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Lia didnotlike the gag and leash. It was humiliating, as if she were a muzzled dog being taken for a walk. But she couldn’t deny the calming and deeply erotic feelings engendered by being constrained so securely in the lovely linen rope.
It was tight around her body, but not painfully so. Her arms were completely immobilized behind her back, her breasts lifted and pressed together in their rope harness. The snug confines helped her to relinquish control, something that was never easy for her. The physical restraint in and of itself was stimulating, leading to heightened sensations and an increased sense of arousal.
The limited movement and lack of control made her hyper-aware of her body and the sensations it experienced. Her nipples were throbbing, the feeling magnified by the restriction of blood flow caused by the ropes. Her clit pulsed against the rope between her legs, which was growing damp from her juices.
All the Masters at The Enclave had been as exacting as Beau, if not more so. They were just as quick to correct, to command and to control. She’d been bound and gagged more than once during her brief tenure at The Enclave, put on embarrassing display as yet another in the daily punishments she’d received for her inability to conform.
The one-on-one sessions with rotating Masters had been relatively brief and always impersonal. She was an object to be molded and trained, interchangeable with the other trainees. She’d been required to sexually service one and all of the Masters, occasionally subjected to forced orgasms along the way.
The exercises were designed to break her down and rebuild her into an ideal Enclave slave, something she’d thought she craved. But, instead of connecting with the serene inner sub that Lucia and Master Anthony continued to insist resided within her, she’d chafed at each new demand. She’d never been able to let go enough to truly submit.
She’d spent as much time away from the Masters as with them—doing chores, grooming, observing, hanging out with the other subs—basically being seen but not heard. When the day ended, she was relegated to her single bed in the slave quarters, while the Masters slept with their real partners two floors above.
Beau’s astonishing offer to work with her had rekindled a flame of hope. But it was a tiny flame, one easily snuffed. She didn’t have the conviction Lucia and Master Anthony seemed to have about her, despite how much she wanted it. In her heart of hearts, she still believed she was a lost cause.
But maybe, just maybe with Beau it would be different. The approach was certainly different. She’d signed up for intensive, one-on-one training with a single Dom whose sole focus was her. She wasn’t an interchangeable trainee. Already, in just the brief time she’d known the man, she felt both seen and heard.
Maybe he’d not only unlock the door to her deepest desires but fall madly in love with her in the process.
Whoa.
Where the hell hadthatcome from?
Her ruminations were interrupted by the need to concentrate as he led her down the stairs by the rope leash. With her arms trussed behind her back, she had to focus to keep from stumbling. The annoying gag between her teeth was making her drool. She managed to swallow before too much slid down her chin.
When they got downstairs, he led her back into the living room. The crowd had thinned out some, no doubt moving into the dungeon to try out their new purchases. But there were still plenty of people milling about. Several of the resident slaves and trainees were scattered about the room, helping at the vendor tables or chatting with visitors.
All eyes seemed to be on her as Beau pulled her along behind him. She felt more exposed than if she’d been completely naked, and certainly more vulnerable.
The rope between her legs rubbed like fingers over her cunt. Despite her efforts to keep her mouth closed over the now soggy gag between her teeth, drool spilled down her chin and dripped onto her chest. Her nipples throbbed almost painfully in their confines, her bound arms forcing her to arch her back to keep her balance.
Beau finally stopped in front of Maria Stafford’s table. Lia had met the whip maker along with the other two at last night’s dinner. Around forty, she wore her shiny black hair in a bob that bracketed an angular, almost masculine face. Her wares included leather paddles, quirts and riding crops of various sizes.
She was chatting with someone who appeared to have just completed a purchase. The male trainee, Nick, stood beside her, naked save for his training collar. Lia couldn’t help but notice his well-muscled chest was reddened and stippled with marks no doubt created by Maria’s various crops and quirts. Lia’s skin tingled with both sympathy and desire.
He and Lia exchanged a glance, Nick lifting a blond brow as he looked her over. Again, she experienced a heightened sense of vulnerability at her predicament.
Once the customer moved away, Maria turned her attention to them. As the night before, she was dressed in a sheer blouse tucked into a black leather skirt, though today it was red rather than see-through white.
“Well, hello there,” she said to Beau with a predator’s smile. “I don’t recall seeing you last night at dinner. I woulddefinitelyhave remembered.”
Hands off, Lia wanted to snarl.
She immediately squelched the impulse, which was absurd. She reminded herself sternly of what Beau had so bluntly informed her not ten minutes before. They werenothooking up. They weren’t even scene partners. He had agreed to have a try with the trainee dropout, nothing more.
“Is she yours?” Maria asked, her eyes raking Lia’s bound body.
“For the time being,” Beau replied.
“That’s top-notch rope work,” Maria said approvingly. “Shibari?”
“Similar,” Beau agreed with a nod. “Kinbaku.”
“Let me get a better look.” Maria moved around the table to stand directly in front of Lia. “I love her round little titties,” she said, still addressing Beau. “Is she for sale?”
No, I’m not for sale because I’m not owned,Lia wanted to snap. Instead, she bit down on the rope gag between her teeth.
