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“I’m going to restrain you in a few different ways,” he told her, severely. “And sometimes the idea of bondage is quite different from the reality. That makes it a good time to think about your safewords. Tell me what they are.”
She looked as if she might come out of her skin.
“Um. Green if everything is good. Yellow if I need a pause. Red to stop.” Her eyes widened when his brow rose. “Sir.”
“Very good.”
He went to her neck first, buckling a play collar around it, a sturdy, stiff leather to help give her the sensation of his hand there. Sure enough, she responded immediately. He felt her go distinctly pliant, and her eyes took on that glassy sheen he wanted.
“Okay?” he asked, moving his hand as he studied her face, down the sweet length of her spine to the intriguing curve of her ass.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
And while she was concentrating on having a binding around her neck, he picked up a pair of cuffs and moved behind her, letting his hands travel down the length of her arms before securing her wrists in the small of her back.
“Stand straight, please,” he told her, with just enough edge to make her jolt before she obeyed.
He pulled her elbows toward each other until she arched her back. “This is how I want you to stand. I like the curve here.” He smoothed his palm along it. “I like that it raises your breasts and puts all of your beautiful body on display for my pleasure.”
Conrad gathered her hair in one hand, and began to twist it into a smooth, glossy rope. Then he pulled back when it was good and tight so she tipped backward, her head resting against his shoulder. Then he held her there before him.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered her.
He liked the image himself. Rory was bound with a thick black collar around her neck. She wore nothing else but the flush on her skin and lovely goose bumps to mark the way. He watched her, pleased at the contrast they made in the mirror. He was all in black, his sternest look on his face, and she was melting, trembling, lost in that exquisite distress that he adored.
She was such a little thing, particularly in her bare feet, slender and curvy at once. He liked how lush her hips were and the way they flared. And when he trailed a hand down her side, where he could see that tattoo if he squinted, he cupped her breast and the little sigh she let out arrowed straight through him. Heating him up almost to the boiling point.
Soon,he promised himself.
“Now I’m going to make it interesting,” he said. “Because I think you like a little pain with your pleasure. But then, whether you do or don’t, I do. You want to please me, don’t you, Rory?”
He watched her in the mirror. And the way her eyes were on him, only him, even as her body trembled.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He pulled out the clamps he’d put in his pocket, and held them so she could see them. “These are vicious. And effective. You’ll see what I mean.”
Conrad let her hair fall, then moved around in front of her. Then he enjoyed himself. He played with her breasts, watching the expression on her face change as she felt the way the cuffs and the collar restrained her. He grabbed a handful of her ass, gripping her hard so she went up on her toes. And he slid a demanding finger through her folds, to confirm that she was molten hot and ready, to play with that clit and his favorite piercing, and to watch her eyes go dark.
But then he returned to her breasts, holding up each one in turn, and playing with her nipples. Stimulating them, roughly, to see what she would do.
What she did was dance a bit into his touch, and then let out a shaky sort of moan when he bent his head and pulled one nipple deep into his mouth. And sucked.
He felt her react. He felt a kind of lightning shoot through her, and while she was still making a little noise, he fixed the clamp to her nipple.
Rory didn’t disappoint him. She howled and bucked, but she was cuffed and he had a hold of her. While she was protesting, he bent his head, sucked her other nipple deep and then clamped it the same.
He waited for her to safeword out, but she didn’t.
Conrad was unduly proud.
Then he stood back and watched her deal with it. Her pulse beat in her throat. Her breath was harsh, wild, and she looked shocked. He suspected her head was swimming, every breath a jagged reminder of her submission.
“Breathe,” he advised her, with certainty. “The more you hold your breath, the worse it is.”
“I thought you’d never experienced it,” she snapped at him, furiously.
All he did was stare at her, his gaze dark, one brow raised.
