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“Tonight we’re going to play,” he informs me.
“I want to play.”
His short laugh is nearly condescending. “I’m aware you do, my little rulebreaker.”
“I’ll show you everything I’ve brought first.” He unzips the bag. “You can veto anything you aren’t interested in, and I’ll make a note of it.” He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve tiptoed up behind him to get a better look.
His gaze is assessing, so much so that I take a hesitant step backward.
“Where did I leave you?” he questions in a murmur, gentle, yet cautioning.
Slowly I lower myself back down, one knee at a time. His piercing gaze ignites something between us. “That’s my good girl,” he comments with a smirk. Turning his attention back to the unzipped duffle bag he tells me, “I’m looking forward to playing with you tonight.”
The first item he hands me is a soft leather blindfold in deep burgundy. It’s simple with matching silk ties, but feels luxurious. It’s certainly not cheap. His compliment brings a warmth to my chest when he says, “The color suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Taking it back from me, he sets it gently on the corner of the bed. It’s unmade and it’s the first time I’ve even considered making the bed since I’ve been home. Before my thoughts are allowed to wander, he tells me, “You respond well to praise. It’s kept me from degrading you.” I don’t miss how he gauges my reaction.
“Degradation, like calling me a whore, spitting, and all that?” I question, not sure how it makes me feel anymore. It’s been a long time since before James.
“What do you think of all of that?”
I take a moment to consider it. Even in my wildest days, it was mild and I was too intoxicated or well past any limit where I would object. Every touch heightened the high. It was different then.
I’ve been called a lot of things, like “little slut” and “my whore.” I remember a time when I loved degradation, it was a part of the scene. It’s a kink that I never imagined would leave me. If a man used it outside of the bedroom, it was obviously different. But within the confines of four walls, it’s different because I know I’m going to get mine and when it’s all said and done, they’d kiss me and tell me what a good girl I was. That was so long ago, though. A lifetime ago. “At one point I enjoyed it.”
“But now?”
“I really just want to please you.”
A huff of humor leaves Zander and he says, “Well that makes two of us.” He doesn’t waste any time pulling out the second item.
“Matching tape.”
“Tape?” The hitch in my voice gives away my hesitancy as Zander holds out a roll of shiny tape in the same deep burgundy shade as the blindfold.
“It only sticks to itself,” he explains, pulling the end free and holding it out for me to feel.
“It’s like PVC tape?”
He nods in response to my question.
“Any objections?” he asks and his tone is neutral. “I know you want to please me, but you should know it would piss me off if you didn’t object if you wanted to.”
Shock at his darkened tone drops my bottom lip slightly. My eyes widen and he stares down at me with a seriousness. Kneeling in front of me, he drops the roll into my hand, lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, his warm breath trailing down the curve of my neck, “I want to feel you come on my dick as many times as you possibly can before you safe word.” My breathing quickens as he leans back, brushing the hair from my face with a casualness that downplays the perversion he just spoke. “It’ll make it harder for me if you lie right now.”
“I was nervous because it’s tape, but it won’t stick to me, like duct tape would.”
“Not at all.”
Gripping the tape tighter, I ask him, “How do you plan to use it?”
“I’ll bind your legs, so they’re bent and you’re easier to position however I want, and your hands and arms … I haven’t decided yet.” His words drift off and his eyes roam down my body before he looks back up at me. “Or maybe some other binding. Do you have a preference?”
“No.”
“Then however the hell I want. I may tie you to the bed frame. Strap you down so you can’t move an inch while I fuck you …” Leaving me with the vision of my wrists being cuffed to the bedposts with this tape, Z turns his back to me, fishing for something in the duffle before pulling out a pair of small silver safety scissors.
Nodding, I hand him back the heavy roll, his fingers brushing against mine and eliciting a rush of adrenaline and heat. “Then no objections.”
