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“You wanted to be controlled for a little while.”
“
Yeah,” she says. “That’s what I wanted.”
“And how did you come up with this idea of being controlled?” I ask her. I release Fiona’s hair and begin touching her belly and hips. I stroke her skin softly with my fingers.
“My friend,” she tells me. “My friend slept with someone, someone from another planet, and he did things to her. I wanted to try those things, too.”
“We’re going to try a lot tonight, baby. It might scare you.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I won’t be scared. I’m not afraid of you, Quinn.”
“If I do my job right, you’re going to be very scared of me by the time we’re through, Fiona.”
It’s a promise.
It’s a pledge.
It’s an explanation.
She shudders, and I know it’s time to get started.
Chapter 15
Fiona
I don’t know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into, but it’s quite nice, and after this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to “normal.”
“Normal” is overrated, I think.
“Normal” is stupid.
What I have with Quinn, right now? This is incredible. It’s been a long time since I felt like submitting to a man. It’s been a long time since I felt brave enough to ask for what I want, for what I need. I’m not even sure how Quinn seems to know, unless this is a need for him just as much as it is for me.
Maybe he needs to control just as much as I need to be controlled.
Maybe he needs to experiment just as much as I do.
Or maybe he just hasn’t been laid in a long time and he’ll do anything if it means getting to fuck me.
I don’t know.
All I know is that I’ve been dripping wet for what feels like hours. My thighs are soaked with my arousal and I know that when Quinn touches me, he’s going to feel exactly how wet I am.
“Put your hands up,” Quinn says, and I raise my arms over my head. My breasts bounce for a moment, and he watches me, then smiles. “You have beautiful breasts, Fiona,” he says.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and he nods. He presses a button on the wall, then, and I hear a little noise from the ceiling. I look up and see a hook being lowered. Before I realize what’s happening, he hangs a length of rope from the hook and ties it around my wrists.
And then I’m tied up.
“Are your hands okay?” He asks me tenderly, checking to make sure my bandages are still in place.
“They’re fine,” I whisper, nodding, and then he steps away from me.
My feet are still resting on the floor, but my arms stretch up and over my head, and suddenly, I feel very vulnerable. I almost feel as vulnerable as I did at the auction, but this time it’s different. This time, I’m not worried I’m going to be raped or murdered. This time, I’m worried I’m going to be pushed to the edge of what I can take.
This time, I’m worried I’m going to love what he does to me.
