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“Take a look,” I tell him. I haven't looked at Zolina, not wanting to see what reflects back in her eyes.
Caveman looks down and realizes his problem. “What. The. FUCK?!” His screams fill the room.
The blood and flesh are now starting to shed from his body like wood does when you sand something down. Instead of sawdust, this could be considered ‘fleshdust’. . . I think? I chuckle to myself.
Just as I finish internally laughing, the elevator chimes. Jacob and Harris come strolling in before they see Zolina. They both turn around lightning–quick.
“Great timing, boys. I have a little project for you to finish up.” I halt what I'm doing, letting the stranger scream and cry about his fallen member. Stalking over to my wife, I stand her up, throw her over my shoulder, and start off towards the elevator. “Good luck, you two. Don't bother us. We have to finish what we started.”
We pass Jacob and Harris as they turn around, trying their hardest not to look at my over-the-shoulder package. Zolina giggles at them but doesn't speak.
“Come on, Snowflake.” I slap her ass as I step into the lift and press the button. “We have more fun to attend to.”
Chapter 29
Zolina
My arms are clasped and tied behind my back. The rope digging into my skin, pinning my arms and leaving no give. My spine is hunched, forcing my ass to point to the ceiling.
“Atlis, please,” I beg. I don’t know what I’m begging for as I look up and stare at myself in the mirrored elevator. I can’t help but look at the way his tattooed hand fits snuggly in between my thighs as he grips me tight.
“Patience, Snowflake,” he chuckles.
“I can’t,” I pant out.
My ankles are tied together as well. The friction of my legs rubbing together as he carries me through the house makes me moan. It’s not enough. I need more.
Every sense is heightened, and the alcohol I drank earlier threatens to drown me. I’m lightheaded, and being thrown over a shoulder isn’t helping my hazy perspective.
We stop at the door that’s locked. I haven’t been into this room yet, but I’m excited to see what’s inside. Atlis wiggles me around on his shoulder while he digs in his pocket. He pulls out a ring of keys, finds the one he needs and opens the door.
“In this room, you will only call me Daddy. Do you understand and agree?” Atlis asks as he sets me down on my feet.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now, don’t move.” He walks around the room, and I have a moment to gather my footing. After being held with his shoulder in my already churning gut, I am left breathless and slightly woozy.
The walls are painted black with silver crown molding. It’s dark, yet elegant. Silver hooks line the walls with paddles, ropes, floggers, and other things I don’t know the name for. The far wall has a giant curtain hanging, and I assume once it opens, the floor-to-ceiling windows are behind it.
With the knowledge from a few of the books I’ve read, I can also pick out the Saint Andrew’s Cross, a spanking table, and a few suspension hooks that drape down from the ceiling. Atlis walks to the hooks and unravels the knots in the cordage, dropping them down.
“I am going to suspend you from these hooks. They’ll hold your body in the air. I’ll use a carabiner for easy removal since you're new to this. Are you okay with that?” He asks, looking at me while working.
“Yes, Daddy,” I quietly reply. I’ve never done any sort of suspension before. I’ve just read about it. Then again, I haven’t done any of this before.
He walks over to me, picks me up yet again, and carries me over to the hooks. He lifts me onto a small step stool and unties my hands and feet. I remain as still as I can, not wavering at all. Atlis very carefully cuts off my clothes and starts stringing me to the ropes like a master would a puppet. Shibari is an art form, not torture. Therefore, he takes his time.
Atlis starts with a double layer of the soft rope around my ribs and loops it behind me. The next thing I know he is gently tossing the same rope over my shoulders and tying them into knots along my sternum. They wrap around my upper arms, lace back in and down to my wrists, and tie somewhere behind me. He takes a step back to admire my body and his work, seemingly deciding it’s not enough.
He walks to the wall that holds the rest of the fabric and brings two ropes back towards me. He starts this cast the same way he started my upper body, but now around my waist. This time, instead of throwing them over my shoulders, he wraps the rope around my hips. He brings it between my ass cheeks and out through my thighs, and ropes around the apex of my thighs. His hands and the rope barely graze my pussy, but it takes every ounce of my willpower not to lean into his touch and disturb his work. He joins this rope back to the first, behind my back, ending this cast.
Before he is completely finished, he ties one last rope to my ankles like the wrist cuffs from earlier. Lifting me, he ties the two waist ropes to the mounting hook. Once I’m suspended properly, he grabs the rope positioned on my legs and joins them to the rest. The cast from my rigger is complete. I am now beautifully hogtied and swaying from the ceiling.
“So fucking beautiful. Look at you, hanging there, ready for me to consume. Are you ready for Daddy to tease you until you can’t breathe anymore? Until your legs are shaking with need? Until you become a writhing, dripping, post-orgasm mess?”
“Yes,” I reply, breathlessly. I tried to catch my breath after he put me down, but it never came back. My body is practically vibrating with want for this man. How can a devil like him whisper these words to me like a God?
He slaps his hand directly on my bare right nipple. “Yes, what?”
