1
KIERNAN
The rope slid through my fingers as I wrapped the sub’s wrists behind her. Cross, loop, check tension. Her breathing had already shifted—slower, deeper, sinking into the headspace I’d guided her to dozens of times before.
“Too tight?” I asked.
“No, sir.”
I secured the binding while Colin set everything we’d need within reach. Imelda’s red hair fell forward as she knelt, patient and trusting.
I took three steps away.
“Apply the harness using a diamond pattern.”
He picked up the longer rope, got behind his wife, and began wrapping her torso. The crimson contrasted sharply with her pale skin as he worked, creating the frame that would distribute pressure evenly. But my mind conjured olive skin instead. Dark wavy hair, not red.
“Tighter on the third wrap,” I said, willing myself to remain in the scene.
Colin locked the harness into place with flawless execution.
“Now, the spreader bar.”
He knelt to lock the cuffs around Imelda’s ankles, forcing her thighs apart. The position put her on display—vulnerable, exposed, and trembling as her arousal became visible.
Everything was as it should be. So why did I feel so disconnected?
“Look at her,” I ordered Colin. “Tell me what you see.”
“She’s beautiful, sir.” His tone roughened with arousal. “The rope frames her perfectly. Her nipples are hard, and I can see how turned on she is?—”
“Details,” I snarled, cutting him off. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
I gave the command, but my mind was somewhere else. Instead of green, I was thinking about light-brown irises turning dark.
“Her thighs are shaking, sir,” Colin continued. “She’s so wet I can see it. Her breathing’s changed—she’s trying to remain still, like you taught her, but she wants to. She wants to be touched.”
“Who should you be looking at?” I snapped at Imelda.
Her eyes found mine at once, glazed and unfocused. Exactly where she should be.
Except I wasn’t.
“You don’t acknowledge him unless I tell you to. You don’t speak unless I ask you a question. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
I turned to Colin. “Start at her knee and lick your way up. Slowly.”
He obeyed my command, working his way higher with deliberate kisses while Imelda fought to remain motionless.
This should have been perfect. Every movement was orchestrated, every touch directed. But my thoughts continued to wander as Colin’s mouth pleasured his wife and her breathing grew ragged.
Instead of clean-shaven skin scraping sensitive flesh, I envisioned a trimmed beard. Sandy-brown hair falling forward instead of dark. Another man’s head, whose pupils were blown wide with arousal and submission, raised for permission.
“Hands on her breasts. Show me how she likes it.”
He straightened, and his fingers found her nipples. He rolled them, then tugged, making her gasp and arch into his touch as much as the restraints allowed.
