Page 11 of First Time

I cleared my throat and addressed the group watching us. “Now, create a loop then pass the rope over and underneath. Once again through the loop—then tighten.”

Becky lowered her head so her shoulder-length hair shielded her face from the audience as I continued with the same demonstration, tying her other wrist in the same way

Was it embarrassment that caused her to hide? Shame?

“Okay, Becky?” I murmured, wanting to tilt her chin up to better check in with her. I refrained but only because of the stare I could feel on the side of my face.

“Yes, Sir,” Becky murmured.

I exhaled slowly, refocusing on my task, thankful my cock eased up in attempting to break free from my leathers and simply ached inside its prison. “The lead rope can then be attached to whatever you wish, even another part of the body.” Moving to the side, I glanced over the group. “Subs, lift your arms so I can see the beauty your Doms have wrapped your wrists in.” I paused, giving the group a quick perusal, noting Stephen peered at me with an arrogant smirk rather than heated rage over the fact I sported a raging boner. Thank fuck. “Well done, all of you. Moving on...”

The minutes passed too quickly.

I wanted to soak in the feel of Becky’s skin while showing various bondage basics, intentionally brushing my fingertips over her more often than necessary. When I had her stand so I could demonstrate a chest harness, she moved with liquid grace when I’d expected stilted unease.

“You’re doing so well, Becky,” I whispered for her ears alone.

She shivered at the words of praise, making me wish I could rain down similar sentiments by the bucketload.

Taking care to avoid her heavy breasts, I circled her ribs several times, tying knots as needed.

Becky seemed to be in tune with my touch, taking cues from my light touches to turn her as I explained my work to those watching guests. She was a beautiful piece of art. Supple flesh. Hemp ropes. Submissive hunger.

“Are you all right, Becky?” I asked again to check in.

“Mmm,” she murmured as though time had lost its meaning and she wanted nothing more than to float on air.

Fuck, did I want to give her that—to make her fly where nothing but peace and pleasure resided.

“Why don’t the submissive partners sit down on their chairs,” I said, a hand on Becky’s shoulder, “and I’ll walk you all through an example of sexual bondage.”

Becky sank onto her seat, her legs parting slightly to offer me a glance between her thighs. Wetness smeared on her plump lower lips.

Lust rocketed through me, stringing my balls up tight to my groin.

No woman had ever instilled such an instant need inside me. Desperate desire to sink deep into her warmth and bring her to release warred with my control.

She isn’t mine.

Her pussy was off-limits.

Stephen watched.

Slowing my inhales and focusing on those truths, I once more knelt before Becky, a length of rope in hand.

Her lips parted as she panted for breath.

I swallowed down a groan and the need to squeeze my junk. “Will the fact you’re turned on make your husband angry?” I couldn’t help but whisper, my lips barely moving.

“He’s not my husband,” she was quick to point out, which made my heartbeat race, “but…maybe? I don’t…I don’t know.”

My focus flitted to one of the faded bruises on her left cheekbone, thrilled as fuck to learn she wasn’t as off-limits as I’d thought. “Should we end the demonstration?”

“No.” The word flew from her lips, her gaze finally lifting to mine.

My breath left in a rush as a sense of…something strange, dizzying, passed between us. Potent didn’t begin to describe the longing, the magnetic pull, to bury myself inside her. Make her mine.

“Please don’t stop,” she begged.

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