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“There,” Silla announces as she steps back to reveal her artwork. Drake’s forearms are bound behind his back, ropes looping around his large biceps, the cord pressing into his flesh, and I’ll be honest, it looks painful. But with the way he’sstillflirting with Silla, I hope it hurts.
“Looks great,” Isabel replies with forced enthusiasm.
Without warning, she quickly unties everything she’s done, and then she looks at me. “Now that you’ve seen me do it, I want you to try again. Rope bondage is all about the connection between you and your submissive. Zone out together. He’s giving you his trust, and that’s a gift. So I want you to try this again, but this time…focus on the man you’re touching. Not the rope.”
“Umm…” I stammer. “We’re just friends.”
She gives me an unimpressed expression. “Good. Then this should be easy. I assume he already trusts you.”
Isabel clears her throat, and I brush off the nerves, squaring my shoulders and taking the rope from Silla.
“Don’t wrap him too tight. A little loss of circulation is expected, but if it gets too uncomfortable, talk to your rigger. And don’t stay in the bind for more than twenty minutes or you risk nerve damage. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Drake replies with a wink.
“When you’re done…I’ll be happy to give you a tour,” she says, smiling directly at him. My molars grind as I watch her gaze up into his eyes.
“That would be great!” Isabel chimes in, interrupting their little starry-eyed connection. Silla fakes a smile in my wife’s direction, before excusing herself to help the other tables.
Then, I heave a sigh as I attempt the harness again, trying to shut off every voice in my head. As the rope drapes over Drake’s shoulders, I chance a look in his direction, our eyes meeting in a heated connection. With a cool expression, I pull the cord a little tighter, and he lets out a nearly silent grunt, still staring at me.
Then with another tug and his chest surrounded by black knots, the air leaves his lungs in a satisfied exhalation. He submits to the binding with a lazy sublime look on his face.
When I’ve finished, Drake appears almost sleepy, and I notice my binds are tighter than Silla’s. I step back and stand next to Isabel as we assess my work.
“It looks so good,” she mutters quietly.
It does. It looks so fucking good.
“Someone gonna untie me?” Drake asks after a moment, and I shake myself out of the hypnosis I’m suddenly under. What the fuck has gotten into me?
“I should leave you like that,” I grumble before walking away. I don’t have the patience to try and keep calm right now, and as badly as I want to tell him what a jerk he is for flirting with Silla right in front of us, I have no place telling Drake what to do. I know that, and yet…I want to. I want to dominate him, and that’s a new feeling I’m not quite sure what to do with at this point.
With a laugh, he calls after me. “What did I do?” But I don’t answer. I leave Isabel to untie him while I head to the bar for a drink.
Rule #15: Strangers are great people to confide in.
Drake
I wishHunter would just say what’s on his mind. He’s always been like this, sulking and brooding in silence until he just walks away, without ever really expressing himself. It makes me want to push his buttons, which is exactly what I’m doing now. I know what’s got him so pissed off, but if he’s not going to talk about it like an adult, then I’m going to make him suffer for it.
“I should go check on him,” Isabel says after we’ve pulled off all of my ropes and piled them on the table. I pull up my pants, but leave my shirt off for a moment. My skin is still feeling a little sensitive from the rope, and I’m fighting the urge to itch.
“I’ll meet you over there,” I reply. She sends me a tense smile before disappearing into the next room, where the bar is. This club is pretty similar to Salacious. There’s a main room, lots of smaller rooms, and a large one at the end, where they must hold their workshops and shows. It’s making me brainstorm ways we can add a space like this to our club.
I turned the main room into a giant voyeur hallway, so I could easily manage this.
“Oh, look at your rope marks. They’re beautiful.” Soft hands graze my arms and I turn to find Silla inspecting my skin like it’s a piece of art.
“Thanks?” I say with a question.
“Not all skin marks the same from the ropes, but yours turned out perfect. Let me show you.” She pulls out her phone and aims it at my back. When the flash goes off, she lets out a disgruntled noise. “The lighting in here is terrible. Here, come with me. I’ll take you to a room with better lighting, so you can see it.”
“My friends—"
“It’ll just take a second. I need to get a good picture before they fade.”
Letting out a sigh, I take one last glance toward the door before following her. My fingers run over the divots in my arms, where the rope was squeezing tightly against my muscles. It was painful, but in a strangely satisfying way. I almost wanted them tighter. I liked feeling restrained and at Hunter’s mercy. I loved being the center of his attention and so connected to every one of his movements that I could just lose myself in the rope in his hands.
