Page 19 of Suite 7

“Eyes closed.”

I shut them.

“The only words I need to hear from you are your safewords. Nothing else.”

A pause. The air shifts. “Now. I’m going to blindfold you. And you’re going to stop managing this. Understand?”

I’m not managing anything.

“Vera?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, through my teeth.

He ties the blindfold back into place and I feel him move away, footsteps crossing the room, a drawer opening. He returns and his hands find the zipper at my back.

“Lift your arms.”

He removes the dress in one clean movement. Cool air hits my skin everywhere except the black strapless lace. Without sight to orient me, the room opens up, unknowable, and my brain immediately starts compensating: tracking his footsteps, reading his breathing, calculating where he is in the room.

There. Behind me. About two feet.

Something soft wraps around my wrists. Silk — cool and smooth. He binds them with practiced efficiency, each wrap distinct, the knot landing firm and considered against the inside of my wrist.

“Too tight?”

“No, Sir.” And then, because I can’t stop myself: “You’ve done this before?”

“Yes.”

“How many —”

“Vera.” The warning is quiet. Absolute. “This is not conversation. This is a scene. You don’t get to interview me while I have you bound.”

Heat floods my face. Because he’s right. He lifts my arms and secures the silk above me. The restraint pulls taut. I’m kneeling with my arms extended overhead and the position cracks my strategy open: I can’t move, can’t track him, can’t prepare. Just the sound of his breathing, and mine.

“Color?”

“Green. Though I’d note that the suspension point could be —“

“Could be what?”

“It could—” I stop.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Finish the sentence.”

“I just — the angle is —”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“Is it painful?”

“No.”

“Then it’s exactly where it should be.” He lets that land. “I’ve been doing this for years, Vera. I’ve thought about the angle. I’ve thought about all of it.” His voice settles into something certain. “Your job isn’t to assess my rigging. Your job is to feel it.”

I say nothing.