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"This is just the start, you know." He holds my gaze in the mirror. "It’s only going to get rougher from here on."
"And you’re trying to scare me, why?"
"So you know what you’re getting into."
"Are you saying you’re giving me a way out?"
He raises a shoulder. "I’m offering you a chance to let go of your inhibitions."
"And that helps me, how?"
"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror when you have stripped back the mask you wear to the world and liked what you saw?"
"Is that what this is?" I scowl back at his reflection. "Me ... unmasked?"
"It’s you, as I see you."
"Which is how, exactly? As your, how do you say, your submissive?"
"As mine."
A thrill runs through my body.
"Wh-what does that mean?"
"Mine to do with as I want. Mine to hold. Mine to play with. Mine to push your limits."
"Ah…" I tilt my head. "Now I get it."
"You do?"
I nod. "I am how you strip back the mask you wear to the world." I turn to face him. "You use my body as the canvas through which you can express your deepest desires. The ones you can’t even admit to yourself. You use my emotions to articulate what you are feeling, my tears to give voice to your expression, my—"
"Your pain to revel in what I cannot ever tell anyone." His lips twist.
"And what is that, Christian? What is it you cannot tell anyone else but which drives you to reach for extremes to feel something?"
His gaze widens for an instant, then all expression fades from his face. That mask I referred to before? It’s back in full force. If he seemed inscrutable before, now he seems unreachable.
He steps back from me, and the cold air instantly rushes in to occupy his space. "Stay," he commands as he spins around and stalks out of the room, only to return with a pair of scissors.
"What are you—?"
He cuts through the ribbon that ties my wrists together, then snips off the yarn that runs from the wool around my breast to my pussy. The pressure on my labia ceases, and already, I miss it. He cuts through the knots he’s woven under my cleavage, then up the side of the corset he’s created out of the wool. The entire composition falls apart, and he snatches up the pieces as I stand in front of him absolutely naked.
But does he look at me again? Nope. He walks toward the doorway. "You can use the bed. I’ll be sleeping on the couch."
31
Christian
Maledizione! It’s goddamn difficult to walk when you are sporting a hard-on, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
With every step I take, my cock stabs into the crotch of my pants. With every step I take, the remnants of her scent cling to my skin and tease my senses. With every step I take, the sensations of how her gorgeous curves felt against my chest when I held her seem to be imprinted into my skin. The way she looked, all bound up with the wool, all knotted up into the beauty of my creation—the image is seared into my brain.
I’ve bound others… But no one… No other woman responded this openly, this incredibly generously. She shared all of herself with me in the little time we spent together; she didn’t hide any part of herself. She was giving and trusting… Despite her hesitation to be part of what I had in mind for her, she gave herself over to me, and that’s not something I expected.
Hell, I also didn’t realize that it would affect me so much. Nor did I expect her to see past my words or my need to tie her up. I have to have her naked and knotted and begging to come, I have this constant need to withhold from her and see her wanting and open and needy. I need to come all over her and mark her. Fuck! I curl my fingers into fists at my sides as I stare into the fire in the living room.
