Page 18 of Absolution
This exchange is fully consensual, and that means I can lose myself in the power struggle. I can indulge in the thrilling fearand intoxicating adrenaline, and they make the world come into sharp relief around me. My senses come alive, and every inch of my flesh crackles and dances, my bound humming with sensual awareness.
“You think I’ve only planned to tie you up and collar you?” he asks, sounding almost disappointed. “You underestimate my capacity for sadism. I will strip you down and reduce you to a weeping, desperate mess. And then I’ll torment you some more, just because it pleases me to hear you whimper and whine.”
Before I can issue a terse retort, the collar encircles my throat, and he draws it tight enough to make me choke. He holds the tension for several long seconds, until my blood pounds in my ears. Only when my body begins to soften does he ease the bite of the supple leather. His fingers are gentle and tender as he buckles it into place and secures it with the small, rose gold padlock.
He traces the line of the collar around my neck. My nerves jump beneath his featherlight touch. The first traitorous shiver races over my body, and my cheeks flame.
Something silver glints in his hand: a pair of blunt-tipped shears.
“No knives for you today,” he says, as though it’s a kindness. “You’re especially feisty, and I don’t want to accidentally cut my pretty plaything. Every ounce of pain I deliver will be deliberate and by my design, not because of your pitiful struggles.”
I jerk against the restraints and release a growl of pure frustration when the rope tightens around my wrists and ankles. I’m just as helpless as he said, but I’m not ready to surrender.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “I like this dress.”
“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a dozen more.”
“I don’t want another one. I want this one.”
He shakes his head. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to be so willful and disrespectful.”
Another rough, animal sound grates between my clenched teeth as he slips the shears beneath the hem of my dress. The thin cotton parts easily. The blades are sharp, but the blunted design ensures that he won’t slip and cut my skin. I can’t suppress another shiver as the cold blade slides up the length of my spine, slowly robbing me of any sense of dignity.
He snips the spaghetti straps, and the dress pools around me on the carpet. My back is completely bared to him, the scrap of my pale pink thong a mockery of modesty.
He takes a few indulgent minutes to trail his fingers down my back, stroking me in a slow, tingling slide that’s subversively calming.
I stiffen. I’m not his pet. I will not melt for this tender treatment.
His gentle fingers reach the base of my spine, and he takes a moment to tease me there, stimulating a sensitive patch of nerves I didn’t know I had. With every slow circle, it feels as though he’s circling my clit instead. The hard bud pulses madly, and I can’t help wriggling in my bonds.
I’m not sure if I’m trying to evade his sensual torment or stimulate myself against the plush carpet.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he rumbles.
“No.” My refusal is a husky groan, an obvious lie.
“No,” he agrees. “You don’t deserve such mercy.”
His touch shifts suddenly, and his fingers sink into my ass to part my cheeks. I’m terribly exposed, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him when he squeezes a drop of cool lubricant onto my asshole.
I can’t help closing my eyes, as though I can hide from what he’s about to do to me. He knows exactly how to devastate me, how to make me feel achingly vulnerable and small in his ruthless hands.
“Open your eyes,” he commands. “I want you to see what I’m going to do to you.”
Unease makes my stomach flip, a giddy sensation like riding a rollercoaster.
I open my eyes, and it takes me a moment to process what I’m looking at. Even when I take in the shape of the silver hook, I can’t make sense of it. One end is round and blunt, and the metal is about an inch in circumference. The other end is shaped in a loop, and he’s tied a length of rope through it. The whole thing is a bit bigger than his massive hand.
“What is that?” I ask, voice hitching slightly.
But I already know. I shake my head in wild refusal.
“Hush now, pet,” he soothes. “You’ll be much calmer in a few minutes.”
“Dane, no,” I whisper, and it’s a plea.
“Master,” he corrects me. “You’ll love your new leash.”
