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Music playing from inside pauses before footsteps walk towards the door. It creeps open, Jax giving me a surprised look.
"You're back already," he says casually, opening the door wider.
"Yeah. Where is everyone?" I ask.
Jax looks into the quiet living room, his eyebrows furrowed. "Must have gone out. They will probably be back later."
"Oh," I say disappointed. "I was going to tell you guys about my date."
He stands back, motioning for me to come into his bedroom. I step inside, looking around the room quickly before my eyes fall on the contraption hanging in front of me.
"What is that?" I breathe out.
Jax closes the door behind me with a laugh. "That's my rope."
My eyes follow the rope to the ceiling, staring at the solid silver hook secured to the roof. I walk closer to inspect, my fingers feeling the black rope, surprised to find it's firm but softer than I expected.
"What's it for?" I ask curiously.
Jax stands behind me, grabbing the rope in his hand. "It's for shibari."
"Shi-what now?"
"Shibari," he laughs. "It's rope play."
I look over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Like bondage?"
His body shudders with silent laughter as he shakes his head. "Not completely. Shibari is definitely bondage, but not what you are thinking of. It's Japanese rope bondage. It's used for many different things. Would you like me to show you?"
"Okay," I answer softly, stepping out of the way as he pulls the rope towards him.
"How much do you trust me?" he asks, looping it around his hands.
I look at the hook in the ceiling. "Completely. I think."
Jax grabs my hands, placing them in front of me. "Hold your hands out."
"Will it hurt?" I ask, watching as he starts tying the rope around my wrist firmly.
He shakes his head. "No, it doesn't hurt."
Jax ties the rope, looping and twisting it around my wrist. I keep still, gazing at the black bonds as he tightens it against my skin. I wiggle my wrist, testing the tension, surprised to find I can still move around.
He repeats the action on my other wrist, making the same shape. "This is a single column tie. It's an art form essentially."
"So, what's the hook for?" I ask, glancing up again.
"I'll show you," he murmurs quietly, pulling the rope towards him and lengthening it. I watch in fascination, and confusion, as he starts weaving it around my body, tying knots and patterns in various places. I stand awkwardly as he binds my legs together, threading the rope through the ceiling hook, connecting it to my body.
I look down at my bound wrists before he pulls them behind my back, linking them together. I feel him tug the restraint, connecting it to my bound legs. When he's finished, he stops in front of me, rope in hand.
"This is the fun part," he says. "You have to trust me. I can put some pillows underneath you if you like."
"Why do we need pillows?"
"You'll see."
He steps back, wrapping the end of the rope around his hands tightly, watching the hook. As he loops it firmly, the tension in the rope grows. I remain confused, until it's tight, and I think that's the end of it, when he secures it, pulling firmly.
