To my astonishment, I can move around. Whatever he attached me to allows this.
“You liked what you saw on the woman’s breasts,” he says, his voice a rasp. “I’ll bind yours even tighter.”
My pussy throbs as he pulls a piece of the black rope around the top of my chest. My breasts are full, swollen, and rosy, and my nipples…
I know what’s coming, and apparently, so do they.
He continues to wrap the rope, knotting it so quickly that his fingers seem to fly, but when he gets to the swell of my breasts, he pulls two strips down over one breast, using my own flesh as a stop to let my nipples slide through the rope.
The pinch of the nylon rope against my nipple sends surges of electric current through me that land right in my clit. I moan.
I don’t speak, though he hasn’t forbidden it.
What’s happening to me seems too reverent, as if speaking will bastardize it in some way.
He repeats with the other nipple.
This is different than the bondage I witnessed—different tying and knotting—but the result is the same. My nipples are pushing outward and my God, they’re hard and straining.
My breasts and nipples now bound, Braden continues down my abdomen, binding me horizontally until he gets to my belly button. He stops there. “I can bind your legs,” he says, “but not this time. I want you to be able to spread them when I take your ass for the first time. Binding your legs will make it more painful for you.”
I nearly contradict him, telling him I welcome more pain.
But I don’t.
Because talking might bastardize what’s happening to me.
“Are you ready, Skye?” he asks.
“Always,” I reply, my voice breathy.
I close my eyes, waiting for him to complete the bondage. He’ll bind my neck and hold a rope that will allow him to tighten and loosen the collar.
I want this.
I need this.
“Turn toward the pole,” he says darkly.
I obey, my eyes still closed, the skin on my neck tingling with sharp chills.
I’m ready.
Ready to take this to the next level. And then, once I’m bound, Braden will take my anal virginity.
Yes.
Just yes.
My nipples are straining, the tight friction of the rope deliciously stimulating them. Braden’s lips and teeth would be even better, but each time I move, the friction changes slightly, and the stimulation is enthralling.
Yes, my new word.
Enthralled.
I’m fucking enthralled.
Totally under Braden’s spell, and when he binds my neck and exerts total control, I’ll be home.
Finally home.
The waiting only increases the intensity.
When will he touch the skin of my neck? When will he fit me with a rope collar? When will he pull on it, making me gasp and then releasing, allowing me to breathe in the sweet swell of beautiful air? Then he’ll paddle me, make my ass nice and crimson before he fucks me there.
When?
I wait.
And I wait.
Until—
He gently pulls out the butt plug.
I whimper.
“Easy,” he says. “I’m going to slide the head of my cock into you pretty quickly. Getting past the elastic rim is the worst part.”
But wait…
“Wait!”
“What is it, Skye?” he asks.
“I… You… You didn’t paddle me. Like in the scene.”
“All right. I didn’t realize you wanted to completely mimic the scene.”
“Not mimic, but…”
“But what?”
“My neck, Braden. I want you to bind my neck.”
He doesn’t reply for a moment. A moment that seems like a year.
Finally, he speaks.
“No, Skye.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
No?
He won’t bind me around my neck?
Why not? I’m showing him the ultimate trust. Giving him the ultimate control. Everything he holds dear.
I don’t move. I’m facing the pole, my nipples still strained and aching.
My core is ready to shatter, ready to succumb to the ultimate bondage in this room.
Ready for—
Ready for anything. I open my mouth, ready to shout to Braden that I’ll give him what he wants. I’ll give him control over every aspect of my life, if he’ll only bind me around my neck—
My arms slacken. Braden has unhooked the binding to the pole.
“Turn around, Skye. Face me.”
I obey, looking down at the beautiful knotting across my chest.
“Look at me,” he says.
I lift my head and meet his gaze. His blue eyes, only a moment ago alive with sapphire flames, now look…
Different.
Not happy. Not sad. Not turned on.
Resigned.
And I don’t know why.
He touches the rope around my chest and loosens it.
No. I don’t want to be unbound. I want to lose control here. I want to go under. All the way under.
I want it because he wants it.
I want it because I want it.
“You’re not looking at me,” he says.
He’s right. My gaze dropped to his fingers at the rope. I lift my head and look into his eyes as he finishes unbinding me. The ropes fall to the floor.
Finally, I say, “I don’t understand.”
He picks up the ropes and brings them to the chest. Then he returns to me, takes my hand, and leads me to the bed. “Sit.”