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He stared at them. He wasn't meeting her eyes. Shame or something else? "What if I tell you I'm done? Safe word and all that, let me the fuck out of here."
"I'd say you're a chickenshit. In addition to being a poor date. Choking me, then taking off."
His jaw set. "This isn't a fucking joke. I could have hurt you. I would have hurt you." His fists clenched anew. She wondered if he had permanent crescent scars on his palms from how often he fought himself with that physical tell. "I don't want to hurt you."
"So don't." She hardened her heart against the anguish she heard behind the harsh words and pointed to the manacles. "Trust me to make sure you don't get a second chance. You feel like shit right now about what you did, right?"
He nodded, wariness in the gesture. "So do I," she said bluntly. "You scared me, and I don't like that feeling. I won't let you make me afraid of you, Marius. You go now, I think about how you scared me and the way things could have turned out, until I paralyze myself with what ifs. For your part, you'll do something stupid, like go to a fight to punish yourself, and end up in a coma or dead. I'm not going to permit you to do that."
"How're you going to stop me?"
She blinked. "Those chains are looped over a load bearing beam. I reel them back in, and you'll only have as much slack as I want to give you. I could turn out the lights and leave you here for a week with a couple jugs of water. I'd throw food in once a day."
She met his furious, confused gray eyes. "If I think it will save your life, I'll do it and won't think twice. Or, you could put on the goddamned manacles."
He stared at her. Slowly, almost like an old man, he turned toward the restraints.
"Before you put them on, use this." She moved to the far wall, making sure her stride was confident. Drawing back a curtain, she revealed a small bathroom with a pedestal sink and commode. "I won't have you getting an infection from the sound. After you're done, I expect you to put on the ankle cuffs, then put your arms behind your back and roll onto your stomach. Keep the chains untangled."
She turned her back on him to move to a cabinet and peruse additional supplies she intended to use. She gave him visual privacy, but was pleased when she heard him use the sink to wash his hands afterward, the chains clinking against the ceramic bowl. As she heard him move back toward the center of the floor, she paid out more slack on the chains so he could lower himself to a seated position. She moved to the back wall to lean against it and watch him with a dispassionate expression. It also prudently kept her out of range.
He locked the cuffs on his ankles. His expression was stone, eyes cold, but he did it, then rolled on his stomach, adjusting his arms so his knuckles rested against the small of his back. The chains to the wrist cuffs swayed above him.
Picking up a baton, she telescoped it with a snap, so he'd know she was prepared to use it if he tried anything. She locked the ankle cuffs to one another with a combination clip, and did the same to his wrists. Then she pulled up his ankles and latched them to the wrist cuffs
so he was in a hog tie. She used two rolled-up hand towels between his ankles and knees to cushion the joints.
As she did that, she was squatting next to him. Since she was only wearing his shirt, she noted his gaze coursing over her breasts, full and firm beneath the open garment, and then down to her pussy. The folds were soft and still damp, thanks to his beautiful mouth. After she finished securing him, she ran her fingertips down over her labia and dipped between, collecting the residual moisture and tasting herself. He swallowed, his body tensing in an appealing way, muscles hardening. From the shift of his hips, she expected his erection was reviving again. Extremes of emotion tended to arouse a male, and she fully expected the shaft would stay stiff and jutting until he calmed down. She could use the former to help the latter.
She'd brought one other item with her, and she picked it up now, fitting it over his head with a short, firm tug. A head mask, followed by a scold harness that she buckled over his skull, fitting the metal piece in his mouth that held down his tongue and was kept in place by the straps around the jaw and back of the neck.
The head mask was of a thin fabric that would allow him to see through it, though more shapes than details. Which meant he could see her silhouette. Standing, she used her foot to shove him to his side and pressed her sole against it, letting him feel her weight, the psychological advantage of her standing over him. Dominant, in control.
"Look at that naughty cock, getting all messy at the tip. It may fuck up your radar, but a woman taking complete control gets you off like nothing else. The problem is, every time you find joy and quiet in it, you fuck it up, Marius. It's a pattern."
Her tone went from sensual, biting tease to stern and uncompromising. "You've always been a pain in the ass and arrogant motherfucker, but now you're just looking to burn your whole life down, aren't you?"
He said something against the metal piece that couldn't be understood and she was sure hurt, because the metal had barbs that dug into tender flesh if the wearer didn't keep his mouth still.
"You don't get to talk anymore tonight, so you might as well stop trying." She came back down to his level, stretching out on her hip in front of him. Her brief hesitation at getting closer to him, even with him bound where he couldn't hurt her, pissed her off. So she slid right up against him, caressing his stretched lips and moving her touch down to his chin and throat. Then over his chest and nipples, pinching and scraping hard so he quivered.
"Looks like I have you at my mercy for the rest of the night." She trapped his cock between her bare thighs. As anticipated, the organ was a hot, thick bar of steel beneath her flexing muscles. It wasn't just because of the violence of the past few moments. As she'd known, true to his sub nature, he responded to her taking the upper hand, binding him, rendering him helpless. He fought the things that were so good for him, poor boy.
His body was vibrating with a self-imposed stillness, laden with all the emotional energy churning inside him.
"You wanted to fuck me?" Reaching down, she gripped his balls, digging her nails into their heavy weight and rough texture so he sucked in a breath and pushed against her touch.
"You don't fuck me. I fuck you. When and how I say I will. Try that intimidation shit with me ever again, there won't be enough of your body left to find."
She thought of his broken words about wanting to be faceless. There was a risk in going down a path she wasn't sure she fully understood yet, but hell, she'd already chosen territory tonight most Mistresses wouldn't have. "You're my creation, my slave. Mine. You wear a face for the whole world, but not for me. You get to take it off here and be faceless. You're nothing here. Only mine."
He made a noise, a sound that was desolation, relief and need at once. She gripped the back of his neck, this time in a firm, caressing hand. "Tyler gave you a chance to come back. Through me. He wouldn't have done that if he thought you were a lost cause."
He shook his head, as if to deny it, but she dug her nails in deeper. He strangled on a sound caught between rage and pain. He could handle the latter. She'd seen him take much worse.
"You fucked up at the club with Siren on purpose. What happened just now was because you lost control and you had no idea how to deal with it. There may be fucking demons hiding deep inside you, Marius. But you don't have to be one. We're not done. We're just beginning."
She let him go to stroke his testicles and caress his cock, rubbing her pussy over it. He made another noise, this one more of a growl. He was straining against her. She could detect the flick of his lashes against the fabric of the mask.
