I turn and unzip my bag and pull out the set of handcuffs. Her breathing accelerates in the quiet bathroom when I tell her to turn around. As she does what she’s told, I secure her dainty wrists inside the cold metal and then turn her back to face me.
“Close your eyes.” Her eyelids fall closed without hesitation as she takes a shaky breath. “Feel my hands, Eve?” I ask, running them over her chest and neck, slowly moving them up to cup her face.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I run them down her back and pull her into me as I place my lips to her racing pulse. “Feel my lips?” I gently kiss her soft skin up to the shell of her ear.
“Ye-ah.” She’s panting now, her hips pushing into mine, and I have to refrain from smiling when I make my way to her lips. When she parts them for me, I kiss her deeply, swallowing her moan before I pull away.
“Eyes on me now, Eve.”
They flutter open and I give her a smile. “You’re doing so good, angel.” She whimpers at my praise, her arms fighting the cuffs, and I bet she’s soaked.
“I’m going to put a hood over your head and gag you.”
Her eyes widen at my confession. “Kash?—”
“You’ll be okay,” I assure her.
There’s no telling how many sick bastards took advantage of her at Dollhouse. I want her to feel safe with me. To know that no other man on this planet will ever touch her again. No one other than me.
“I’m going to lay you down in bed, tied up. I’m going to take away your sight, your hearing, and your voice.” She swallows nervously, but her eyes grow heavy. “It’ll be my hands, my mouth, and my cock—only—that touches you. No one else, do you understand?”
She nods.
“Words, Eve.” I need her to tell me she understands. I don’t know what she’s endured, but this is part of my plan to push her. I need to show her she can trust me. That I’m who she needs.
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
I hate that she calls mesir. I have never been a fan, but I’m not going to correct her. I’m about lifting my woman up, not making her feel bad about herself.
Leaning in, I kiss her forehead. “Go lie on the bed. Arms underneath you.”
She walks off, and I enter her closet. I see she’s moved the box, which means she knows I’ve opened it. I wonder why she hasn’t asked me about it. Maybe she doesn’t want to bring it up and then have me ask questions about why she has it and where the items came from.
I’ll save that for another day.
I grab a pair of her high heels and then pick up my bag from the countertop in the bathroom before I walk into her bedroom.
She lies in bed, her secured wrists underneath her, struggling to get comfortable. I’m going to make it worse. She’s going to be crying desperate tears by the time I’m done playing with her.
My pretty little toy.
I slide each heel on and then remove the spreader bar that I slipped under her bed last night after she fell asleep. I’ve done a lot of shopping for my angel since I saw her at the cathedral.
Grabbing rope from my bag, I wrap it around the heel and up her ankle, then around the bar to make sure she can’t kick her shoes off. Then I do the other one, forcing her legs far apart. I want her to be wide open for me.
“Kashton…please,” she pants, arching her back. Like this, unable to move her legs, she’s even more uncomfortable.
I lean over her face and pull her messy bun out, letting her hair fan the pillow. Her green eyes search mine. “Just me and you,” I remind her, and she nods. “I’m going to sit you up.” I reach underneath her shoulders and pull her to a sitting position, and she quickly adjusts her arms.
Digging my AirPods out of my pocket, I place them in my ears and go to a song on my cell. When I adjust the volume to my liking, I pull the buds out and stop the song.
I slide them into her ears and then gather her hair at the nape of her neck, securing it in a loose ponytail. Then I slide the spandex hood over her head, and her body begins to tremble in my hands.
I didn’t want to use latex; I figured that it would be too much too soon. This is flexible and has no zippers, so her hair won’t get caught in it. It covers her chin and down to her neck. There’s a hole for her mouth and two small ones for her to breathe through her nose. But the material itself is pretty breathable.
Grabbing the next item I want out of the bag, I rub it against her lips, and she parts them for me. “That’s my good girl,” I praise, though I’m sure my voice is muffled by the AirPods, even though I haven’t started the song yet.
