I never head him coming up behind me.
By the time James had his hands on my wrists, had my arms twisted up behind my back, it was too late - I was in his control. It was all I could do to keep the smile from my lips when I felt his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re mine, little one . . . MY little fucktoy”
My teeth bit into my bottom lip to stifle a moan. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, his masculine scent filling my head.
“Yes, Sir. Your’s Sir,” I managed to stammer.
He shoved me down the hall to the bedroom, my toes barely touching the ground. His every motion was barely controlled lust, his touch insistent, his grip so tight on my wrists I knew I would be wearing long sleeves for a week.
The bedroom door kicked open, the room behind dimly lit with candles placed around. Whatever James was planning, it was clearly nothing spur-of-the-moment. I barely had time to take it the scene when he slammed me face down to the bed. His hand snaked into my hair, jerking my head back.
“I’m going to take you....use you... make you beg for it”
This time the moan spilled unbidden from my lips, “yessss . . . please Sir . . . ”
He flipped me to my back, his knees pushing my legs wide. I waited for him to tear my clothes off, watching his eyes, so dark, so filled with an almost angry need.
To my surprise he guided my hands to leather cuffs, snugging the cool black leather against my wrists. He smiled ferally down at me, drawing my arms tight, shortening the straps on the cuffs until my shoulders ached.
He moved down the bed to my legs. His hands were firm, warm even through my jeans. My spread thighs quivered under his touch. I felt him remove my sandals, gasping as his hands brushed over my bare skin, feeling an almost electric spark jump from him to me.
He slipped rope loops around my ankles, tensioning them, forcing my legs wide.
“But sir I’m still dress-”
His hand closed around my throat, jerking my gaze to his.
“Silence. I will NOT tell you again. Do you understand?” His eyes were dark, glittering shards of obsidian as he looked down.
“Yes Sir,” I swallowed another protest.
James stood from the bed . . . blowing out a few of the candles, lowering the already dim light in the room. He pressed a button on the CD player, filling the room with a low, smoky saxophone solo. The volume was just loud enough that the music filled my ears, and tied as I was I couldn’t quite see what he was doing off to the side of the bed. I felt the bed shift under his weight again, saw his hands move over my face, snugging the blindfold in place - and plunging me into darkness. He ran fingers over the edges of the black velvet, ensuring it would stay in place and then got up from the bed.
The blindfold and the music left me completely cut off. I was lost in a tiny black bubble, my universe drawn down to a tiny sphere. I moved my head back and forth, straining for any hint of where he was. I ached for his touch, his presence. Tugging experimentally against the leather confirmed that the cuffs were tight and not likely to release me. I was completely under his control, and I wasn’t even sure where he was.
And I loved it. My body was alive, every nerve tuned like a taut wire, my pussy so wet I could feel the hot flow of my juices against my shaven skin.
