After tonight she will be.
Wrapped only in a towel, she pads behind me quietly. My ability to sense her presence shouldn’t be considered anything unusual since I’ve always been aware of those around me. It’s a vigilance created and matured in a life saturated with violence and deceit. But when it comes to Carina, I’m attuned to her in a way that’s deeper and more intense than usual. In the beginning I would’ve said it was due to what she offered me, in the way of insider information.
But nothing of that sort came to mind when I saw her in trouble.
She was my sole priority, not business.
“Stand here,” I say, indicating the spot on the floor with a pointed index finger. She does as I command and then I tip up her chin. “Don’t try to run again. I warned you that if I did, you’d be punished for every unnecessary step I took. Well, I’ve lost count.”
Her eyes go wide with every word I speak and fear enters the hazel color, brightening it. This is different than when I first saw Carina at her apartment. Then the hue was dull and nearly brown, but now it almost shimmers with apprehension.
I quickly undress and toss aside the ruined clothing and shoes. A blinding fury had overtaken me momentarily when Carina told me to leave her alone, which was the reason I stepped into the shower fully-dressed. Doesn’t she get that I’d walk away from her if I could? If she were any other woman, I would’ve already obtained the information I needed about Nardone, instead of agreeing to an engagement. And I would’ve fucked her multiple times, not cared about her almost being killed, and never would’ve picked out a ring specifically for her, or at all.
Basically, I wouldn’t have given a fuck about anything concerning her.
But I’m still here, so obviously I do.
I walk over to the far wall to release the hemp rope from its hook and then press the button next to it. A low hum generated by gears shifting is followed by the lowering of a ring, linked to the ceiling by a chain. Carina’s gaze fastens to the metal hoop as it descends and then she looks to my hands clutching the rope.
Our eyes meet and I catch the slight tremble of her lips. Mine adopt a sinister smile as I close the distance between us. Then I grab the edge of the towel covering her and tug on it forcefully, stripping her bare. She gasps and squints at me in clear anger, but now her delectable body is free for me to enjoy at my leisure. My cock stiffens at the mental image of her bound and suspended.
After I wrap her towel around my hips, I hold out my hand, palm facing up. “Give me your hand.”
She does, but I catch the tell-tale sign of her tapping her thigh with the other. Each and every instruction I give, no matter how simple or difficult, is to train her. I want my fiancée to obey me without hesitation, without question. In time she’ll learn it’s for her safety, but until then this is going to be a hard lesson for her to accept.
I’ll also tread carefully, not wanting to crush her spirit.
Only her insubordination.
Whatever it takes to ensure neither of us experience anything like this again.
After creating a loop, I take her wrist and thread it through, tightening the rope until it’s snug against her skin, yet not tight enough to inhibit circulation. With every manipulation of the hemp’s strings and every knot formed, her breathing becomes more shallow.
“Have you heard of the art known as ‘shibari?’' I ask, my tone mild. Keeping myself from unleashing my rage on her is going to require all the self-control I possess. Just seeing the bruises on her body, temporarily marring her perfect skin, sends violence pumping through my bloodstream.
“No.” There's a detectable note of confusion in her voice, as well as accusation. “Should I?”
I shrug. “It’s Japanese rope bondage. I thought you’d know because it’s quite popular in photography.”
“It doesn’t matter since I’m not going to make a living with it.”
“I see. Give me your other hand.”
She hesitates and I understand why. The idea of being bound and helpless, and at the mercy of another, isn’t something she’s willing to subject herself to. And I don’t want that for her, unless it has to do with me.
I transfer the bindings to one hand and use the other to smack her ass. Hard. The satisfying sound of skin hitting skin has my cock twitching and I run my smarting palm over it.
Carina whirls to face me with parted lips and heaving breasts. “Why did you do that?”
“Give me your hand.”
“I’m trying to underst—”
All it takes is a forceful jerk on the rope and she plows into my chest. I slap her other ass cheek and her head snaps up. This time her expression isn’t one of bafflement, it’s pure indignation.
She slams her palms against my torso and shoves away from me. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I—”
“Give me your hand.”
