Page 74 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Thank you.” He wrapped the padded leather around her wrist. He’d wanted to use rope—it had been clear during the demo that she loved the feel of it against her skin—but he’d been afraid she’d be too wiggly, too resistant to get it on her safely.

Delighted that the threat of electricity applied to her pussy was so effective, he ran a finger under the edge of the cuff, making sure it wasn’t too tight. Satisfied, he positioned her arm so her elbow was bent, her hand up by her head. Pleased with the position—she’d be able to move, but not enough to hit him—he ran a length of rope through the D-ring and tied it off to the leg of the ottoman.

“Right hand, please,” he asked, and she silently slid it out from under her back and laid it in his waiting palm.

He applied the second cuff, positioned her hand so it mirrored her left, and tied it off. With both arms secure, he eased back, one knee planted on the ottoman.

She immediately gave her bonds a yank, making him smile. She didn’t look panicked or particularly scared, though wariness gleamed in her gaze as she tested her range of motion. She gave a second, harder yank, making her breasts wobble, and he dropped his gaze to her chest. Her upper chest was as flushed as her face, and her nipples were bright red.

Part of that was from dragging her out from under the bed. Her breasts, belly and thighs were abraded from the rug, the scrapes bright red against her fair, freckled skin. They weren’t bad enough to require immediate attention, and he made a note to apply some aloe later. For now, though…

He traced a finger around one puffy, reddened areola, pleased when it tightened at his touch. He did the same to the other, with the same results, and she squirmed.

He raised his gaze to her face. Her eyes had darkened, and the flush on her cheeks and chest had deepened. He lifted a hand to her face, wanting to feel the heat there, and she turned her cheek into his hand with a little mew of contentment even as she yanked against the ropes again.

Amused at the contradiction, he chuckled and leaned down for another kiss, lingering over it. Her mouth was soft under his, and hesitant at first, but when he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, she opened her mouth for him eagerly.

When he drew back, she tried to follow, her eyes half closed and dazed, only to come up short against the cuffs on her wrists. His amusement deepened when the soft, sexy expression she wore immediately morphed into a frown.

“My back hurts,” she complained, and he wondered if she knew how close she was to pouting. “Can I bring my knees up?”

He straightened, keeping his knee planted on the ottoman next to her hip, and considered. The position she was in—flat on her back with her feet on the floor—would put strain on her lower back, and he liked that she’d asked for permission. But the request lacked something.

“Can I bring my knees up, what?”

She blinked at him, confused. Then her expression cleared, and she gave a little laugh. “Can I bring my knees up, Boss?”

He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Boss?”

“Sir is boring,” she told him, a sparkle in her eye that told him she wasn’t quite ready to surrender yet.

“Wouldn’t want you to be bored,” he drawled and watched the gleam in her eye turn wary. “Put your feet up on the ottoman.”

She obeyed, her eyes locked on his, and he saw relief shimmer across her face as the pressure on her back eased. “Thank you.”

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, Boss,” she parroted, and smirked.

“You’re welcome, brat,” he countered and, sliding into a crouch, began to unwrap the rope from around her ankles.

She sighed. “Oh, that feels nice.”

“Was it too tight?” he asked, running a hand around the marks the rope had left behind. They weren’t deep, and though some spots were red from the friction induced when she’d shuffled her way across the room, they weren’t any worse than the rug burn on her thighs.

“No.” She flexed her feet, making the candy-apple-red polish on her toes gleam. “But it always feels good when it comes off, you know?”

He lifted her right foot so it rested on his chest and reached for another length of rope. “Hmmm.”

“You’re not going to start that again, are you?”

He did a quick loop around her ankle, tied it off, and slowly pushed her foot back until her heel met her thigh. Pleased with her flexibility, he drew the end of the rope around the top of her thigh. “Start what again?”

“The ‘hmmming’,” she said, flexing her foot.

“Be still,” he admonished and to drive the point home, flipped the zapper out of his back pocket and gave her a quick jolt.

She jerked, her high-pitched squeal echoing around the room. “God, that thing is evil.”

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