Knowing it’s a rhetorical question, I stay silent and follow him back between the bondage frameworks to where a telescopic pole sticks up from the floor. Huh. That wasn’t here before. I realize that’s what he was doing with the drill. Attaching the pole to the floor. But what for? The pole is only about an inch and a half in diameter and barely reaches my thighs, so pole dancing is definitely out, not that I’d look erotic doing it anyway. As I warily watch the pole, Master attaches a dildo to the top of it. Oh god.
“I will need you to stand still for me,” Master announces, that gleeful grin from before erasing the remnants of his anger. His grin widens as he squirts some lube onto the dildo. “You’ll be a beautiful house decoration today. Come here, Doll.”
I know what he’s planning now, and it’s equal parts terrifying and exciting. Also arousing. Very, very arousing. Knowledge that I don’t have any choice in this is a big part of that arousal, but it’s also the way Mikhail looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the entire universe. I was stupid to doubt him. Leave it to my insecurity to rear its ugly head at the most inappropriate time.I’m lucky I didn’t end up bent over the sawhorse and beaten within an inch of my life. I’d completely deserve it.
I yelp out as Mikhail easily picks me up and eases me down on the dildo. It slides into my pussy, deeper and deeper, and— “Crap.” Even when I stand on my tiptoes, it painfully digs into my cervix.
“You’re too short,” he teases, still supporting my weight as he shortens the pole. With the adjustment, I can stand on my feet now. The dildo is deep inside of me but not painfully so. I also can’t move. “This is wicked,” I murmur as I test how much I can move. Impaled as I am, I can’t move backward, forward, or to the side. I can rise on my tiptoes, but that doesn’t dislodge the dildo, and there’s no way I could jump high enough to get it out of me. I’m stuck.
Mikhail grins. “Now you’re not going anywhere. Shall we begin with the decorating part?”
Chapter 30
Mikhail
Icheck the video tutorial before tying the last knot between Grace’s shoulder blades. I’m usually confident in my work with Dolls and I’ve studied ropework extensively, but I’ve never actually done any of these “pretty” bindings before. With the previous Dolls, I kept my restraints purely functional. Grace is different, though. Special. How can she not see that? How could she doubt she’s special to me? I told her she was mine. Repeatedly. Granted, I didn’t share my plans with her, so…
Perhaps she thinks she’ll only be mine for a few days before I hand her over to her new Master and forget about her? Ridiculous. Yes, I will hand her over to her new Master, but only because it’s the safest way for her to leave the compound.I could never smuggle her out. As Anton said, she’s expensive merchandise.
Besides, with what I have planned, the compound will be the least safe place in the country. I grin as I imagine the place going up in flames. It has been my home for two decades, but I’ll burn it to the ground without hesitation. Grace is the only home I need, and these assholes want to take her from me. They’ve signed their own death sentences.
When I attach the rope to the harness around my Doll’s chest and throw it over a ceiling hook, she sighs with relief. Her body relaxes as she leans into the ropes, and I sense her sinking deeper into subspace.
She’s beautiful like this, with her blown pupils and that soft, absent smile lighting up her face. I’ve never had a Doll slip into true subspace before. With sleep deprivation, torture, and the right mind games, I could push them into a similar detached state, and it was fun, but nothing beats having a Doll trust me enough to actually let herself lose control like this. At the risk of repeating myself, she’s so fucking perfect.
The dark red ropes work well in contrast with her pale skin, and I’m glad I picked this color and not the usual natural one. I might not have a beautiful gown or sexy lingerie to dress Grace in down here, but I can dress her up in other ways. I’m proud of the lattice of ropes crisscrossing her chest and arms, even if the shapes aren’t perfectly symmetrical. I cut myself some slack, though. Shibari has a steep learning curve, and I’ve done a good enough job. Next time will be even better, and there will definitely be a next time because damn, this is fun.
I’ll have to research suspension, too, because the thought of having my Doll hanging from the ceiling like the most beautiful Christmas ornament while I cook or lounge is fucking hot. I bet she’ll love it too, and if she doesn’t, well… It’s a good thing we’re not in a consensual relationship. I’m not an asshole, though, soI’ll make it fun for her with a vibrator or two. Or wired clamps, if she’s being bratty.
I could put them on her now and let her whimpering be the soundtrack as I decorate her, but I don’t want her hurting herself trying to move. Having her impaled on the dildo like an exotic butterfly sounded like a fun idea and it restrained her efficiently, but it’s limiting for other activities. The way her pussy lips are spread around the thicker base is beautiful, though, and it leaves her clit partially exposed, so it’s not all bad.
Unable to help myself, I drop to my knees and run my tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Crying out, Grace jerks and loses her balance, but the rope harness keeps her upright. Her muscles work as she subconsciously tries to thrust her hips forward to get closer to my tongue, but the dildo prevents her from moving. I swirl my tongue around her clit, reveling in her taste and the desperate noises she’s making.
“Please, Master,” she whimpers. “Mikhail!”
As much as I love her crying out my name, there’s a time and place for names, and now isn’t the time. “Manners, Doll,” I warn, biting down on her thigh to make sure I have her attention. She cries out, and I lave the area with my tongue to soothe the pain. Another addition to the growing set of marks covering her body.
I usually try to send Dolls to their new Masters as unblemished as possible, but Grace is mine, and I want everyone to know it. The asshole who gets her won’t be enjoying her for long. My blood boils at the thought of anyone laying their filthy hands on my Doll, but there’s no going around it, so I soothe myself by adding another bite mark to her thigh.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Grace whimpers. “But please. May I please come?”
Not a damn chance. I will be inside of her when she comes. “No,” I reply sternly. “You doubted me, Doll. I told you that you were mine, and you doubted that. Clearly, I have failed in drivingthat point home, so you will not be coming until I have truly shown you just how much you really belong to me.”
Grace whimpers but knows better than to argue. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Master. I just couldn’t understand how someone as amazing as you could want someone like me, but as you said. It was just my mind trying to sabotage my happiness.”
“See? I’m usually right.” To be honest, I gave that line to every Doll I trained. It’s part of the mind games to help them accept that serving is their purpose now. With Grace, though, it’s genuinely true. She’s happy when she serves, and her mind does try to destroy that happiness on the stupid notion that being a sex toy is somehow wrong. I really don’t get it. Her entire purpose is to bring me happiness, which in turn makes her happy. How could that be wrong? It’s good she has me to do the thinking now, because her mind sometimes comes up with truly stupid ideas.
Grabbing the box of flowers, I start attaching them to the ropes around Grace’s body, turning her into a forest goddess. The flowers are fake, cheap decorations from a nameless department store, and I hate it. She deserves to be adorned with real flowers. Not something lame like roses, either. Wildflowers, freshly picked from a meadow outside our house. That will work nicely. Also, we’re definitely getting a house. Somewhere far from civilization, where I can chase my Doll through the woods or leave her tied to a tree overnight. My cock jerks, letting me know that it wholeheartedly agrees with the idea.
“Our house?” Grace rouses from subspace to squint at me.
Damn. How much of that did I say out loud? “Shush,” I silence her before she can ask more questions. “We’re not talking about that now.”
“Okay,” she agrees easily. “It sounds good, though. Something with a garden. I miss the sun.”
I’m used to not seeing the sun for weeks, but now that she mentioned it, I find myself craving it too. Grace in the sun must be a sight to behold. Tied up, her ass still red from the spanking I gave her, waiting for me to sink my cock into her while a mild breeze plays with her hair. Fuck, when did I become such a sappy fool?
As I twine the fake flowers between the ropes, I purposely brush against Grace’s nipples, inner thighs, and clit. She moans and squirms, and when she opens her mouth to beg for release again, I put a rose stalk between her teeth. “Hold it,” I order her. “If you drop it, you won’t get to come at all.”
