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A small squeak escapes. Is he? Oh, God, is he going to do that to me? But I nod.
Because I think I’m so far gone over him that I’d let him. It’s madness, I know. Wrong. Yet…
“Thought so. What’s the line, Pollyanna? Do you have one? With me?”
He asks, but I think it’s more of a rhetorical thing, existential in a way.
“I’m not sure you’d like it. And it’s not something I’m into.”
Mercer’s gaze shifts over me, but he doesn’t touch. And he settles on black rope which he starts unwinding. There is more than one bundle of it, and I shift, a little nervous because this Master is so in control, that strange intensity and detachment whispers he’s capable of anything.
“You’re so wet, sweet Pollyanna, it’s running down your thigh.” He slides a hand over his erection that I didn’t even notice because I was so caught up in the rest of him and his actions. “You get me fucking hard all the time. Your taste, your body, your smell. How you are when I use you. I like wondering how you’ll be when I sink balls deep into your tight cunt.” He raises a hand for me to speak.
“Master?” I struggle to control my breathing, the stretch of my body, the pull on my arms taking on a sexual edge. “Why don’t you?”
“I like waiting.” He looks at me, then the pillar, and he goes over to it. He slots in hooks.
The thing is diagonal to his desk, and it’s something he can look at from there, as well as from the sofa. My pussy throbs.
Please, please, please!!!
“And I like to test my limits. Control is a turn on.” He unhooks me and leads me over to the pillar.
But my freedom’s short lived. He binds one wrist tight, a knot placed on my pulse, and then he does the same to the other. After circling me again, he binds my arms, one at a time and then, working in deliberate, thoughtful moves, he starts tying knots in the rope as he wraps it around my upper torso above my breasts, and then around them.
He talks as he works on my waist and legs.
“But control is just part of it. The exchange of power. The imbalance is a turn on for both involved. You give me your power and the responsibility that no matter what, you’ll be safe.”
“And rope?”
“I find spanking fun,” Mercer says like I didn’t speak. “The heat that radiates is a turn on, and feeling that against my cock is like nothing on Earth. You finding pleasure in the pain and humiliation is perfection. I like getting fucking rough. I like it all, although extreme shit where there are permanent changes like brands or scars or tattoos aren’t my thing. Neither is body modification, like implants or piercings. People are into real shit. And I also mean that literally.” A hint of a smile lifts his lips. “I’m not. Just so you know.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Hard no?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t laugh as he studies me and then the pillar. Then he starts adding more ropes. They’re everywhere. Except my pussy. Is this how he likes it? Bound up to use me as he pleases?
“I love rope play. Real rope play. Not ‘tie her up and bang her because she’s bound’ shit. I like the real deal. But only with someone I like. Someone I want to spend the time on.”
My heart floats higher in my chest at that.
Mercer’s working a series of knots. He ties one end behindme, on the rope at my lower back, and he pulls the new piece down my ass crack. The first knot hitting my asshole, the second, my perineum. The third, my slit, and the fourth…
Oh, God, it comes to rest at my clit.
I try to see what he’s doing.
“Eyes up, Pollyanna, or I’ll fucking blindfold you.”
His hands move over me, the strangely impersonal touch is more of a turn on than I could have ever imagined.
“All this is control?”
“Yes.”
