But then I’d always wonder. I didn’t want that. I wanted all of Liam, even if he warned me against it. Because the truth of it was, even if he didn’t trust himself, I did. I trusted him completely.
“I do,” I repeated, meeting his eyes. I can’t say I wasn’t scared, but I was sure.
His gaze darkened, not exactly losing the heat of anger but it hardened into something stronger, more determined.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“Then strip.” His voice was so cold, so firm, I stood for a moment almost stunned. “Now,” he commanded.
Shivering with anticipation, I did as I was told. I needed to go through with this, needed to see what he meant, even if it ended in both of us going our separate ways. At least I’d do it with full knowledge.
“Lie down on the bed on your back and wait for me.” He strode out of the apartment. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone or what he’d do when he got back, but I lay down on the bed and waited. I didn’t pull the sheet up over me, didn’t touch myself though I could feel myself growing wet. I lay there without a stitch of clothing feeling so sensitive, aware of every inch of my body. Maybe that was part of it, to get me in a heightened state, where even the whisper of a touch would make me gasp.
He came back after a few more minutes that felt like much longer, and placed a bag on the floor by the bed. Out of it, he withdrew some rope.
“I’m going to tie you up, Sophie. You will not be able to move your arms or your legs. And I’m going to blindfold you. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.”
“If at any time you want me to stop simply say stop. I will release you immediately.” I nodded. “That’s not enough, Sophie. Tell me you understand you can tell me to stop if you want.”
“I’ll tell you to stop if that’s what I want.”
Satisfied, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me roughly up the bed. I watched nervously as he worked, first looping it around the bedpost, then around my wrist. It felt tight but not restricting my circulation. He did the same with my other arm, stretching me out, binding me fast. My chest rose and fell with my panting breath, my nipples already hard with arousal and anticipation.
“Spread your legs,” he growled, grabbing onto one ankle and pulling it down toward the bedpost on the other end. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable as he bound first one ankle, then the next. It was one thing to read about it, and I had enjoyed my share of dark romances on my Kindle late at night. But it was another thing entirely to actually be stripped naked and bound, unable to move arms or legs as a large, powerful, fully clothed man prowled around the edge of the bed surveying you with dark, sexual, predatory intent. I found myself squirming, pulling against the restraints, testing to see if I could maybe wiggle out if I wanted to. I couldn’t.
“You’re bound tight,” he informed me, enjoying my struggle. “I’m the only one who can set you free, Sophie. You can feel that, can’t you?” His voice had velvety promise, and I knew he meant it in more ways than simply untying my restraints.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’m going to blindfold you now.” He pulled out a strip of cloth and walked over to my head. I watched his every movement nervously, anxious about losing my sense of sight. I’d never done that before. And this was to a man who’d just told me he wanted to torture me until I cried. “This is the last time I’ll remind you. You can say stop.”
I nodded, holding his gaze. Then I closed my eyes and let him blindfold me, tying the cloth around me tight.
Enclosed in blackness, unable to move, I felt so aware of every noise. The floor planks that creaked as he moved. His breathing, controlled but heavy enough I could hear it as he circled me as if deciding where to start first.
“You don’t know how many nights I dreamed of having you like this,” he began speaking, and I felt something light, almost ticklish stroking along the outside of my thigh. “How often I dreamed of having complete control over you.” Whatever he had on me, soft and moving like a feather, caressed my skin, the insides of my thighs, my stomach. I arched my back up into it as he circled my breasts, making everywhere he touched tingle.
“Do you know why I wanted control over you, Sophie?” His voice sounded so aggressive, gritty and deep. Whatever he’d been using, soft and caressing, he removed.
“No,” I whispered, frightened by the barely restrained power I could sense in him.
“So I could punish you.”
In a searing clamp, something came down on my nipple. It felt cold and hard and I cried out in surprise and pain.
“What—?”
“No, you don’t get to ask questions,” he scolded me. “You’re the student here. I’m the teacher. And you will take your punishment.”
Whatever he’d clamped down on my nipple he suddenly removed and I felt sweet, slow licking instead, warm and gentle. It lulled me back to relaxation, making me sigh into his touch. Just as I started to moan, down it came again, some kind of a hard clamp right onto my sensitive nipple. I cried out in pain, but didn’t ask for any explanation this time. Now I knew better. He wasn’t going to tell me anything he didn’t want me to know. He’d keep me guessing to establish complete control over me. But it was hard to give that over to him.
This time he kept the clamp on me, pain and pressure shooting through my aroused tip, and at the same time he started loving my other breast, confusing my senses, so gentle on one side, coaxing and sweet, licking and sucking while on the other he enforced brutality.
“Uh!” I grunted as he removed the clamp and sensation rushed back into my nipple, a painful flood that melted into wickedly delightful heat as he engulfed it in his hot mouth.
But then, before I could start to enjoy it, he forced both of my aching nipples into vicelike clamps, twisting them both until I cried out, writhing on the bed, wondering if that was going to be all it took to make me ask him to stop. I felt close to it. It felt frightening, trapped and at his mercy, but then I felt him brush his fingers along my pussy.
Stretched as I was, legs wide apart, I had nowhere to go. Instinct made me want to twist away. This man was hurting me. I should tell him to stop and stay away from me. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t get away from his fingers and they were insistent, starting to stroke, starting to coax a throbbing arousal from my core.
He made a low growl in his throat and I felt a response well up from deep within me, sensing how much I was pleasing him, bound there for his pleasure to do with what he wanted. He must like the sight of me, spread and tied, nipples clamped, and now he could feel my slick arousal coating his fingers as he fingered my pussy.
“You’re wet.” He moved his fingers away from my pussy. Then I felt then at my lips, pushing into my mouth. “Taste how wet you are for me.” I licked and sucked his fingers, eager to show him I’d do what he told me, but he removed them as if not even wanting to give me that ounce of control.
“I can play with you as long as I want,” he murmured, bringing his fingers back down to my pussy. My breasts throbbed, aching pain in the clamps but it blended with the pleasure he created as he stroked my clit, circling, rubbing, slick and rhythmic. Small moans escaped my parted lips, moans of confusion and arousal, the pain and pleasure mingling, making me shake with need.
“That’s it,” he encouraged me, sensing my build up to orgasm. “Let yourself go.” I shuddered, letting my resistance fall away, shutting down my brain that protested over the clamps on my nipples, letting the blindfold help me block out everything but the feel of his fingers on my pussy. The rough movements, the sure way he fucked me, I started gasping, grunting, about to cum.
He pulled his fingers away, leaving me with nothing. I cried out in frustration and bewilderment. Had he thought I’d already cum? He got me so close.
He chuckled, low and pleased. “You don’t get to cum yet, pet.” He blew across my wet, exposed pussy, making me buck my hips. “Not yet. Not until I decide you can.”
When he removed t
he nipple clamps it hurt so much, for an instant, then pleasure rushed in like a wave as he suckled and laved me, the wet heat of his mouth echoing the wet heat of my pussy. I trembled and panted, never so confused with the warring sensations in my body.
And he didn’t stop there. He kept playing with me, tormenting me, down at my pussy with his fingers, his mouth. He knew me so intimately, knew how to set my pulse racing with a simple touch, how to deny me the aching release I needed more and more with each passing minute while still stoking my pleasure.
He stopped using clamps, but he brought over something else at first I couldn’t place. It was hard, smooth and felt like an electric shock. I jumped as he brought it to my skin, wondering if he was actually shocking me.
“Ow!” I cried out, trying to shrink away but I couldn’t. I was bound and blind, no way to know where he was or what he would touch next.