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She exhaled shakily, then her muscles tensed and released as she obeyed. Her feet waggled, her toes curling, but from the waist down, she was trapped. He knew the exact moment that knowledge clicked into place for her.
The sound she made came from way down deep inside her. Strangled and fearful. She tried to sit up and was held down by the strap on her back; the same happened when she attempted to twist and grab the restraint around her thigh.
"Breathe through it, Anarchy. You're fine, no one is going to hurt you." He set his hand between her shoulder blades and pinned her so she couldn't do the unthinkable and hurt herself. Rubbing lightly, he felt her body rebel against her capture. "I know it's a big shock, having control taken away from you so completely. Just trust me. Deep breath in, kitten. Long, slow exhale. That's it. Keep doing that."
She listened to him. One minute, two, and her body relaxed and submitted to the control he extended through the restraints. Her breath shuddered out. "I'm sorry, Sir. I wasn't expecting...there's a lot of straps. They make me feel...trapped."
Okay, that was honest. Jasper stroked along the line of her spine from nape to the back protector and back up. "I get that. Don't think of them as trapping you, Anarchy. See them as part of me. I've put them on you, the same way I'd use my hands if I had enough to hold you down exactly where I want you anddo all the dirty things to your body I feel like doing. Fighting them is fighting me. You don't want to fight me, do you, kitten?"
She shook her head. "No, Sir. I don't."
"That's because you're a good girl. Now I'm going to tie your hands down and leave you to mull that over, okay? I'm going to be two feet to your right, Anarchy, no further." Jasper took her left hand and coaxed her to drape it down the side of the bench where two straps waited. One slipped around her wrist, the other secured her bicep. He heard her whimper as he moved around to do the same to her right arm. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're feeling."
***
Chapter Eight
Tell me how you're feeling.
Scared. She was scared. It was stupid, because she knew Jasper wasn't going to do anything to her that would harm her, but she'd never been so incapacitated in her life. From the hips down, she was unable to move. The strip across her lower back ensured she couldn't sit up, and now the ability to move her arms was gone. She could flap her hands around and wiggle her fingers, but otherwise...she was completely at another person's mercy.
Cool air wafted over her heated pussy and her asshole...well, the less she thought about how exposed thatwas, the better. The way Jasper had licked both orifices told her he planned to use them however he wished and, while the thought made her pussy clench and grow wetter, her ass wasn't quite as jubilant.
Maybe he had a small cock, she thought desperately. She'd never seen him naked because he didn't find his release when he scened like most of the Avalon Doms, but...fuck, who was she kidding? She'd sat on his lap and felt what he was packing in his jeans. Like Master Atticus, he was armed and dangerous.
Sweat began to slick her skin. Heart pounding, she jumped when Jasper set his hand on her ass and gave her a gentle pat. The straps held her in place easily, setting off her anxiety as she was reminded of how securely she was tied down.
"Anarchy, focus. Talk to me."
This was what she'd been pushing for, she told herself. Months of pining over him and one major heartbreak later, she was finally living the dream of submitting to him under his rules. She just needed to block out the club's natural music of impact implements striking flesh, sharp screams, and orgasmic moans. She needed to dismiss the embarrassment of her own cries joining the rest.
She needed to breathe.
"I'll be okay, Sir. I just need a minute, please."
"Okay. We're not rushing, Anarchy. I'm right here."
She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the rattle of the trolley draw nearer. After a moment, she braved a quick glance over her shoulder and saw he was keeping his word. He was within touching distance if she uttered so much as the wrong word, rummaging through his bag and pulling out things she didn't want to know about. She quickly averted her gaze and closed her eyes again.
Don't need to see, just need to trust him.
His bag hit the floor, and she heard it scrape softly as he kicked it out of his way. "You're a good girl. No, don't tense up on me, kitten. Just give me the word when you're ready."
Eyes still closed, she nodded, then followed it up with a meek, "I'm all yours, Master."
Her skin twitched when she heard his boots thump lightly around the bench. She tracked him as he went, moaning under her breath when she realized he'd taken the long route around to stand by her feet. Firm fingers grasped her calves and pushed them wide, the supports clicking out to the sides and locking into position. Spreading her open even further.
"This cunt is teasing me," Jasper crooned, sending a shiver down her spine. His tone had changed from easy and caring to something with a hard edge. She'd heard it before when he fell into a scene, and she'd thought it was so hot how his voice encompassed who he was. Now, it was...arousing and just a little frightening. "Already so wet for me. Tipped up for my mouth...or my fingers...or my cock. How long has it been since a man fucked this pussy, Anarchy?"
Her pulse jumped. "I...Atticus..."
"No, he doesn't count. One stroke of a cock doesn't constitute a fuck." Fingers petted her, tracing her labia, sliding through the wetness. "I mean a good, long fuck. Ten inches of thick cock forcing through all this tightness and pounding you into an orgasmic wreck. Stretching you open, making you scream."
Uh-oh. Someone let the sadist slip his leash. The truth was his words were the closest she'd ever come to such an encounter. She could count her lovers on one hand, if she could call them lovers, and none of them had made her feel the way Jasper did. "N-Never, Sir."
His laugh was dark and, yes, sadistic. "Good. I'm going to enjoy being the first one to fuck you to the rhythm of your own screams." He found her clit, setting his middle finger on the soft nubbin and pressing down on it. Hard. She gasped as he circled the tender bud, keeping the pressure on over the hood until jagged nips of pleasure pierced the discomfort.
Archie tried to buck, to escape the torment on her poor clit. The restraints did their job, holding her exactly where he required her to be. When he removed his finger, she cried out against the surge of pain, then moaned as it became a fiery throb that radiated outwards.
