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The lights along the paved path leading down the back of the hill already glowed, spreading their golden illumination on the blooming desert plants lining the way.
“Layla?” I called out as I got closer, waiting for her voice but getting nothing but silence in response.
When I reached the wrought iron gate leading to the pool, the water lay perfectly still and calm, no wet footprints marring the cement.
“Layla?” I called again, a little worried because she wasn’t where she said she’d be.
In the weeks since her kidnapping, I’ve struggled with my feelings of failure and self-loathing because I let her down. I’d promised to keep her safe, yet she was still taken. My friends had tried to reason with me, to make me see that none of this shit was my fault, but it was. If I hadn’t claimed Layla, Caroline and Greg would never have gotten their hands on her.
For the first two weeks after the kidnapping, Layla had horrific nightmares about being raped and murdered. Sometimes, she’d talk about it in her sleep, begging them to leave her alone. Each word would hit me like a blow, and my self-loathing would make me feel unworthy to even touch her. And it didn’t help that Layla no longer responded to me like she used to. The chemistry was still there between us, but something blocked her. Her therapist said to give her time, so that was what I was trying to do. Give her time.
Even if it killed me, I would give her the space she needed to heal.
Her voice floated out on the evening breeze, “Back here.”
A small pool house sat to the side, with a deck circled by one-way glass on the other side, overlooking the valley.
As I rounded the building, I stumbled to a halt, almost dropping the towel I carried.
Normally the small patio featured a sofa, two chairs, and a low mahogany deck table arranged in the space. Now, I spotted a BDSM X-shaped bondage frame surrounded by hundreds of candles.
Rubbing my eyes, I took a step closer, fingering some of the silver o-rings that lined the edge of the frame.
“Hey,” came Layla’s husky voice from behind me. “Glad you could make it.”
I turned, ready to ask her what the heck was going on, but nearly swallowed my tongue instead.
Layla stood there like a wet fetish dream, dressed from head to toe in a black latex catsuit with the nipples and crotch cutout.
The slick, shiny material hugged her every curve, covering her completely, yet revealing everything. It was so erotic, my dick began to leak precum and I groaned. She adjusted her stance the tiniest bit, exposing how wet she was already. Lust had her sex nicely swollen and her cheeks pink, while her nipples stood out, tight and red, from the unrelieved black of her outfit. She also wore a pair of kick ass boots laced all the way up to her knees.
Working those boots, she strolled over to me, her expression almost predatory and sexy as fuck. She’d done some kind of makeup that made her look sultry and exotic. Her birthmark wasn’t covered up with foundation, but it in no way detracted from her beauty. Her lips were a deep, sexy red that made me ache to slide my dick between them.
“I want you, on that cross, now.”
I had to fight back a smile at her cute, sweet bossy tone. “Do you now?”
Pressing her hands against my bare chest, she brushed her latex clad pelvis over my dick. “Please?”
Shit, she could have asked me to cut off my arm at this point, and I would have done it.
Still, I had to make sure she was in the right head space for this.
I didn’t want to inadvertently mentally or physically hurt her.
“Are you sure?”
She dug her nails into my chest. “Get on the cross, now.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes at me but smiled when I stood before the cross. “How do you want me?”
“Naked.”
As I began to pull my swim trunks down, she reached between her legs and played with her clit, showing me how hard it was.
“Good,” she said in a heavy breath. “Now I want you with your back to the cross, arms above your head.”
I watched her as she strapped me in, securing my wrists over my head and my ankles to the smooth, heavy wood.
She paused to give my hard dick a few strokes and I had to bite my cheek to hold back my cum.
“Where did you get this?” I asked as I gave my hands an experimental tug.
The restraints were loose enough that I could break free if I wanted.
Which I totally did not.
It was incredibly arousing to watch Layla as she took charge, an odd sense of pride mixing with my desire.
Maybe this taking back of control of her sexuality was what she needed to work shit out in her head.
