing her say that when she was in this unguarded state sent hope raging through him, demanding that he tell her, claim her, never let her go again.
But he needed more of that unguardedness when she was fully in her mind, first. Luckily, doing Shibari had taught him to be a very patient man. Though the soul-deep need to reclaim Kenna once and for all was testing that patience. Hard.
Next, he walked behind her and took a deep breath, because her back was going to be the real masterpiece. Giving himself over to the almost meditative movements of binding her, Griffin created an intricate web of diamond-shaped knots, making sure to place as many of those knots as he could against muscles or pressure points that would heighten her pleasure.
Because he wanted her rope drunk before this night was through.
Just because he was patient didn’t mean he planned to play fair. And their year together had taught Griffin what Kenna liked. And needed.
Kneeling in front of her, he continued the diamonds down the outsides of her thighs to where he finally created a strong, detailed series of knots that would support a spreader bar connected to her ankles. “Wider,” he said, tapping at the inside of her leg.
Griffin had first learned about Shibari nine years ago, before Blasphemy had even opened. After he’d graduated with his MBA, he’d landed in the corporate offices of a multinational retailer of men’s clothing and shoes, and the job had involved occasional foreign travel for project and sales meetings and launch events. Even as a younger man, Griffin had known about his need for sexual dominance, but it was during his stays in some of those foreign cities—Paris, London, and Tokyo, to name a few—that he’d visited his first BDSM clubs and learned about Shibari.
Having spent summers helping out in his grandfather’s furniture business, he’d always loved making and building things with his hands, so the artistic rope work of Shibari spoke to something deep inside him. And the more experience he acquired doing it, the more he became immersed in the lifestyle, and the more he realized that corporate America wasn’t where he was meant to be. He became a partner in his grandfather’s business shortly before the man died, and that same year, Griffin had met Master Hale and a number of the other Doms who became partners in the venture that was Blasphemy.
Then he’d met Kenna. And he’d been too young, immature, and arrogant to realize that he’d found his forever.
By the time Griffin was done tying the knots on her ankles, adrenaline was flooding through him, gathering force and picking up steam. The rigor, tightness, and demanding positions of Shibari alone could put a submissive into subspace, but it could also give the Rigger an adrenaline rush of his own. Both sides could experience a euphoric response. And he was definitely feeling that just then.
From the position on his knees, he peered up at Kenna’s face and knew immediately—so was she. Her eyelids appeared heavy and her muscles relaxed, almost like she was in a trance-like state. She was swaying just the littlest bit, which meant she was starting to lose touch with the physical reality around her.
All of which was fucking perfect.
He rose and grasped her cheeks. And then he kissed her. Because he couldn’t not kiss her. He needed to taste her beauty and her submission right from her lips. And the moan she unleashed, like his kiss had plugged her back into her body, was so desperate that his cock jerked. “Tell me how bad you want it,” he rasped.
