cross your wrists. Reach as high as you can.”
Face flushed, she did as she was told, wondering what was so easy about feeling exposed and vulnerable. Stretching, she was surprised to touch something dangling above her head. Her heart galloped as he reached to her wrists and she realized what he planned to do. A protest formed on her lips but didn’t find a voice.
Working swiftly, he bound her wrists with what felt like strips of leather. As he stepped aside to survey his handiwork, she tilted her head back to do the same and gasped at the sight, not to mention the idea of the picture she must make in his eyes.
The leather was secured around her crossed wrists and tied to a silver horizontal bar suspended from the ceiling by chains. The setup wasn’t complicated yet was no less impressive, filling her with fear and anticipation.
He moved away for a few seconds, then returned to kneel by her feet. “Spread your legs, feet a bit wider than your shoulders. Easy, baby.”
A metal circle clamped around each ankle, and her attempt to sound demanding came out a pathetic squeak. “What are you doing?”
“This is called a spreader bar, and its job is to restrict your movement. It won’t hurt you. Nothing I do will cause you anything but the good kind of pain. Deep breaths and relax. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me here,” she begged, hating that she sounded like such a wuss.
“I’m not really leaving you, so stay calm. Five minutes, no more.”
She could do nothing but listen to his footsteps ascend the stairs and disappear. Had he done this on purpose as part of the trust building? The man never did anything by chance, so she figured he had. Leaving her trussed like a Christmas goose was all part of his grand plan, and the only thing missing was the stuffing.
Oh, God. Now, there was a double entendre that made her wet as hell and caused her nipples to pucker to the consistency of armor-piercing bullets.
“Dammit,” she muttered, trying to wiggle. It was no use — she was going nowhere until he chose to release her, and maybe not even then.
To her staggering relief, his footsteps returned. When he circled to stand in front of her, her mouth dropped open, and lust shot to every nerve ending.
The man was a black-clad dream, hips and long legs encased in soft, supple leather down to his boots. Instead of a shirt he wore some sort of crisscrossed leather harness decorated with silver studs, emphasizing his muscles and making him look like some modern-day Pancho Villa gone kinky, the only items missing, a pair of pistols and the sombrero.
“Holy freaking shit,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful.”
“Me? Thanks, but that honor goes to you, my girl.” Turning, he picked up a scrap of red cloth from a nearby table and proceeded with her lesson. “One of the most effective teaching tools of my trade is sense deprivation. Take away one or more of the senses, and the others will heighten, sometimes to the extreme, depending on the action taking place. Have you ever been blindfolded before?”
“Just as a kid when we played children’s games, like Pin the Tail on the Donkey and hitting a pinata full of candy.” A shaky giggle escaped. “I don’t think that counts.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “When a person can’t see, there’s a certain level of trust involved. When you played those childhood games, you trusted your friends not to let you run into something and trip, fall, and hurt yourself. As an adult who is also bound for my pleasure, the stakes are considerably higher. Scarier. You can’t run or hide, and your friends aren’t here to help you.”
The cloth covered her eyes with a whisper of silk and was tied behind her head. Rough palms skimmed down her raised arms, slowly, and she could swear she felt every ridge in the pads of his fingers, each callus. Then her breasts were cradled in those gentle hands, thumbs teasing her nipples, making her gasp. His touch moved to her hips and buttocks, and she practically held her breath, waiting for a hand to slide between her legs. When he moved away, she whimpered, tried to arch back, but was held fast.
In moments, she heard him return, but he didn’t speak, didn’t give any indication of what he planned to do. The fear crept in again, mingled with a rush of expectation, of desire. He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, and she believed him, but not knowing what would happen — that one grain of uncertainty — tweaked the dark, illicit corner of her mind she hadn’t known existed.
A tickle on her breasts caused her to jump and pull on the restraints, to no avail. Lightly, like a dozen spidery fingers, sensual little wisps kissed her skin over and over. Her nipples and stomach. Between her spread thighs, a ghost of touch tormented her clit, making the nub throb for even more attention.
“Blaze — I mean, sir! Please…”
“I’ll let you slip this once, sweet baby. Remember the rules, or I’ll have to punish you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me what you want.”
That was easy. “I want you to touch me, and fuck me hard,” she breathed.
“Now tell me what you
“I…” Was that a trick question? “What do you mean?”
“What a sub wants and needs are often two very different things. Do you really want to give in to the desire so quickly, see it flame bright and then burn out?” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, lips nibbling as if on a tasty delicacy. “Or would you rather I draw out the pleasure as you hang there, knowing you can do nothing but ride the wave until you scream with the force of your orgasm?”
“Oh, God! What are you doing to me?”
“Just what you want me to do, baby, nothing more and nothing less,” he whispered. “What you’ve been missing your whole life. Now tell me what you
Taking a deep breath, she let go. “I need to lose my inhibitions. Forget everything. Forget my own name.”
“That’s my girl. Don’t think, just float.” As he rummaged for something he kept talking. “Imagine your inhibitions are tied to your body with a few dozen strings, holding you back from what you need. Got the picture in your head?”
She imagined it: strings wrapped around her body like a cocoon. Smothering. Stifling. “Yes.”
“Now picture them being snipped one by one, drifting away on a sea of pleasure, helpless to keep you bound any longer.”
The idea was ironic considering that she was literally restrained, but somehow it worked. She understood exactly what he meant and cleared her mind of everything except being freed from the prison string by string, flying off into space.
The feathery instrument of torture vanished, and clever fingers plucked her nipples, keeping them at attention. Suddenly, one nipple was seized with something small, and she let out a cry, arching into the slight pain.
“Wh-what are you doing? What is that?”
“I’m giving you what you need,” he said, his tone firm but patient. “Trust me to take you there.”
“It hurts,” she whispered. Little needles were biting into the vulnerable flesh, making her squirm in a futile bid to get away. “I don’t know if I like it.”
“That’s a normal reaction, baby. Take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly.”
Breath hitching, she did as he asked. As she exhaled, a rough palm skimmed her side, soothing.
“Good girl. The pain should be easing some. Push your mind past that, and tell me how it feels now.”
“It’s better. Feels… tingly. Sensitive.”
“And this?” He flicked the tormented nipple with a finger, rubbed it back and forth.
She gasped, unable to believe the electric sensations shooting through her body. It was as if the nerve endings there were directly connected to her clit, causing both points to throb in tandem.
Needing.
“It’s good,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t understand…” She couldn’t articulate what she meant, but he seemed to know.
“You don’t understand why it’s good?”
“Yes.”
“Pain is followed by a nice rush of endorphins.” His laugh was soft and seductive as he teased and lightly
