She smiled. “And what of the chips in play when the doorbell rings? Sir?"
"If bets have been placed on the hand in progress then we'll finish it."
"I'm assuming I can come as often as I want in my thirty minutes of pleasure?"
He quirked his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth a subtle smirk. “Yes."
Her smile grew wider. “I'm looking forward to your mouth on my pussy, and then maybe some intense flogging, Sir."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
* * * *
Four minutes of pain. Shit. She'd been so close to having all of the chips once, but he'd lucked into a great hand and pulled himself back.
They had a blast playing poker, their conversation and camaraderie reminding her of why she'd been so attracted to him while he was her client. Her feelings for him were beginning to scare her, but she wasn't going to think about it now, she'd think about it later.
Dinner had been steak with mushrooms and vegetables—all of which he'd fed her with his fingers. He'd allowed her to sit in the chair, but tied her hands into her lap, making her dependent on him to feed her. She'd licked his fingers as much as possible, trying to turn him on, but he'd done nothing to relieve the hard-on she was pretty sure she'd given him.
They'd put clothes on and walked around the neighborhood to let their food settle, with conversation flowing freely again. Dana enjoyed spending time with him—which would scare the pants off her later, when she stopped being Scarlett O'Hara and decided to actually think about it. Did she really want to lose herself in another relationship, when it'd taken her so long to recreate who she was without being ‘Garnet's wife'? She closed off that line of thinking, reminding herself, again, she wasn't thinking about it today. She'd deal with those feelings later.
Currently, she was on her knees and elbows atop the big padded bondage table in the center of the playroom—her ankle cuffs attached to the outer edges, as were her thigh-bands, spreading her legs wide and making it impossible to pull them together. A broad strap over her lower back arched her spine down and forced her ass into the air—she was sure it looked obscene. He'd put the wrist cuffs back on her when they returned from their walk, but for the moment her hands were free, though she'd been told that'd change shortly before the four minutes began.
Meanwhile, Zach was in and out of the room, whatever he was planning apparently needed a lot of preparation.
She'd asked him, on their walk, if he'd arrange an alternate way to hurt her if she safeworded out of her four minutes. They agreed if she safeworded then she'd spend an hour on the cross with a hefty plug, a large ball gag, and four-inch heels with tacks in them, forcing her onto her toes. He'd assured her he'd stay in the room, but since he'd be reading, she'd have to keep quiet.
It sounded fair, something she could survive but would certainly rather avoid. She could safeword and end whatever four minutes of hell he was planning if it was truly too much, but with an extremely uncomfortable hour on the cross hanging over her head, she knew she'd only do so as a last resort.
She was pulled out of her reverie when he wheeled a cart behind her. She turned her head to look but was quickly told to keep her eyes forward.
She tried to jerk away as his fingers touched her pussy, but the restraints wouldn't let her.
Her body attempted to escape again as clamps pressed onto her outer lips, and she flinched in anticipation of the pain, but there was only minor discomfort. She looked at the timer, set at four minutes but not started, confirming this wasn't the painful part. He applied three more clamps—two on each side, followed by one on her clit. Pressure for all of them, but no pain.
He inserted something in her pussy—a small bullet vibe? A butt plug came next and was bigger, but not huge.
He disconnected the rope from her thigh-bands and said, “Lay down, please."
As she lowered herself to the table, he allowed one of the trap doors to swing away, creating an empty place for her breasts to hang through, and making her pussy clench in fear. She couldn't see them, but could feel them hanging, and wouldn't be able to see what he did to them. It was different from being blindfolded; it turned her breasts into objects, separate from her body.
Her wrist cuffs were secured over her head, and straps situated over her shoulders and lower back, pressing her to the table. Her thigh-bands were re-attached to the side, assuring her legs would stay spread. She felt him touching things to her upper back in a few places, wondered what they were, but realized he wanted to keep her in suspense, so she didn't ask.
Zach bent under the table and she tried to lift up, escape; but the straps held her firmly in position. He placed something on both sides of her breasts, near her nipples without touching them. It didn't hurt, just felt odd. Band-Aids? Stickers?