The flutter of her lashes would tell me that’s the real issue, even if she hadn’t placed her free hand defensively over her abdomen.
“First off, if you never want to be punished, just obey the rules.”
She nods her head, but her body tenses and I wish I could burrow in behind her eyes and find out what she’s thinking. Find what’s scaring her, even as she’s granting permission.
I could reassure her for a thousand years, but actions convey so much more than words. “If you were to deserve a punishment, this is what would happen. I would lead you over to the sofa…” To illustrate, I step back and guide her until we’re both standing next to the deep brown leather.
The largest cushion goes on the ground between us, then I tug her in a quarter circle until she faces the sofa, taking a seat before her while she remains standing. “Then you’d kneel and confess everything you’ve done wrong.”
Each muscle in her throat strains as she stares down at me, trying to swallow. “Stay there,” I order, standing and letting go of her hands as I stride to the sideboard and pull a roll of masking tape from the top drawer.
“Hold out your hands.” She obeys willingly, the motion soothing her, so the next swallow actually does what it’s supposed to. I pause in front of her, head tilted, changing my mind. “Put them behind your back.”
While she rearranges herself, I shake out my pocket square and lay it over her skin before wrapping the tape around so securely she won’t be able to struggle free.
Not that Isabelle is trying to free herself. She waits with placid acceptance as I move in front of her again, staring at me from those large blue eyes.
I sit again, my gaze travelling over her body, lingering on the hard peaks of her nipples. With her standing, they’re level with my lips. My mouth waters, easily able to imagine what it would feel like to suck one, roll my tongue over its firmness as my hands roam lower.
“Kneel,” I say and my voice cracks on the word.
With her hands tied behind her, some of her balance has gone. She lands more heavily on one knee than the other, off centre. I capture a shoulder in each hand to help her adjust.
Her mouth falls open, lower lip swollen from where she bit it earlier. I want to devour her, kiss her so thoroughly that my lips will leave a permanent imprint on hers. Thrust my tongue into her mouth and see how she takes me. See if she pursues me with her own.
But she fears punishment, not rewards.
I incline my head until we’re level, moving to one side so our mouths are close to the other’s ear. “Now you have to admit what you did wrong,” I whisper, feeling the tilt of her body change as she angles towards me.
She was born to be a sub. Her accession to my demands is all the sweeter because half her nature is built to rebel. I don’t understand how she’s gone this long with no other man claiming her.
From now on, any man will be dead if he tries.
I hear the tiny sound as she licks her lips, the soft gasp as she rallies her courage. “I asked you a question in front of a roomful of people after you told me not to.”
A roomful is a stretch, given there were just three of them, but who’s counting? “And what should you have done?”
My hand curves around the back of her head, holding her steady. I love the soft touch of her hair against my skin, the faint scent of orange peel from her shampoo. This close, I can even taste the light sheen of sweat along her hairline, inhaled a little more with every breath.
“I shouldn’t have asked you?”
There’s a squeak as her voice inclines on the end of the question; she really doesn’t know the answer. “You’re allowed to ask me any questions you want but if I tell you to stop in public, then you stop.” My free hand lands lower, resting on the curve of her waist as it swells into her hip. “You can ask me in private later. That way, you get your answers without embarrassing me.”
“Sorry.”
The soft voiced apology drives me wild. My hairs stand on end as her body leans towards me, seeking my touch.
Before she can break down my self-control, I move back to the role of instructor. “Once you’ve confessed, then I would select a punishment.” I lean back so we’re staring at each other again, rather than our heads being side by side. “What do you think would be appropriate for your transgression?”
“A spanking?”
A blush rises at the suggestion, and I position my hand so I can stroke her cheekbone with my thumb. There’s something wrong. I’ve used restraints before—makeshift like today and more permanent—but I don’t like her being bound.
I want her to be free to do whatever she wants, while choosing to obey me.
“I’m going to pull out a knife but it’s just to cut the tape, okay?” Her eyes still widen when I draw the flick knife from my inside jacket pocket. She jumps as I click out the blade.
When I’ve freed her, I toss the knife and bindings into the dustbin to deal with later. She massages her wrist, but there aren’t any marks on them. I can be careful when I want to be. “Across my knee or bent over the arm of the sofa?”
