“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered. “You’ve got me all fucked up.”
“Well, forget about it for now. Now, you’re mine, right?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to give yourself to me, to trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” And she did as he said; she pushed all thoughts out of her head until it was only her and his voice, telling her what to do. Setting her free.
“Are you open for me now?”
“Yes.” Wasn’t she always?
“If I was there, I’d tie you to that chair. I’d bind your ankles wide apart, I’d have you spread open for me. Bound for me.”
She hitched a breath, her heart hammered in her chest.
“I’d tie your wrists to the arms of the chair and you’d be at my mercy. I could do anything to you then, couldn’t I, baby? I could take your breasts in my hands, pinch your nipples until you cried out. Couldn’t I, Ruby?”
“Yes,” she hissed, her breasts now heavy, throbbing.
“I could step between your legs, let you suck my cock.”
She closed her eyes and licked her lips, remembering exactly what he tasted like, how his penis had beat with his pulse, in her mouth, on her tongue. She remembered how powerful that feeling had been, and her own sex responded by getting wetter; the air was cool, hitting her between the legs, and she squirmed in her seat.
“Oh, God… I… I wish you were here,” she said.
His voice was soft. “So do I, baby. But for now you’ll just have to obey me and let me imagine you there, spread wide and open for me. Tell me again who you belong to tonight?”
“You, Mark. I belong to you.”
“Good girl. Now, I need you to take the larger cuffs and bind your ankles to the legs of that chair.”
Her fingers trembled as she lifted a large leather band and unbuckled the strap. About three inches wide, made of black leather, each restraint was lined in soft, minklike fur. They smelled like leather, like Mark. Bending, she wrapped the cuff around her right ankle and locked the buckle. Then the other ankle and she was done. Bound.
“Are you finished, baby?”
“Yes.”
“How does it feel?”
“Soft. Good,” she said, satisfaction settling inside her.
“Good. Now I want you to take a picture with your cell phone and send it to me.”
“What?” She’d promised herself she’d never pose nude again.
“Are you questioning me?”
But this self-bondage was nothing like what she’d done with Ash. Ash had been all about the art and beauty and composition. It had never been about her at all, had it?
With Mark, no matter how submissive a position she found herself in, she realized, in the end, it was about her pleasure, about her.
“Come on now, baby. I wouldn’t put it past you to be faking the whole thing, being the unruly little spitfire you are. I need proof before we go any further.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good girl.”
Holding her cell phone in front of her, she angled it as best she could to get her lower body in the frame. She pushed the button and waited for the click to tell her the picture had been recorded.
She studied the image. Was that really her? Legs open wide, bound to a chair with oversized black leather restraints, like some sort of prisoner?
Yeah, it was.
“Did you send it to me?”
She did.
A few seconds later she heard him inhale. “Oh, fuck, baby. You’re so gorgeous. You deserve your reward now. Get the vibrator.”
She picked it up off the table, held it in her palms.
“Now tell me. Are you wet?”
“I am.”
“That’s good.” Suddenly the vibrator started humming in her hands. “Feel that? I just love modern technology.”
“Oh God, I think I do, too.”
“Touch yourself now, baby. Touch your clit.”
With her gaze on her sex, she pressed the humming vibrator to the throbbing nub at the top of her pussy. She jerked, gasped.
“That’s it, touch yourself now, baby. Touch your clit, rub that vibrator around your beautiful pussy.”
Sagging into the chair, her ankles pushed against their soft restraints, she did as he commanded. She was so slick, so turned on, the jellylike vibrator slid easily over her pussy.
He upped the power and she cried out. “Oh… fuck…” Knowing he held the power in his hands, despite the distance, turned her on even more, made her buck against the back of the chair as she held the buzzing instrument between her thighs.
“That’s right, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Good… ah!” she gasped, nearly dropping the phone. “Oh, God… Mark.”