"Good girl." He stops in front of me, tilting my chin up. "We're going to go slowly. I'm going to show you what it means to surrender completely. And if at any point you need me to stop, you use that word. Understood?"
"Understood."
He reaches for leather cuffs, soft on the inside, secured with buckles. He fastens one around my wrist, then the other, his touch gentle and methodical.
"How does that feel?" he asks.
"Tight," I admit. "But not painful."
"Good." He clips the cuffs to the suspension rig above me, and suddenly my arms are stretched overhead, my body vulnerable and exposed.
Panic flutters in my chest, but underneath it is something darker. Something that thrills at the helplessness, at the trust this requires.
Nathan moves behind me, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, my back, my hips. Not sexual. Just... claiming. Mapping my body with his touch.
"You're shaking," he observes.
"I'm scared," I admit.
"I know. But you're also aroused. I can see it in your breathing. Feel it in the heat of your skin."
He's right. God, he's right. The fear and desire are so tangled I can't separate them anymore.
His hands slide to the hem of my sleeveless dress—one of the silk pieces he bought me—and slowly, torturously slowly, he removes it . I'm left in just my underwear, exposed and vulnerable, my arms still suspended above me.
The air conditioning raises goosebumps on my skin, and Nathan traces them with his fingertips, mapping every shiver, every tremor.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking beautiful when you surrender like this."
He continues his exploration, and I lose track of time. His touch is everywhere and nowhere, bringing me to the edge of pleasure but never quite letting me fall over.
When his hand finally slides between my legs, I gasp, my body arching into his touch.
"More," I breathe. "Please, Nathan, more."
"Not yet," he says, and the denial makes me want to scream.
He brings me to the edge again and again, his fingers skilled and merciless, until I'm sobbing with need, my body strung so tight I think I might shatter.
"Please," I beg. "Please, I can't—"
"You can," he says. "You can take more. You're stronger than you think."
But I'm not. I'm breaking apart. "Please! Nathan, I’m yours."
And then he gives it to me. The orgasm crashes through me, claiming me in waves. And I scream, actually scream.
"Good girl. You okay?" he asks, his voice tight with control.
"Just...," I gasp. "I need a moment."
He unclips the cuffs from the suspension rig immediately, lowering my arms, his hands gentle as he massages feeling back into my shoulders.
"You did so well," he murmurs.
I'm shaking all over, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest.
"I've got you," he whispers. "You're safe. You're perfect. You're mine."
