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The fibers frame her chest in intentional symmetry, making her appear as a winged insect drawn in tension and breath. Taking a step back, I study her harnessed form with all the quiet satisfaction of an artist admiring his masterpiece. And for a moment, all I can do is stare. She’s a masterpiece, my masterpiece. Every line precise, every angle deliberate, every breath growing closer to a pant.

She stares back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she accommodates to her confinement. Her pupils dilate and her lips part as she pushes her chest out, moaning softly when the rope pulls against her skin. My eyes drop to her perfect tits, only accentuated by the rope that now frames them.

She whimpers softly, silently begging me to make my next move. I shake my head slowly as I stand there for several seconds longer, captivated by all that she is.

“Perfect,” I mumble, leaning down to grab another item from the bag.

She tracks my every move, watching intently as I stand with the object in my hand. Her eyes widen, and her lips part as she glances away from the suspension ring and upline rope in my hand, to my eyes, and back again.

I smirk, standing on the bed to draw them through the ring connected to the bed frame overhead. The uplines catch with a groan of tension as I pull them through, ensuring their strength, angle, and balance before suspending her.

Only when I’m certain that it’s safe, I lean down until I’m inches from her ear and whisper, “Trust me, love?” My voice low and borderline unrestrained. She arches her neck, her eyes locking onto mine above. I know her answer before it spills from her lips.

“Always,” she breathes out. “But if you don’t give me what I want soon, I’ll have to start acting like a brat and take it.”

“Patience.” I chuckle, connecting her harness to the upline above. “This will be worth it. I promise.”

I pull the rope, lifting her body from the mattress slowly. She relaxes, her form moving fluidly as gravity adjusts to her poised stillness, suspended above me. The ropes hold steady like I knew they would, and I take a careful step back to admire the view.

Her eyes are on mine, the desire within them stoked to a vibrant flame beneath my gaze. I take in the way her body curves within my craft, to the way every knot feels like an unspoken vow. Control for me was never about power, not with Lydia. With her, control was always about devotion. In this moment, it’s about the silent dialogue that exists between the tension of the ropes and the trust between two wayward souls.

“Are you gonna stand there staring all day, Mr. Thorne? Or are you going to come over here and fuck me like you promised?” she asks, breaking the vow of silence I ordered from the start.

If we’re being honest, I’m shocked she lasted this long. I arch a brow at her words, the corner of my mouth pulling into a devious grin. Her eyes drop to my mouth, and she laughs, clearly enjoying her little act of defiance.

“Do you enjoy being my captor, little siren?” I ask, toying with her game of disobedience, wondering how far she’ll go this time.

“Yes,” she exhales. “Yes, Mr. Thorne.”

I chuckle, the sound dark and depraved as I bend down to grab the last two things I need.

“Is that a—”

Her words are silenced as her eyes drop to the ball gag in my hand. Her throat bobs as she drags her gaze up to mine, nodding once to let me know that she accepts her punishment. Of course, it’s all an illusion. We both know the choice was always, and will always be, solely hers. Moving toward her, I place the ball gag in her mouth and wrap the collar around her head.

“Breathe through your nose, love,” I command, trailing my hands down her body and around the curve of her ass.

Thrusting her upward, I wrap her legs around my waist. Her breathing slows as she accommodates to the gag, and I watch as her nipples pebble against the fabric of her top.

“Good, little siren,” I praise. “Just like that.”

She breathes in and out through her nose, her eyes locked on mine. I line myself up to her entrance, running the head of my cock up and down her wet center. She moans, the sound a sweet symphony to my ears. The way she looks bound and gagged for me is doing all sorts of things to my brain.

Mine for the taking. Mine forever.

She rocks her hips forward, coating the length of my cock in her arousal. I grab her ass in my hands, digging my fingers into her flesh until she whimpers. My eyes roll straight to the back of my damn skull as I slowly push halfway in, stretching her pussy one inch at a time. I pull back out at the same deliberate pace, and then push back in. She moans, the sound purely visceral as she begs for more without uttering a single word.

“How bad do you want it, love?” I ask, knowing damn well she can’t answer me.

She tries, though, making unintelligible noises around the ball gag as spit trickles down the corners of her mouth. Goddamn, the way she looks right now is pushing me way too close, way too fast.

“Do you want all of me?” I ask, pushing in another inch. She nods, her eyes rimmed with tears as she struggles to breathe around the gag.

“Breathe, little siren,” I say, pressing in further. “I need you to breathe for me.”

She nods again, relaxing as I fill her inch by inch until I’m buried so fucking deep I see stars. She pants, rolling her hips around me the best that she can while bound in the butterfly harness. I thrust in and out of her, my pace steady as her moaning fills the air around us. Her unbound hands find my hair, fisting the strands and tugging so hard it stings.

“Fuck, yes,” I say, picking up my pace as the pain accelerates my pleasure.