A Baptism in Pleasure
Kenji
Minutes later, leather closed over my wrists.
The first cuff buckled with a patience that stroked along my veins, tightening until my pulse had nowhere to go but into her grip. My chest expanded too slowly, lungs greedy for more air than I could pull. Every breath tasted of her—ripe plum and deep amber.
Surrender.
The second cuff followed, snug and absolute, sealing me and triggering my breath to stumble.
What will happen?
My fingers twitched in reflex, wanting to reach for her, but the strap held firm. The tongue of the leather slid through, locking in place with a muted snap that landed low in my gut.
Too final to fight.
Too right to want to.
Whatever this was going to be. . .it was already winding me too tight. Heat coiled low, heavy and urgent.
My cock strained against the water’s slow drag and the pounding pressure of my own pulse. The ache at the tip of my cock was sharp and swollen, every throb a warning I was too close.
I imagined the moment I would break—how it would tear through me in hot, merciless surges from my cock.
Long white streams spilling into the water.
Unfurling slow, milky ribbons.
Curling around my thighs before drifting free, weightless.
Rising and falling with the lazy sway of the current.
The water would take them further away, stretching each thread thinner, making them pale and luminous.
Just the thought made my balls tighten harder into a deep, aching knot and triggered my whole body to tremble on the edge of surrender.
But, my Tiger wasn’t done with me yet.
Next, she began to secure my ankles.
She disappeared into the water.
Then, heat kissed my calves first, next her hands—warmer still—closed around me. Her palms glided slow, deliberate, as if mapping where I was most vulnerable.
My muscular thighs involuntarily twitched.
She guided my feet toward the gold straps sunk deep in the tub, and when her fingers skimmed the inside of my ankle, something sharp and molten lit in my stomach.
Fuck, Tora. . .You’re my Queen, but you’re also. . .my fucking undoing.
My heels sank into their cradles. The contrast made every nerve spike, then surrender. Ripples curled up my calves, tastingme as they climbed. Their caresses wove with the pulse that had started pounding between my legs.
When the last hook kissed the ring at my ankle, everything shifted.
The water let me go.
Gravity took me instead—pulling me down, centering me in the tub, spine settling into the liquid cradle my Tiger had built. My shoulders eased back without permission. Any fight in my muscles bled away.
