Page 17 of Taken in the Tree Farm
Naked. Bound.Mine.
She's fucking magnificent.
"Come here," I command, crooking a finger at her.
She crawls across the bed toward me, and I track every movement. The way her breasts sway with each motion. The way her thighs press together, trying to hide how wet she is. The way those intelligent eyes watch me warily.
Smart girl. She should be wary.
When she's close enough, I reach out and cup her face, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She's trembling—from cold, from nerves, from desire—and I want to memorize this moment. Her like this, caught between fear and need, ready for me to do exactly what I've been fantasizing about for months.
"You look perfect," I tell her honestly. "Absolutely fucking perfect."
I release her face and pick up the Christmas lights, letting them pulse red and white in my hands. Her eyes track the movement, and I see her throat work as she swallows hard.
"These lights are special," I explain, running them through my fingers. "They won't burn you, but they will look stunning wrapped around your skin."
She looks like she wants to argue, but before she can, I'm moving.
I grab her bound wrists and bring them together, looping the lights around the velvet rope that's already there. The red and white bulbs glow against her skin as I wrap them carefully, creating an elaborate pattern that makes her glow. Each loop is deliberate and tested for security without cutting off too much circulation.
"These are as good as rope," I explain as I work. "But they look so much prettier. Don't you think?"
She doesn't answer, just watches as I bind her wrists more thoroughly. The lights pulse with her heartbeat, making her look like she's glowing from within.
Perfect.
I guide her arms over her head and secure them to the headboard using a length of lights I'd already prepared. Now she's stretched out before me, arms raised, breasts thrust forward, completely exposed.
"How does that feel?" I ask.
"Tight." She tests the restraints, pulling slightly. They don't give. "I can't move."
"That's the point, sugarplum." I trail my fingers down her upstretched arm, over her armpit, along the side of her breast. She shivers, arching involuntarily into the touch. "I want you helpless. I want to see you unable to do anything butfeel."
I pick up more lights and begin winding them around her body. Starting at her collarbone, wrapping them loosely across her chest, between her breasts, creating patterns that make her look like a work of art. Every few inches, I pause to test the temperature of the bulbs against my own skin.
The lights wind lower, around her ribs, her waist. I position them carefully, making sure they frame her breasts without actually touching her nipples. Those are for my mouth.
She's panting now, watching me work with wide eyes. Every time my fingers brush her skin, she jumps slightly. Every time I tug on the knots, she whimpers.
I pick up another strand and move to her throat.
This is the part I've been waiting for.
"This goes here," I murmur, looping the lights around her neck like a collar. Not too tight, but present. Areminder. A symbol of control.
Her breath catches, and I see panic flash in her eyes.
"Breathe," I command gently. "I've got you. This won't hurt you."
I wrap the lights carefully, making sure they sit against her throat without pressure. Then I take the end and hold it in my hand, giving it the slightest tug.
The lights tighten fractionally against her neck. Not enough to choke, just enough tofeel. Just enough to remind her that I control her breathing now.
"Oh god," she gasps, and I see the moment it hits her. The moment she understands what I'm planning to do.
"That's it," I encourage, loosening the lights immediately. "Feel how good it is to give me control."
