She gasped as in one snip it fell
open, and in two more the straps were cut and the remains of the filmy garment fell
to the floor.
She knew what was coming, but all the same it made her breath catch when he cut her
underwear off her and pulled the fabric away, leaving her in nothing but a few feet
of rope and her heels. But she was proud of her body—she only arched her back, raising
her bare breasts higher.
She heard a small chuckle from him. “Very good, princess. That’s exactly what I want
to see. I can tell you like it, being naked, on your knees.” He leaned over her and
fisted her bound hair in his hand once more, yanking hard, and she pulled in a sharp
breath. His face was right next to hers, his cheek pressedagainst hers. He said quietly, “Now we’ll find out just how much you like this.”
She closed her eyes as he pressed two fingers right into the damp heat between her
thighs, sliding in her juices. Pleasure lanced into her.
“Christ, you’re wet, baby. Do you know what that does to me? Entices the beast to
come out of its cave. But we can’t have that. Not yet, that’s for sure. We’ll just
have to do something about it.”
He let her hair go, pulled his fingers from her, leaving her shivering with need and
heat, and returned with more rope, which he laid on the floor next to her, coiled
into bundles. With quick hands he began to fashion a harness around her breasts, the
rope sliding and slinking over her skin like a snake, sending small vibrations through
her system. She loved every moment of it—the sensation of being slowly decorated,
of being rendered helpless, being in his hands.
His
hands.
As he drew the ropes tighter around her breasts, one rope across the top, another
beneath them, she felt the pressure, making them even more sensitive, the sinuous
slide of the rope across her skin making her nipples hard. Making her shiver. He worked
the rope between her breasts, making a series of knots in the center that pressed
painfully against her ribs, but she loved it. Wanted it.
He slid his hand under the rope there, pulled hard, pulling her up onto her knees.
Ah, this was good, being handled this roughly. She didn’t dare look up at him, keeping
her gaze on the floor. But oh, how she wanted to. Wanted to see that animal banked
and burning in his gray gaze.
“Very good,” he murmured. “I like seeing the rope on you, the way it presses into
your flesh. What do you feel in them, Allie? Tell me.”
“I feel . . .” She had to pause, to take in a breath, which was a bit harder to do
with the chest harness in place, just as it was when she wore a corset. “I feel . . .
as if I’m being held. Hugged. I feel . . . excited. And safe, somehow.”
“You are made for this, Allie girl. Made for my ropes, aren’t you? Stay right there.”
The ropes were sliding again as he worked them through the chest harness and down
around her body—her ribs, her waist, across her back, and finally, between her legs.
The rope slipped between her thighs, against her aching sex, and she almost cried
out, her thighs shaking.
He was quiet as he worked, but she could hear his breath, almost as heavy as her own,
felt the pressure and easing of hands as he moved the rope, tied knots, stopped to
pull on the harness for no other purpose than to make her feel commanded. To make
them pull hard against her swollen clit, to tighten there until the rope sank painfully
between her pussy lips.
Oh, God, she loved it.
When he tipped her over onto her side she didn’t protest, she just went down onto
the floor, the rug a bit scratchy against her bare skin. He rolled her over onto her
stomach with rough hands. She had always loved being manhandled a bit while in scene.
But when he pulled her ankles up and she understood he meant to hog-tie her, something
in her rebelled, her legs going stiff.
He was on her in a moment, his knee in her
open, and in two more the straps were cut and the remains of the filmy garment fell
to the floor.
She knew what was coming, but all the same it made her breath catch when he cut her
underwear off her and pulled the fabric away, leaving her in nothing but a few feet
of rope and her heels. But she was proud of her body—she only arched her back, raising
her bare breasts higher.
She heard a small chuckle from him. “Very good, princess. That’s exactly what I want
to see. I can tell you like it, being naked, on your knees.” He leaned over her and
fisted her bound hair in his hand once more, yanking hard, and she pulled in a sharp
breath. His face was right next to hers, his cheek pressedagainst hers. He said quietly, “Now we’ll find out just how much you like this.”
She closed her eyes as he pressed two fingers right into the damp heat between her
thighs, sliding in her juices. Pleasure lanced into her.
“Christ, you’re wet, baby. Do you know what that does to me? Entices the beast to
come out of its cave. But we can’t have that. Not yet, that’s for sure. We’ll just
have to do something about it.”
He let her hair go, pulled his fingers from her, leaving her shivering with need and
heat, and returned with more rope, which he laid on the floor next to her, coiled
into bundles. With quick hands he began to fashion a harness around her breasts, the
rope sliding and slinking over her skin like a snake, sending small vibrations through
her system. She loved every moment of it—the sensation of being slowly decorated,
of being rendered helpless, being in his hands.
His
hands.
As he drew the ropes tighter around her breasts, one rope across the top, another
beneath them, she felt the pressure, making them even more sensitive, the sinuous
slide of the rope across her skin making her nipples hard. Making her shiver. He worked
the rope between her breasts, making a series of knots in the center that pressed
painfully against her ribs, but she loved it. Wanted it.
He slid his hand under the rope there, pulled hard, pulling her up onto her knees.
Ah, this was good, being handled this roughly. She didn’t dare look up at him, keeping
her gaze on the floor. But oh, how she wanted to. Wanted to see that animal banked
and burning in his gray gaze.
“Very good,” he murmured. “I like seeing the rope on you, the way it presses into
your flesh. What do you feel in them, Allie? Tell me.”
“I feel . . .” She had to pause, to take in a breath, which was a bit harder to do
with the chest harness in place, just as it was when she wore a corset. “I feel . . .
as if I’m being held. Hugged. I feel . . . excited. And safe, somehow.”
“You are made for this, Allie girl. Made for my ropes, aren’t you? Stay right there.”
The ropes were sliding again as he worked them through the chest harness and down
around her body—her ribs, her waist, across her back, and finally, between her legs.
The rope slipped between her thighs, against her aching sex, and she almost cried
out, her thighs shaking.
He was quiet as he worked, but she could hear his breath, almost as heavy as her own,
felt the pressure and easing of hands as he moved the rope, tied knots, stopped to
pull on the harness for no other purpose than to make her feel commanded. To make
them pull hard against her swollen clit, to tighten there until the rope sank painfully
between her pussy lips.
Oh, God, she loved it.
When he tipped her over onto her side she didn’t protest, she just went down onto
the floor, the rug a bit scratchy against her bare skin. He rolled her over onto her
stomach with rough hands. She had always loved being manhandled a bit while in scene.
But when he pulled her ankles up and she understood he meant to hog-tie her, something
in her rebelled, her legs going stiff.
He was on her in a moment, his knee in her
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