Page 53 of Binding Their Hearts

His cock, well on its way to fully hard, bobbed at eye level. His abs pulsed in and out with his speedy breaths, the tiniest hint of a whine coming from him as he tried his damnedest to follow Henry’s orders to stay still, lest the skin-tight outfit tear before they got it on him. Probably didn’t help that he stood on a small platform elevated a good foot off the floor, in a taped-off square along one wall of the grand hall.

They’d wolfed down a cold dinner, Henry’s version of a pre-play charcuterie board, while standing around the breakfast bar before he’d whisked them off to the club’s Halloween party. Their real dinner would be at home, afterward—right around the time the party would be hitting its stride. But now it made sense that they’d checked in at the front desk by seven thirty. Putting on Jay’s costume would take half the night.

No, that wasn’t fair. She should be teasing and praising Jay the way Henry was, his voice a continuous low rumble beneath the ambient music and the admiring exclamations from people passing by as they set up stations or waited for friends. She should be aroused and confident and loose and liquid and a hundred other adjectives perfect for a woman at a party with her lovers on a Friday night. Not one of the wonderful words matched her actual experience of running her hands up Jay’s thigh while wondering if she’d sent the weekly status update to the project manager or just imagined she had. Worrying about whether Jay had felt slighted when she’d canceled lunch on him at the last minute Tuesday. Panicking that Henry would notice her distraction—he would, he noticed everything—and be disappointed with her effort tonight. How could it be so damn hard to just enjoy herself?

Relax, she willed her muscles. They insisted on the opposite, and she carefully lifted her left foot to press all her weight on the cramping right toes trying to drive her mad. I’m having a great time. This will be a fantastic night.

The affirmation things Jay had talked about from therapy would probably work better if her mental voice didn’t come doused in sarcasm verging on mutiny.

Her fingers ran out of fabric. What the—

“Oh my, yes. That will do quite nicely, my boy.” Henry stepped back, admiring.

Alice scrambled to follow, biting back a wince as the toe cramp flared again. “You look incredible, stud. This is gonna be magnificent.”

Did her praise sound hollow, or just to her ears? It wasn’t a lie—the skeletal image painted on the latex gave Jay dips and definition that didn’t exist, tricks of the light and shading so he seemed to disappear while being completely exposed. Latex outlined his stiff cock, hugged tight against his stomach, the flared ridge below the head obvious even in the room’s hazy mood lighting.

The sleeveless latex top went on next, with its painted rib cage and collarbones and shoulder blades. Henry would paint the rest now—arms, neck, and face—which he announced would take an hour or less, assuming all went smoothly. Painting Jay from head to toe would’ve consumed the whole night.

No longer needed, she stood inside the corner of the tape boundary—painter’s tape laid down on the floor in neat lines, sectioning off ad hoc play stations anyone could temporarily claim. Two boxes down, someone had spread a floor mat and was midway through…something? They could’ve been auditioning for one of those acrobat circus shows if they had any clothes on. Their flexibility was impressive. Balancing on their hands, they folded over into a back bend, swayed forward and back, and kicked back into hand walking. The direction ran contrary to how the human body wanted to move, but the stable platform and careful use of momentum—stop thinking about work. Just stop.

Henry had given one hundred percent of his attention to Jay, laying down a shadowy base coat, but Jay stood with his head cocked, his bright smile twitching as he watched her. He was her dancing skeleton tonight. She was supposed to be the necromancer who’d raised him to be her plaything. Her black dress of gauzy scarves swirled over the mid-thigh bodysuit Henry had insisted on underneath, for reasons as yet unvoiced. A velvety choker with a festive pattern of skulls encircled her neck. Henry, as her demonic patron, the one who granted her the power to raise the dead, wore a formal suit, black on black. He’d shed the coat and the shirt to paint, though. Normally she’d be aching to run her hands all over his bare chest.

She steepled her fingers and rubbed them together in the universal sign for evil genius, raising an eyebrow and returning Jay’s stare. “Oh, the things I’ll do to you, my pet.”

Her mind conjured not a single thing. But Jay made a kissy face, and she mirrored it. Fake it till you make it, wasn’t that what they said?

A splash of color stepped up at her left, just outside the boundary of their space. Leah stood in silence, her hands tucked behind her back, her bubblegum goth ensemble a riot of bold pink on black, her hair in pigtail braids. Caught up in studying the outfit, Alice only belatedly remembered she was technically a dominant. Of course Leah would treat her like one: only a flicker of eye contact, not spoken until spoken to, and not interrupting the scene inside the tape.

Alice took a step outside and mustered her cheeriest voice. “You look absolutely adorable. Master Drew isn’t with you?”

“Over there.” Leah pointed toward her dominant, deep in conversation with another man. “I saw you and got permission to come say hi, since we don’t have a lesson tomorrow and I have the best thing to tell you.”

“The best, huh?” Cradling her chin in her hand, Alice tapped her index finger against her lips. “Hmm.” Her peripheral caught Leah’s impatience to tell her, the swaying and fidgeting. “Is it…” No wonder Henry spoke so slowly and deliberately in their scenes. Creating an aura of dominance started with controlling the smallest pieces, and pacing was integral to mood and tone. She’d have to practice that during room checks with Jay. “Ice cream torture?”

“Brrrr, no!” Leah wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in horror. “I did the thing like we practiced. Firm tone, no negotiating, no giving in to keep the peace, no taking on work that isn’t mine or letting myself get guilted into it.”

“And?” She could guess, from the huge grin breaking over Leah’s face, but delivering good news could be so satisfying. She wouldn’t step on the younger woman’s success. “How did it go?”

Shy little Leah thrust her arms into the air and spun in a circle. Her pink-and-black plaid skirt flared out as she stomped her chunky boots. “I’m not writing my roommate’s history paper. Or her comparative religions paper. And she’s going to pay me to edit them with her so she gets better.”

Once the spinning stopped, Alice gave her nearly noiseless applause. A quick glance showed their talk hadn’t distracted Henry from his work, and Jay stood with his eyes closed as the round brush moved in swift circular swipes across his face. “That’s fantastic, Leah—I’m so proud of all the work you’ve done to stand up for yourself. I’m sure Master Drew is, too.”

“I’m getting a reward spanking in public tonight,” Leah whispered, her cheeks pinking to match her babydoll tee. “I had to try your advice sometime, and next week is our last session, so I figured I’d better talk to her this week in case I failed and needed a new strategy.”

“But you succeeded wonderfully. You put your foot down and took charge of a situation that wasn’t working for you.” Notifications flashing on her screen all day long. Mandatory meetings with no purpose or connection to her project work appearing on her calendar. Sloppy work she fixed herself instead of kicking back, so as not to upset the delicate balance of being the temporary boss for her coworkers. “Fuck.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I just realized something I forgot to do.” Or had been avoiding doing for weeks. Flying under the radar she could ace. Rocking the boat, not so much. “But you, Leah the Strong, wielder of the all-important no, have a reward waiting. Thank you for sharing the good news in person. I’m so happy for you.”

Leah added another twirl before dashing off, bravely weaving her way toward her dominant, her yellow club ribbon in a neat bow around her upper arm. The room had grown more crowded, small knots of people becoming clusters, some of those clusters migrating toward the displays—which currently included Jay, rapt under Henry’s touch, a headband keeping his hair clear of the highlights Henry dabbed above his cheekbones.

“Wow.”

“He’s gorgeous. Spooky, but gorgeous.”

“Love the layering detail.”

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