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Her hands followed suit, stretched up on either side of her head, elevating her ribcage and making her stand on raised arches, so that she panted for breath, her breasts seeming to swell with each inhalation. Her heart pounded at the sight of herself, bound and displayed like this. Miguel’s burning gaze only drove her further into the land outside the boundaries of her mind.
When he locked the collar around her throat, she felt again like his captive, ready to do whatever he demanded.
He poured some oil into his palm and slicked back her hair, making it darker and sleek against her skull. Working slowly, he coated her body in the oil, until her skin gleamed golden brown in the subtle lighting. She moved under his hands, not speaking. Transformed into someone else. A pet who only felt and responded.
He hung heavy gold earrings with a Mayan look in her pierced ears and attached a golden chain to the collar, letting it dangle between her breasts, the loop handle brushing her navel. When he set the silver remote on the counter, she simply accepted the teasing vibrations of the bullet inside her, moving in an undulating dance.
Miguel pulled out a leather strap, thinner than the belt had been, and began lightly stropping her with it, letting it land here and there on her skin, following the primal rhythms over her movements. It didn’t hurt so much as remind her of her helplessness. The way the strap kissed her, wrapping here around her thigh, there flicking the side of her breast, conspired to add a level of static to her thoughts. White noise that blurred them away.
When Miguel stopped, set the strap on the counter and turned off the vibrator, she simply waited, beyond anticipation. He released her and took up her golden leash. She blinked at him, uncertain, and he kissed her, running a fond hand over her oiled hair.
“Cocktail time.” He smiled.
Walking with her and holding her leash, as naturally as he held her hand on the beach, Miguel led her out to the terrace. Torches had been set up around the pool and lit, their flames paling against the sunset. A table for two, also surrounded by blazing torches, sat at the rail, looking over the ocean where the sun lowered in slow magnificence. Miguel held her chair with perfect manners, dropping the leash so it once again dangled between her breasts.
He’d arranged for sangria with fruit and the gold foil umbrellas. A platter of appetizers tempted her. They sat and watched the sun sink into the ocean, while the torches blazed into brighter light.
When full night fell, Miguel took her leash and led her to a frame of poles that stood at one end of the torchlit pool. He attached her to it as he had before, displaying her like an exotic decoration. This time he strapped her harder. Time expanded. Or slowed. Became endless. He paused to strip off his shirt. She hung there, stretched so tightly she couldn’t move, while he moved around her barefooted in his linen slacks, sweat pouring down his chest.
He worked the strap on every surface, even sending teasing licks to her breasts and spread sex, grinning when he made her cry out. They didn’t speak. They’d moved beyond words. When he dropped to his knees before her in a worshipful pose, she accepted his mouth on her as yet another sensation, rippling through her like water, like the torch heat on her body, like the sting of the lash.
She knew better than to let herself come.
By the time he lowered the frame, so she lay spread-eagled on her back, the tiles warm on her behind, she’d moved beyond the hope of orgasm. She only wanted him to keep taking from her. He stood over her, a dark silhouette against the leaping flames, fitting a condom over his cock and taking her in, in all her conquered glory.
He crawled over her on all fours and delicately placed his teeth on her taut nipple. Knowing what would happen, she braced for it. Using only his teeth, he scraped the spiral clamp off her left nipple. She whimpered, thrashing her head. Then she held her breath when he sucked off the other. She screamed when the clit clamp released, then again when he scooped out the bullet and replaced it with his cock, convulsing helplessly around him, the immobility making it all that much more intense, the orgasm seizing her like a wild animal, its jaws rending her apart.
Miguel covered her mouth with his, riding her bucking body, sweat slicking their skin, until they both collapsed.
“I’m sorry.” She finally found the breath to say it. “I came without permission.”
He chuckled, a dry, totally sated sound. “This one time, I believe I shall let it go. But only because I, too, lost my head in the moment and forgot that rule.”
December 30
Sixth Day of Christmas
Six Geese a’Laying
Mi
guel, of course, had more meetings with the advent of Monday, so Tilda woke up with him. Not that she could help it, after the shrill ring of his phone jerked them from deep sleep. She felt a little guilty about whoever had to wash their oily sheets, but Miguel told her to leave it. He’d said it in a curt enough tone that she’d dropped the subject immediately.
Her ardent lover of the weekend had already withdrawn behind a moody scowl and he swore at someone on the phone about some faxed documents. Thinking it the better part of valor, she slipped on her black dancing dress and discreetly made her exit, amused to find herself doing the walk of shame in last night’s party clothes. When she passed another woman who looked her over knowingly, she returned the smile.
Oh yes. I got laid last night and it was beyond amazing.
She didn’t mind a bit of a reprieve. Being around Miguel and living his resort lifestyle was like drinking expensive vodka—an extraordinary treat, but not something you could do all the time. Her body ached in every joint, her clit and nipples painfully sensitive to the touch, and little red marks and bruises spotted her skin.
Already fatally distracted by the early calls, Miguel hadn’t mentioned arraying her for the day and she’d accepted the out gratefully. After a long, hot shower, she put on a simple sundress and went down to the hotel shops. Since her gold bikini had not reappeared and she wanted to keep as much of her all-over tan going as she could, she bought another bikini. Not as skimpy, but it was white, so she thought Miguel ought to like it. She lingered over the pretty belly-button jewelry, wishing hers was pierced. When she’d been strung up and oiled in Miguel’s bathroom, it had struck her that it would look nice.
She caught her reflection in the body-jewelry mirror and the sensual smile on her face took her by surprise. The memory of the night before had her looking like that gold-draped feral woman, all sex and oil and taunting captivity. She was almost sorry Miguel had unlocked and kept the collar and cuffs. Though they were hardly the kind of thing she could wear around the resort.
Stopping by the sport shop on her way to the beach, she picked up some snorkeling gear, so she could practice her newfound skills. She rented one of the beach cabanas and spent the day with the book she hadn’t touched since Thursday, snorkeling in the lovely shoals around the resort’s bay and sunbathing. If the cabana boy who brought her sparkling water with mint, and the occasional adult beverage, noticed the sex marks on her body, his polite demeanor never hinted at it.
Miguel didn’t put in an appearance all day, so around sunset she went back up to her suite, took another shower—both to get out the salt and because her hair still felt oily—and dressed in one of her light sundresses. She ordered a bottle of wine and snacks, ready to sit on her little balcony and enjoy the fading light.
When a knock sounded on her door, it wasn’t room service, but Miguel.
