Bind by Sierra Cartwright Page A

curly tendrils.
    “I enjoyed that,” he said.
    “I bet you did,” she agreed. She moved so she could look at him. “It’s not your ass that’s sore.”
    “True.” He raised a finger to his mouth and licked her juices from it.
    She’d never seen anything as shockingly erotic. It made her needy all over again.
    “You survived your first punishment.”
    “Are they all like that?”
    “Depends on the infraction,” he said. “I told you I want the punishment to fit the crime. Your infraction was wanting to touch me, so I forced you to keep your hands on the bench. But you won’t always get an orgasm with a punishment. In fact, most times you won’t. I’ll want you to think about what you did.” He put his hand in her hair and pulled her head back a little. “You have one promise from me. You will never, ever be punished when either of us are angry. You’ll always know the reason as we will have talked about it ahead of time, and you will have agreed to it. At times, you may get to choose it.”
    “I actually don’t intend to be punished ever again.” Even as she said it, she wriggled around on his lap, aware of the scratchy denim of his jeans and the tenderness of her skin.
    “Would you like to see the playroom?”
    “If you wish, Sir.”
    He helped her to stand. A little embarrassed, she straightened her dress and reached for her underwear.
    “Leave them. I like knowing you’re still damp, and I’m hoping your dress keeps reminding you of the handprints on your buttocks.”
    “Diabolical.”
    “Never underestimate that trait,” he warned, and she knew she’d do well to heed the words.
    He led her to the playroom.
    “Feel free to touch and hold anything.”
    “I’m not sure I’m that brave.” She wandered around. A slender chest of drawers was pushed against one wall. Despite the fact there were no windows, the space seemed light and airy. The wooden floor was polished and, as she expected, all of the items in the room were obsessively organized.
    “What is that?” she pointed to an odd-looking contraption in the corner. It had two different pads, set at different heights. It was covered in red vinyl, and the metal stand was painted a glossy black.
    “Spanking bench.”
    “It looks like a chair.” She considered it. “Of sorts.”
    “It’s a versatile piece. The knobs on the side allow the back platform to be adjusted by about a foot and the lower portion can be unlocked so it folds down. Eyehooks allow the Dom to bind a sub in any number of ways. You can kneel on the bottom part and be secured to the top. I can have you stand and grab the top. From the opposite side, you can be fastened to the lower end so that you’re bent over more. I can even make it all the same height. The possibilities are almost endless.”
    She realized he’d started out by talking about the spanking bench in general terms. But then he’d become more specific. Instead of discussing how a Dom restrained a sub, now he was being explicit about what he expected from her. “This place seems pretty kinky for a man who says he’s only looking for a submissive to show him respect.”
    “I did say I enjoyed kinky sex,” he reminded her, his eyes dancing with a devilment that made her shiver.
    “You did.” A number of floggers hung on the walls, along with other scary-looking implements of pain.
    “You indicated you’d had some experience with a flogger.”
    “It didn’t look quite like those. It was shorter, not as…” She searched for the right word. “Sturdy. Less expensive, maybe?” She doubted it had even been made of leather. Even from a few feet away, there was no mistaking the scent of these. “I’m not really sure what everything else is. Some, I can guess.” The cane, for example.
    He took down a coiled piece of leather. It was black, braided and fearsome.
    “This is a single tail,” he said. “It’s a type of whip.”
    “Looks like something out of an action-adventure movie.” She