I return to the chaise where Luke lies sprawled and unconscious, still wearing nothing but that ridiculous mask. He looks vulnerable like this.
I take his wrists and secure them to the frame of the chaise, one at a time, using the velvet restraints I brought. The knots are simple but effective. I practiced them for weeks, wanting to make sure I could tie them quickly in the dark if needed.
When I'm done, I step back to admire my work. Luke Morrison, my husband, tied up and helpless on the same chaise where he just spent hours making me scream for him.
My husband has a thing for elaborate scenarios. And I love him for it.
But this time, I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.
I found his plans a month ago. He's meticulous about most things, but he left a notebook in his home office, buried under a stack of work files. I wasn't snooping…I was looking for a stapler, but the words "Valentine's Day" caught my eye, and curiosity got the better of me.
The notebook contained everything. The vineyard location. The chase route. The cellar setup. The costume he wanted me in. Page after page of detailed planning, all in his neat handwriting.
My first instinct was to pretend I hadn't seen it. To let him have his surprise, to play the scared victim like I had before, to give him the fantasy he'd worked so hard to create.
But then a different idea took root.
What if I surprised him back?
The sedative I tucked into my cheek at home, pretending to swallow while actually palming the pill he'd crushed into mywine. I drank enough to be woozy, to sell the act, but I spit most of it into my box of chocolates before he could notice.
Luke thinks he drugged me. What he doesn't know is that I've been playing along all night, letting him think he was in complete control.
The fear was real but it was fear mixed with anticipation. The orgasms were definitely real. My husband knows exactly how to take me apart.
But now it's my turn.
I light more candles, adding to the ones already burning. The cellar grows brighter, warmer. Then I move to the sound system hidden in the corner and switch to my playlist—something darker, more sensual, with a driving beat that pulses through the stone walls.
I check the time. Maybe ten minutes until he wakes up.
Perfect.
I use the time to arrange myself, to prepare. I check my restraints—secure but not too tight. I adjust my mask, making sure it mirrors his exactly. I practice my expression in the reflection of a wine bottle: cool, amused, completely in control.
This is the part Luke loves most—the anticipation. The moment before the game changes, when the power shifts and nothing is certain. He's given me that feeling so many times. Tonight, I get to give it back.
I think about what he said earlier, when I was tied to that post in the vineyard. "This whole vineyard is mine. Which means you're mine."
Let's see how he likes it when the tables are turned.
A sound from the chaise makes me look over. Luke is stirring, his head moving slightly, his fingers twitching against the restraints. The sedative is wearing off faster than I expected—maybe I should have used a higher dose.
It doesn’t really matter. I'm ready.
I position myself at the foot of the chaise, arms crossed over my chest, the black silk robe falling open just enough to hint at what's underneath. The mask covers half my face, leaving only my wine-stained lips and sharp smile visible.
His eyes flutter. Once, twice. Then they open fully, blinking against the candlelight.
I watch awareness return to him in stages. First confusion—where is he, what happened, why can't he move? Then realization—his arms are restrained, stretched above his head, bound to the chaise frame. Then, finally,recognition.
His eyes find me, and I see the moment his brain catches up to what he's seeing.
A woman in black silk. A mask that mirrors his own. A smile that promises trouble.
"Good morning, husband." I keep my voice low, amused. "Or should I say... good evening? I seem to have lost track of time."
He tugs at the restraints, testing them. They hold firm. I see the muscles in his arms flex while realization dawns. He's not getting free unless I let him.
