Page 69 of Temptation at Randy's

Personally, I was fine with letting them lead, but I knew what they meant. I supposed it was another reason why high protocols were not a thing that worked for us. As much as I was happy with letting them lead, I couldn’t just give up every ounce of control. I supposed it was the same Claude went through—they thrived with that control, but all of it would become too much fast.

I got it.

What we had worked, and that was what I focused on as I lifted my arm off the bed. Claude grabbed a pair of handcuffs covered in black fuzz.

“I know leather ones are better, but I couldn’t find any on short notice that weren’t super bulky, so you just tell me if it bothers you at any point.”

I held my breath only to let it out slowly. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

I still grew tense as the click of metal gave proof that I was secured to the head of the bed. My right hand came next. Claude was moving around, nudging my legs apart to shackle my ankles to the feet of the bed.

“Are all these really necessary?” I wasn’t scared to be tied up, per se, but it was something new. I needed a second to get used to the helplessness that came when I tried to give a tug to my restraints and they barely budged.

“Keeping in mind how much you love to wiggle around?” Claude raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, they are.”

If it was something else, they would’ve checked in, but we’d talked about it last night, about what I needed if I started freaking out or posed questions.

I let my eyes drift closed. Knowing that there was a script, and that Claude was following the script as we’d established, took some of the tension off my body.

It was okay.

And I did want this.

“I don’t wiggle around that much.”

I totally did. I just hadn’t quite let go of feeling somewhat self-conscious about it yet. Claude just said it was cute—or amusing—when I brought it up. It was no use. They were the most biased person out there for anything that had to do with me.

They also hated it when I mentioned it because a part of them would always pretend to be a grump even though they totally weren’t. Whatever. It made me feel warm inside. It was a reminder that Claude really loved me when stress got to me because of work or anything else.

My chest heaved up and down. I knew why they were doing it, but Claude was taking way too long preparing the candles. I liked that they cared, and that they put care into what they were doing, but at this point, there was no way a part of it wasn’t Claude building up my anticipation and being the tease they were.

“Claude…” I bit on my lip before I let out more words than absolutely needed.

Begging this early would only encourage Claude more. I’d learned as much.

“What is it?” They grinned as they looked over at me.

I squirmed. Claude quirked an eyebrow. I knew what they were thinking. I’d just told them I didn’t wiggle a lot.

Whatever. What was a girl supposed to do when she was splayed naked on a bed, shackled to it, and their Domm was leisurely playing around with a few paraffin waxes?

Given the circumstances, I’d say I was behaving better than anyone could expect.

“Maybe hurry up?”

“So impatient.” Claude pretended to look up in exasperation. Their poker face wasn’t as good as they liked to think it was. “You know I tried it on the inside of my wrist the other day, but did you want me to do it on yours before I start?”

I debated over it. In the end, no more than two seconds later, I shook my head. I appreciated the question—it helped me slip into the passenger seat and let Claude take over. At the end of the day, though, a big part of what drew me to this was the trepidation, the buildup while imagining how something would feel versus how it actually felt.

“Okay.” Claude got on the bed, standing on their haunches between my legs. “And you remember your safe word, yes?”

“We just use red and yellow, of course I remember.”

Well, I mostly used yellow, sometimes when I was too overwhelmed and needed a second because too many things were happening at once. Or when I couldn’t take the teasing pace Claude set any longer.

I really wasn’t good at delayed gratification. It was a problem I should probably look more into, but the truth was, for once, I didn’t care that much.

I could be selfish about my pleasure if I wanted.

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