Classical music played softly through hidden speakers. She was frozen in place as she watched Paolo gracefully cross the room. The room wasn’t dark and gray like a dungeon, but had cream-colored walls, a perfect backdrop for the many lengths of rope and chains hanging from rows of hooks. There were whips and floggers hanging there too. Rings in the ceiling and floor. On the walls. She silently watched him lift some white rope from a hook on the wall.
He turned to look at her. She hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Please close the door and remove your clothes.”
Panic shot through her veins. “Now?”
He frowned. “Yes. Now.”
The door slammed shut as she leaned back against it. Her heart thudded beneath her ribs. She’d imagined so often the being-naked part, the already-being-tied-up part. Why was this step so hard to take? She realized it was probably because she had to do this part herself. She still had her control. He was making her prove to him that this was her choice.
“Julianne?”
He still stood by the wall, running a length of rope through his fingers. He wasn’t smiling now.
“Yeah, okay.” She pushed away from the door and started toward him. He straightened his shoulders and stared at her. She realized that for the moment, she had Paolo’s full attention. She slowed her steps as she crossed the room, swayed her hips as much as she dared. She still had a choice, still had control. He might soon be leaving her to someone else, but she had him right here, right now. She could tear her clothes off quickly, or she could slowly strip. For him.
She ran her tongue nervously over her lips and gradually lowered the side zipper on her skirt. The skirt slid down, revealing her navel before it stopped at the top of her panties. His gaze followed the drop of her skirt then jumped up to meet hers when the skirt didn’t fall any farther.
She should have worn more layers. This was going to happen way too fast. She held his heated gaze as she grasped the bottom of her sweater with both hands and, little by little, raised it until her breasts sprang free. Did he just choke back a moan? She hid a smile as she kept going, slowly raising her arms until the sweater was over her head. Then she pulled her arms free and tossed the top away.
Her heart was racing as she took another step closer to Paolo. He hadn’t moved. His hands still gripped the rope. She shimmied her hips as she lowered the skirt. It slid quickly down her legs and she stepped out of it. One step closer and he was within her reach.
Now to get out of these shoes. She put her hand on his firm shoulder for support. She could feel the heat of his body through the white button-down shirt. She raised her foot so she could reach the strap.
“Leave the shoes.” His voice sounded a lot rougher than it had a few minutes ago.
She slowly lowered her foot and reluctantly dropped her hand from his shoulder. “Okay.” She stood before him, waiting. He appeared to be waiting too. For what, she didn’t know.
He swallowed and frowned. His gaze flicked down to her hips and back up again. “That scrap of lace, Julianne.”
“Oh, right.” She hoped she sounded nonchalant, but her hands trembled again. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the damp black thong and slid it over her hips. She let the panties drop to the floor and kicked them away. Now she stood before him, completely naked except for her shoes. She could smell the musky scent of her arousal. Could he sense it too?
“You like to play games.” He grasped her wrist and roughly pulled her over to the chair. “You can’t even follow a simple command without making it a game.”
Didn’t he realize it was a last-ditch attempt to try to maintain some kind of control? “But this is a playroom, isn’t it?” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you called it in your advertisement?”
He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Perhaps I was too hasty in forbidding gags.”
She gasped, but then saw the amusement in his eyes.
“Sit down,” he commanded.
This was it. He released her wrist and she dropped onto the hard seat of the chair. The surface was cold against her bare skin. It didn’t look like a piece of bondage equipment at all. It was more like a chair she’d see at someone’s kitchen table. Armless, wooden, slats across the back and between the four legs.
Paolo knelt down beside her. The rope in his hand brushed against her leg. He was so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Suddenly she didn’t want to watch what he was going to do. Even though she loved looking into his beautiful face, she turned her head away. Maybe he’d blindfold her first. But he gently cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face around to meet his gaze.
“Are you all right?” he asked. She could drown in those blue eyes.
She swallowed. “I’m fine.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No!”
He narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t believe her.
“I’m just a bit nervous,” she admitted. “I don’t know what to expect.”
“The rest is easy, Julianne,” he said softly. He released his hold on her chin and dropped his hand to her arm. He ran his fingers along her skin until he reached her wrist. Delightful shivers followed his path. He began to wind soft rope around her wrist. “From now on you only have to do as you’re told.” He pulled her arm behind the chair and wrapped the rope around one of the posts. “From now on you only have to feel.”
His hard body pressed into hers as he reached for her other wrist and bound it behind the chair in the same way. She took a deep breath and let it out on a shaky sigh. She took in his clean scent, like soap and fresh air. Just when she thought maybe she could relax, he placed his hands on her knees. He smiled as he slid his hands up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Her pussy clenched even though he didn’t get quite close enough to touch her there.
Then he firmly pushed her legs apart. She watched a wavy lock of his silky hair fall over his forehead when he leaned over to tie her ankles to the outside of the chair legs.
Her thighs were spread wide, open to the air and to Paolo’s dark gaze. He didn’t stare for long, though. Without a word, he stood and turned away from her, crossing the room and opening a drawer in a cabinet she hadn’t noticed before. What kind of bondage gear was held in those drawers? He turned back to her with a blindfold in his hands. He stared at her for a moment from across the room, and if the bulge in his black trousers was any clue, he was as aroused as she was.
She squirmed in the seat from the sight of him standing there, fully clothed, while she was as exposed as she could be. Helpless, really, waiting to be blindfolded as well. She’d never been so aroused in her life. Yet she was disappointed that as soon as he made her helplessness complete, he would be leaving her to someone else.
“Do all your clients get such personal attention from the owner?” She didn’t expect the question to sound so sarcastic. She was more on edge than she thought.
He shook his head and approached quickly, turning the blindfold over and over in his hands. He knelt down beside her again and leaned forward to place the blindfold over her head. She tried to memorize his face, as much as she could in that brief moment when she feared she’d never see him again. Did she dare think he was caressing her with his gaze for the same reason?
“Easy,” he murmured. Complete darkness enveloped her. As if he was aware of the quick burst of panic that would shoot through her system, he brushed his cheek against hers and softly kissed her neck.
“I think you are very brave,” he told her, his breath soft against her ear. He touched her cheek and she couldn’t stop from leaning in to his hand. It was exactly like her dream, when his voice and touch had aroused her in the darkness. “Remember,” he continued, “if you want to stop the play at anytime, just say so and it will end.”
“Do I need a…a safe word?” she asked.
He pressed a finger to her lips. “A simple ‘stop’ is all that will be necessary.”
Then he moved away. His voi
ce was louder then as he said, “You need to remember from now on to keep your mouth closed unless you’re commanded to open it. Most likely for something other than speaking.” He didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t hear him move away.
She felt so alone in the quiet darkness. “What do I do now?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Now you wait for your Master.”
Chapter Two
She heard his footsteps move away from her and then the door opened. And then it closed with a quiet click. She was left alone, tied to a chair in the middle of a playroom, offering her body for someone else’s enjoyment.
And hopefully her own.
This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? An anonymous, erotic encounter. A one-time experience with bondage. She was there to live out her deepest fantasy. It didn’t matter with whom.
At least it hadn’t before.
She pushed the image of deep blue eyes and dark wavy hair out of her mind and concentrated on the sensations of the moment. She was tied tight, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not yet. She felt vulnerable, helpless. And so aroused she could feel moisture trickling from her core.
The air felt different now, softer, almost like the drag of fingers over her skin. She could barely hear the soft music over the blood pulsing though her veins. Her nipples beaded with anticipation. Her heart skipped in her chest. Her pussy clenched.
And she waited. And waited.
She discovered she didn’t like to wait.
She was used to taking matters into her own hands, whether it was a decorating job or her own satisfaction. But to wait for the unknown. To anticipate the best. To agonize about the worst. She didn’t like it one bit.
There wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, and perhaps that was the lesson she was supposed to learn. Let go. Don’t worry. Wait and see. Everything was out of her control anyway.
She was here to be someone’s plaything. Someone who would be coming to this room to play out his fantasy as well. She had to remember that.
As she sat there and waited, her heartbeat slowed to something close to normal. She relaxed into the chair and closed her eyes. Let go. Don’t worry. Wait and see. The words repeated in her head. She might have even dozed off in the darkness that surrounded her.
Then she heard the click of the door opening. The door closing. Footsteps nearing. Her poor heart kicked up into high gear again. She straightened as best she could, sitting tall and proud. She wanted to please whoever it was Paolo had entrusted her to tonight. She licked her lips and attempted a shaky smile.
He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t moved since the footsteps stopped. He wore some exotic scent that tickled her nostrils. Who was he? What did he look like? Why didn’t he have his own bondage toy to play with? Was he someone like her, someone who hadn’t been able to find a willing partner?
He was so quiet. He had to have been looking her over. Checking her out. Perhaps he was trying to decide what the first thing was he was going to do to her. Oh God, what was he going to do to her?
Her breathing began to come faster, harder. Panic scrambled in her chest. Maybe she couldn’t do this after all.
“Shh.” He brushed his hand gently down her cheek, through her hair, across her shoulder. And then again. “Shhh.” The soft strokes calmed her and she felt foolish for panicking. Paolo had promised she would be safe with this man. And while she might not know this man enough to trust him yet, she trusted Paolo. She believed him.
She nodded slowly, not daring to speak after Paolo’s warning. The man, her Master, began to lengthen his strokes. Without her sight, she seemed to experience every sensation more strongly. His hands were large and warm, the tips of his long fingers slightly calloused. She relaxed a little as he continued to caress her arms, her neck and shoulders. He lightly brushed his fingers along her breasts. Her body warmed under his hands. Shivery tingles ran along her skin.
Then she felt his lips, first soft on her jaw before they moved down her throat. He knelt between her wide-spread knees, the soft fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs. His hands grasped her shoulders as his mouth moved lower, and lower still, until he captured one of her pebbled nipples between his lips.
Sparks prickled her nipples and shot straight between her legs. He suckled gently, laving the sensitive tip with his tongue. She gasped and arched her back as much as she could, shoving her breast closer to him. “More,” she wanted to yell. “Suck harder.” But she kept her silence, except for the soft moan she wasn’t able to hold back when he abruptly released the nipple.
He moved lower still, sweeping his lips down her abdomen and along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She trembled as his fingers slid between her legs, playing with her folds, plucking the tender flesh and spreading her cream. Her clit began to throb, but he didn’t come close to touching it. Then his mouth was there and her breath caught as his hot, wet tongue swept along the length of her pussy. Incredible. Her breath came faster again, but not from fear this time. She wanted more. Needed more. She lifted her hips as much as she could, pushing against his mouth.
He pulled away and she whimpered with frustration, her pussy pulsing with need. She felt him stand and then she heard the rasp of a zipper being lowered. Was he undressing, or simply releasing the only part of his anatomy that mattered at the moment? He moved between her legs right away and she could still feel fabric against her thighs so she got the answer to that question. His musky male scent wrapped around her.
She felt the sharp tap of his cock on her cheek. She was still mourning the loss of his mouth between her legs, so she must have been too slow in responding. The next thing she knew, he grabbed her chin and pulled down, rubbing his hard cock against her lips.
She opened her mouth and he plunged past her lips, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She gagged and he let up slightly, but didn’t pull out. He drove his hands into her hair and grasped on to each side of her head. Then he began to fuck her mouth in long, hard strokes. She couldn’t move her head. He did all the moving, thrusting as deep as he wanted to, deeper than she’d ever taken a man before.
Now, for the first time, she truly felt like a plaything. She was simply an object to be used by this man, a toy to be played with. Tears prickled her eyes. She was scared and excited at the same time. She tried to relax her throat, to take him in as he wanted her to, but she couldn’t stop coughing and gagging when he went too deep.
He sighed and pulled out of her mouth. She immediately missed the taste of him, the weight of him on her tongue, and she blindly moved her head to try to find him. He grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back. She cried out in pain and frustration.
“What do you want from me? Can’t you talk, damn it?” She’d probably be punished for speaking out like that. She’d read about discipline and punishment, but she didn’t care right now. Her tears dampened her face behind the blindfold. “How can I do what I’m told if you don’t tell me what to do?”
“Shhh.” He rubbed his cheek gently against hers, brushed his lips along her ear. “Don’t move.” He whispered the words so softly, she could barely hear them. But she remembered and she understood.
When his mouth was on her breast, it had felt so good she had arched her back. And he stopped sucking on her nipple. When his mouth was on her pussy, it had felt so good she’d lifted her hips. And he stepped away. When she moved her head to seek his cock, he grabbed her hair and reacted with anger.
She got it. She was an object. A plaything. Toys didn’t move on their own. Only when their owner wished it.
She quelled the burst of indignation as soon as it surged through her body. She had no right to be upset. This was what she’d signed up for. What she’d agreed to from the very beginning. How could she fully appreciate this experience if she fought against it at every turn?
So far she’d had no luck giving up the need for control. Had she been right all along? Would it be impossible? Couldn’t
she even live out her fantasy right? She’d have to try harder, not just for herself, but for this man who had every right to expect it.
She heard him zip up his pants and walk away from her. Was he still angry? She wished he would speak. But then, boys didn’t talk to their toys, did they?
She heard the slide of a drawer. A thrill of anticipation danced in her stomach. What was he getting out of the cabinet? Something to give her pleasure? Or pain? Could she handle it if he came back with a flogger or a paddle? How about nipple clips or a butt plug?
She knew she was thinking too much. Desire licked her skin like fire. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples tingling. The flesh between her legs was swollen and throbbing. She needed him to come back. Use her. Make her feel. Make her lose control. She’d never been this aroused before. For the first time she thought it might really be possible.
Then he was in front of her again. He stroked her hair gently before pushing the heavy length over one shoulder. Then he wrapped something thick and stiff around her neck, pulling it so tight, she felt it press against her throat when she swallowed. A collar. Something clicked and pulled on the front of the collar, then fell long and cold between her breasts and bounced against her exposed pussy. Oh God, a leash.
She’d been collared and leashed. Shouldn’t that make her feel humiliated? Instead it made her even more aroused. She forced herself to remain still, but her sex throbbed so much she yearned to squirm in her seat to try to relieve the pressure building there. She swallowed again, pleased with the reminder of his hold over her. Surprising herself with the pleasure.
He quickly untied her from the chair and then tugged on the leash to pull her to her feet. She was afraid she would lose her balance in the darkness, but she stumbled along on her high heels as he led her across the smooth floor. When they stopped, he placed his hands on her shoulders, telling her to stay where she was.
He quickly bound her hands in front of her with her palms together then pulled up on the rope, so that her arms rose above her head. He must have attached her wrist binding to a hook or something, because when he stepped away from her, she was suddenly pulled up, her arms stretched toward the ceiling. He kept tugging until she was barely balancing on the toes of her shoes.
Plaything: Paolo's Playhouse, Book 4 Page 2
