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“Care to look around?”
He’s nervous, somehow. Not wanting to teach me things or direct my opinion with his own explanations, but hoping to see my genuine thoughts.
I peer back through the machines. Some are easy enough to understand, while others are such peculiar shapes I can’t even begin to imagine how they’re used.
Behind the double-sided table, thick hooks hold a spun length of clean red rope. It’s not in any particular design, not laid out a certain way, and it draws my imagination.
I run my fingertips over the fabric, surprised at the softness. Glancing back at Ghost, I wrap my hand around the knot in the center. “What, um…” I bite my lip, blushing. “How would this work, Sir?”
He meets me beside it, his expression stoic and calm, though his neck is as red as the rope. “Shibari display,” he says carefully, reaching under my hand to undo the knot. “It’s an ancient Japanese bondage technique. Almost all Western BDSM stems from it.”
My brain short circuits atbondage.I squeeze my thighs together.
“You don’t say.” I cough.
“It was my first true love of the arts,” he explains, almost wistful. “I’d like to share it with you, one day. When we have more time.”
I tilt my head at him, combing my fingers through the ropes again. “For…?”
He smirks at my flush, knowing what I’m wanting from him, though I didn’t have to say it. I shiver in appreciation, my frayed nerves settling. I really love that.
I love him.
“Have you ever been tied before?”
I shake my head no.
He steps closer. “May I?”
My knees nearly buckle, but I nod, placing my wrists together in front of me. He whips the rope around them, pinching them together. “That doesn’t feel very good, does it?”
I squirm experimentally, my skin rubbing together uncomfortably, the rope a bit too thin and digging into my tendons. “No, sir.”
He nods, letting the rope slip off, and twisting it around his hands. “Elbows together.”
I snap them in front of my chest, clenching my fists to hide how I’m shaking. He’s gonna have to use that hook on me if he expects me to keep standing while he does this.
“Shibari is an act in and of itself,” he explains calmly, slipping back into that brilliant, controlled man who makes me feel safe down in my bones. “There are plenty of different approaches, and not all of them are sexual. Some venture closer to Kinbaku, which focuses more on…emotions, and release.”
He twists the rope around my wrists with precision, like he’s done it a million times over. He doubles them, now, and loops a bight between my hands, giving a quick tug to secure the knot. For a moment, I think the rope was twisted by accident, but it turns out the loop is a design, putting the slightest pressure near the heel of my hand.
“Better?” He slips two fingers under the cuff, as if double checking his work.
“This is incredible,” I mumble, turning my elbows to get a better look at his work. I’ve never given bondage much thought, though I didn’t think it could be so beautiful and detailed.
His eyes snap to my face, his entire body tensing. “Wh-What?”
“I mean, yes. Yes, sir, that’s much more comfortable.” I try to tug my wrists apart, though these knots won’t give an inch. But unlike his haphazard example, this technique doesn’t cut into my veins, or make my fingers ache. “Just, how you did that—in like, no time at all, you know? That was so amazing, Ghost.”
A short breath stutters out of him, and he quickly undoes the top button of his dress shirt. I stop fiddling with the ropes to watch him quickly come undone, an overwhelmed, erotic blush flooding his face and neck.
Oooh. Oh, I like that a lot.
“You’re just so knowledgeable, and sexy, and...” I let my bound hands settle in front of me, biting my lip as I toe the line. “...talented.”
His growl comes all the way from his toes, hands cupping my neck as he claims my mouth in a fierce kiss.
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