He watched me from the bed, and this time—deliberately—I let him.
In the past, I had always stolen his sight first, bound his wrists and draped silk across his eyes before anything else began. But tonight I had decided to change the rules. The unexpected, I’d learned, often arrived at the most unusual moments.
I wore my favorite piece: white and black stripes like a zebra’s hide, trimmed in midnight lace. A study in contrasts—light and shadow, innocence and intent. My body responded to the air, the anticipation, the weight of his gaze. I could feel the silk catching on peaks that had grown insistent, defiant even, pressing against their delicate prison.
His eyes followed every movement. I knew where they lingered.
I lit candles scattered throughout the room—small flames that flickered with each rotation of the ceiling fan overhead. The air needed to move; things were going to get warm, and I didn’t want anything melting before I was ready.
One candle found its place on the low table beside him. I leaned over slowly, letting gravity pull fabric away from skin, offering him a view that bordered on mercy. My lips brushed his mouth—barely, briefly—and when his tongue sought mine, I pulled back.
“Not yet, my love.”
I sat beside him on the bed. His body, bare and bound, was entirely vulnerable to me. There was nothing he could do to resist my intentions, my curiosity, the slow unfolding of my desire. My eyes drifted downward, lingering over smooth skin I had carefully prepared earlier. I watched the evidence of his arousal build without a single touch from me.
“I see someone is anticipating something,” I murmured, unable to hide my smile.
He tested the restraints. I had tied them tighter than usual tonight—just enough that nothing would give way.
I reached out with deliberate slowness, letting one crimson-painted nail find the sensitive peak of his chest. I knew he felt everything there, just as I did. I circled, teased, watched it tighten further beneath my attention. Then I squeezed—lightly at first, then harder. His gasp told me everything.
I flicked quickly, back and forth, until he squirmed beneath me. Then I leaned down and replaced my fingers with my tongue, letting warmth and wetness take over. When I pulled back, both of us glistened. I paused, blew softly across damp skin, and felt him jerk in response.
Then I did the unexpected.
I reached for the candle and tipped it slowly above him. One drop of melted wax fell through the space between us and landed with a small sound of contact. He gasped—surprise more than pain—as heat bloomed and cooled in seconds.
I set the candle down, leaned over, and took the tender place into my mouth once more while my fingers worked the cooled wax free. Then I gave equal attention to the other side.
Finally, I stood and knelt between his legs.
For several long moments, I simply looked at him. He looked back. I knew he was wondering what would come next.
I raised my hands and let the straps of my garment slide from my shoulders. The fabric caught briefly on stiffened points before falling entirely, baring me to his gaze. I shifted, shaking my hair back, knowing the movement would make everything sway and bounce in ways that heightened the tension between us.
I reached out and touched the small indentation of his navel, circling it with one finger before dipping inside to tease. Slowly, I dragged my hand lower, over smooth skin, curving to the right and down along his thigh. When I reached his knee, I let my touch move to the sensitive inside and dragged my nails back upward. His groan was involuntary.
At the top of his inner thigh, I cupped him gently in my palm. I held without movement, waiting. He shifted his hips—he couldn’t help it. I squeezed firmly, letting my fingers explore the smoothness there, massaging with unhurried intention.
Then I grasped him at the base. Again, I simply held—gentle, light, soft. Slowly, I stroked upward. Velvety skin moved easily over rigid heat. As my hand reached the tip, my other began the same sensual journey. I stroked him until he began to glisten.
I smiled, leaned down, and tasted him lightly before taking him into my mouth. I applied gentle pressure a few times, then pulled away.
I leaned back again, watching. Just watching him watch me.
I reached down between my own thighs. We both heard the snaps give way—the sound unusually loud in the darkened room. My hand moved lower. I stroked over my own smoothness, found my wetness with one fingertip, then leaned forward and let my chest brush against his hardness. He jumped at the contact.
I brought my finger to his mouth. He opened eagerly, accepting what I offered, drawing it in long past the moment when my essence had disappeared. I pulled free and dragged that same finger down his neck, around the place I had kissed earlier, teasing.
Then I reached behind me.
His eyes widened as I revealed my creation: a two-foot cascade of white and black silk ribbons intertwined with golden cord. Before he could speak, I let it fall across his chest. He groaned—not in pain but in passionate recognition. I drew back and struck again, this time with slightly more force.
I paused, wrapped the silken strands around his arousal, and pulled slowly. They unwound like a spell breaking. I moved back and used the ribbons on his thighs—several measured strikes. He moaned with each one, sounds that held no complaint.
I climbed off the bed. The time had come.
I untied his hands. He looked at me, surprised.
“You are mine tonight,” I told him. “You must do exactly as I command. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Turn over. I want to see you present yourself. You have been testing me.”
“Yes.”
He turned and offered me the sight I’d requested, raising himself as I instructed. I moved to the foot of the bed.
I surprised even myself—I raised the ribbons and struck him firmly. Then again. And again. My strokes grew firmer, faster, as passion built between us. I heard his moans of desire and reached down to grasp him, stroking hard and fast as the ribbons fell in rhythm. He gasped and surrendered completely, collapsing to the bed.
I leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to smooth skin. He fell to his side, breathing hard, and I moved up to join him.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too,” he managed, still catching his breath.
He kissed me gently and held me close.
“Tomorrow night,” he murmured against my hair, “you belong to me.”
