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Her nipples are red and hard from the nipple clamps that still grip them. Fuck, she’s hot. I could unclamp them, suck them, bite them…
But as much as I want to, I have other plans.
Only her black panties remain, and I’ll leave them on for now. A strip of black lace and nipple clamps—the only clothing she needs at the moment.
“Grip the rungs of the headboard, Skye,” I say, my voice low and dark.
I’m ready—so ready—to show her how I can please her in the dark. Not just the dark of night but the darker side of our sexuality and passion.
She doesn’t hesitate to obey. She grips the wood firmly.
“Don’t let go,” I command.
“I won’t.”
I rise, walk back to the highboy, choose a piece of rope, and return to the bed.
I show her the rope. “Nylon doesn’t cause rope burns.”
She nods as I deftly tie her wrists in place, using the notches on the rungs. She pulls against her restraints, most likely an involuntary move. Very common. But her pulling has no effect. She’s secure in my bindings.
I walk back to the highboy, grab a silk blindfold. When I return to the bed, I place the blindfold around Skye’s eyes.
“Do you remember the last time I took your sight?”
“Yes.”
“That was to heighten your other senses. But that’s not why I’m doing it this time.”
She doesn’t respond.
“This time, I’m taking it because I can. Because you’re giving it to me.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t move your arms. You can’t see. What else should I take from you?”
“Whatever you want, Braden.”
I yank the chain between her breasts once more. She arches into the sensation, her feet flat on the bed as her hips rise. She pulls against the restraints again, and this time it’s not voluntary.
She wants to touch me.
I allow my lips to curve into a smile I know she can’t see.
Oh, I want to touch her as well, but more than anything, I want her control. I want her to bend to my will.
We’ll both reap the rewards when she does.
I undress quickly and quietly, laying my tuxedo jacket and pants on a chair, my shoes and socks on the floor. My erection is ready and willing, and though I want more than anything to shove it into Skye’s pussy, I steel myself.
First, the riding crop.
I walk to the wardrobe to retrieve it.
Again, the leather is cool against my palm as I grasp the handle.
It is now an extension of my arm—of me—and what it feels, I will feel.
