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It’s no louder than his regular voice, but the command is stronger, the power all his. It’s like he drains mine and my heart starts to beat faster.
“Drink up, Red.”
He shifts, moving behind me, and he ties a blindfold over my eyes.
“M-Malone?”
“Trust, Baby Red?” He frames it as a question, but it isn’t, not really. Even as he checks in, he knows he has it.
“Where are we?”
“It’s a playroom.” He takes the glass and holds it up to my lips, tipping it so I can drink. Then he takes it away and moves back behind me. His hand curls in my ponytail as he tugs my head back. “I’m going to take off your dress, tie you up, and suspend you, and then I’ll make you come.”
“Malone?”
“No words, Red. And don’t come until I command. That’s going to be the next time I speak to you. When I give you permission.” He pauses. “Nod if you understand.”
I nod.
“Stop fucking thinking, Red.” He pauses. “And kneel.”
I fall to my knees and he’s there, coming down with me, pressing up against me, hands stroking, touching, exploring.
Fear and anticipation thread through my veins as he unzips the dress, letting it fall to the ground. He stops talking and all I know is his touch.
He slides his fingers, featherlight and teasing, over my exposed flesh and it hits me; this is why I’m wearing underwear. The playrooms are the ones with the glass, where others outside can watch.
A thousand thoughts hit me, but the moment he steps in close, his hands stroking down my arms to fold them behind my back, trapping them between me and him, those thoughts stop.
He slides his mouth up my shoulders, and his hands do the same. I can barely breathe. I’m so full of everything and it quivers, just for him.
Along the collar he wraps his hand, a soft and gentle squeeze, and then he shifts it down to under my breasts, his mouth nuzzling me.
My body throbs, a blooming from my clit outward, and I wobble a little, my stomach fluttering.
Malone winds the first piece of rope around my chest, right under my breasts, his fingers smoothing over it, a sensuous, flow of connection to me. The chaotic world inside of me stills, calms.
There is only him, his rope, and his touch. The music becomes like one with me, flowing and rippling through. He smooths the rope as he sets it in place, skimming my skin and making me shiver.
He pulls it so it tightens, then knots it. He adds another layer and then another. Afterward, he takes my arms, fingers whispering down along the sensitive skin, and everywhere he touches makes heat and flame burst into breathing life within my flesh.
Malone’s mouth strokes down over my nape before he wraps and binds my arms, taking his time, each cross of the rope making it so I can’t move them, my hands tied together.
He rises, and I think he ties the rope to something as the weight of my arms shifts, but he doesn’t stop touching me, his fingertips trailing over my shoulder and my mouth.
Once more, he kneels in front of me, his body almost pressed against mine as he skims my lips with his and runs his hands down over my hips and ass.
He winds more rope low on my waist, then threads it through my thighs and up and then down again so knots sit at my asshole, and there’s one above my clit. Through the underwear I can feel the pull on my outer pussy lips, where he runs his fingers, back and forth and up to stroke my clit three times.
He slides his hands over my stomach and down to my thighs where he wraps rope around them each, up the top, and around the bottom of my ass.
It’s like he’s connecting each leg.
Suddenly, he shifts away from me, and I almost cry out. It’s like forever. It’s a moment, and he pulls the ropes slow, making me rise. He’s there. Of course he’s there to help me. I have to go on my toes.
He ties rope above my left knee, around and around, and he pulls so my leg rises up without me deciding to. He makes me. I’m balanced on one foot, but I think if I lifted that I’d still be up. He’s back, fingers skimming over my exposed and roped flesh, until he ties up my other leg, and then he pulls.
I’m suspended on a harness that he’s made, and it lifts me up, parting my legs. If I was naked, I’d be utterly, lewdly exposed.
