Page 148 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Ready?” I ask, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Yes.” She licks her lips, drawing my gaze to the plump, kiss-swollen flesh. “I want it. I want to know what it’s like.”

Her eagerness spurs me on. Her submission is a gift, and the need to push her, to see how much she’ll take, somehow meshes perfectly with my desire to protect her.

I drag the soft rope over her spine, my cock throbbing at the shiver that goes through her. Then I lift her arms, bringing them together behind her back.

A tremor runs through her, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“Alright?” I check in.

“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes drifting closed as I start to wind the rope around her.

Ryder and Beckett are totally silent, clearly as caught up in watching her reactions as I am as I slowly tug her arms further behind her, stretching her body out beautifully.

She moans softly, and I tie off the first knot just under her elbows, then start to weave the ropes in a more intricate pattern. One that will put her into a state of complete vulnerability.

“How does this feel?”

“Secure.” She inhales deeply, tension visibly flowing out of her body as her chest expands with her breath, straining against the ropes for a moment. “Restrained. Good.”

I can tell she’s not trying to break free of them, just testing their limits.

“Good,” I praise her. “That’s it. Just feel.”

Her eyes flutter shut, her features softening as I carefully wind more of the rope—the red one—down her forearms, sliding my fingers beneath it and testing as I go to ensure that it’s tight enough to bind but not so tight that it puts her circulation at risk.

“Fuck, that looks incredible,” Ryder murmurs.

“Mmm,” Beckett agrees, his gaze intent upon her. “Fucking beautiful.”

I work slowly, methodically, wanting to take care with her but also enjoying the process itself. I’ve always found shibari to be both arousing and meditative, putting me into a headspace where I’m completely focused on the submissive giving me their trust. And fuck, the way Lana takes to it is like no one I’ve ever played with before.

She’s a natural.

I reach her palms, tying an intricate, beautiful pattern around her wrists and between her fingers, then tie off another knot, fully securing her hands behind her back.

Lana whimpers, her body trembling. I can see her pulse fluttering in her throat, the rapid beat mirroring the thrum of her blood in her veins, the flush staining her cheeks as she tests the ropes again, then practically melts against the spanking bench when she realizes her arms are fully restrained.

This is one of the many reasons I love shibari. The security it gives a sub, the ability to reassure them without any words being spoken that they are completely free to let themselves go, is utterly addictive.

“Green,” Lana murmurs as I reach for the next rope.

I grin. I have no idea if she’s confirming that she’s willing and receptive to this, or just making an observation, since I’ve grabbed the forest-green colored rope for her legs. But either way, the slightly dreamy quality in her voice tells me she’s quickly falling into subspace.

I crouch down and start to bind her ankles to the base of the bench, winding the ropes in another intricate pattern as I work my way up her legs, one that will keep her spread wide and available for use.

I’m always careful when I do this. The safety of any sub who puts their trust in me is always my first priority. But with Lana, it feels so much deeper than that. I’m not just careful; I’m driven by an almost primal need to take care of her and ensure that it’s an experience she enjoys.

Her breath starts to quicken as I continue, and she starts squirming a little and subtly rocking her hips against the bench. Her body is still relaxed and pliant, but her growing arousal is obvious too.

And it starts to test my control.

Rope work always turns me on. Any submissive willing to put herself in my hands does. But Lana is something more. I’m not just sharing something I love with her. I’m discovering that she was made for it.

“Fuck, love,” Ryder murmurs as I finally reach her thigh and tie off the rope, then start in on her other side. “Tristan’s wrapping you up like a Christmas gift for us.”

He leans back against the wall, lazily fisting his cock as his eyes rake over my work, and Beckett grunts his agreement.

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