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“Excellent.” Leaving the rope hanging over her shoulders, he turned to the tray and grabbed a hair clip. With gentle fingers, showing he’d done this before, he fixed her hair to the top of her head. “The arrangement of the ropes and knots emphasizes things like sensuality, vulnerability, and strength.”
Her eyes fluttered closed at the rope sliding over her skin as if it were Kyler’s kiss. Her heartbeat slowed with each move he made, as though his fingers were gliding over her skin. His strong touch, declaring his experience, made her wet and achy.
“I’ve studied this form of art since joining the lifestyle. It’s my gift, you could say. My talent.” He trailed the rope down the center of her chest, then ran it between her thighs. The soft rope pressed into her inner thigh before he dragged it up the side of her buttock.
He repeated the same move on the other side, then he said softly, “All right, take a seat on the bench and quiet your mind. Enjoy the moment.”
After Ella straddled the horse, he began making knots, moving the rope this way and that way over her body. She opened her eyes, finding him focused on the rope, as if she were his sculpture, his piece of art.
She realized that’s what BDSM was to him. Past the sexual part to the lifestyle, the tender moment when he lost himself in something he was passionate about amazed her. The way he touched her, how he moved the ropes and tied the knots along her body, it all dropped her into a hazy state. Her muscles loosened as the noises from the club drifted away.
Now she understood the appeal of the lifestyle—the meaning behind it made sense. It wasn’t only rough flogging or kinky sex—it was the exchange of a Dom beautifying his submissive for others to see. Displaying her in the most exquisite way he could. Ella realized it was Kyler using his talents to attempt to make her the most stunning woman in the room.
His beauty to show off in pride.
It was a quiet and sensual exchange of his touch on her body.
Maybe she hadn’t fully understood the meaning of a D/s relationship before, but now she believed it wasn’t all about the sex. The experience was a sensual dance between a man and a woman. The ropes were an extension of Kyler—his way of showing her she was worthy of such devotion by a Dom.
In his care, she tumbled into a sensation so peaceful she never wanted to leave. Her thoughts quieted. Her body softened under the rope. Her heart opened, dropping all barriers between them.
Only he remained.
A quarter of an hour later, Kyler knotted the rope on the side of Ella’s hip. The soft instrumental music drifted through the club as he gazed over the intricate bondage. For the most part, she was covered, likely feeling as if she wore a full-piece bathing suit with parts of skin showing.
He regarded his work with a smile. Shibari looked good on any woman, but because it was Ella, it looked exquisite. The ropes fit snug against her, winding across her body and detailing her curves. The flush of her cheeks indicated the knots he’d placed on pressure points to stimulate her were working.
Though, her reaction to the shibari was unexpected. Before she sat on the bench, he’d brushed over her hot folds, and silky arousal touched his skin. Not all submissives offered such a heady reaction under his ropes. And he felt it, too, entranced by the beauty of the moment.
She was his canvas.
The rope his tool to decorate her.
Into a minute of their scene, she had shut her eyes, and she had yet to open them. Even when he helped her stand from the bench, she stayed right there in the present.
Quiet.
Christ, she’s going to be the death of you, Morgan.
Tension rode his shoulders as he yearned to send her into that blissful state of subspace, but that craving wouldn’t be fed tonight. Pain laced with pleasure dropped a submissive into that foggy trance, and he couldn’t push Ella too fast … too soon. Until she wholeheartedly trusted him and invested in him enough to share her hurt, instead of ignoring what happened, he couldn’t take his flogger to her or use pain to heighten her pleasure.
Shoving the thoughts and his cravings away, he gave her arm a pinch. “I need you focused now, Ella.” Her eyes slowly drifted open, her dark, sensual gaze entrancing him. He swallowed against the surge of blood rushing to his cock. With a clenched jaw, he gestured to the mirror on the wall behind them. “Take a look.”
She turned and gasped as she stared at her reflection. Giving herself a once-over, she ran her hands over the rope and shivered. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is that.” He took her hand, leading her toward the silk sheets hanging from the ceiling. “Though, I’d say what’s in the ropes is more so.”
She gave a sweet smile. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, what?”
“Thank you, sir.”
>
He nodded, dropping her hand. “That’s right, Ella. I enjoyed how you were quiet during the shibari, but now I want you vocal. How you’ve addressed me is perfectly fine.” Then he turned his attention to the long silk.
Years back, he’d seen an aerial ballet at Cirque du Soleil. The show had given him ideas, an idea that happened to be a perfect scene for Ella. Some thought to experience BDSM there needed to be pain, an intense flogging or such, but that was not the truth.
