"For the rest of this evening, I'm your Dom. You do what I say. Your only out is your safe word. Do you understand?"
Her eyelashes flutter. She's deciding.
She turns, gathers her hair, and lifts, exposing that long, graceful neck. The neck I've imagined my teeth marks on more times than I'll ever admit.
"Good girl."
Those two words sting my lips. I've never called a woman that before. It feels like the closest thing to a commitment I've ever made.
I slip the collar around her neck. If there was ever a neck made for a posture collar, it's hers. I snap the five stainless snaps—pop, pop, pop—then turn her to face me, and take in the way it holds her chin. The silver crow ring on the front catches the light.
I damn near come in my pants.
I reach for the chrome arm bar, the rings and cuffs clinking as I step behind her. God, she looks fragile. So young. If she so much as brushed against me right, I’d ejaculate.
She attempts to turn her head.
I catch the back of her hair immediately.
"That posture collar is on for a reason. You’re kink for this session is movement restriction. Eyes forward, head up. You don't turn your head unless you ask properly and I give permission. Are we clear?"
A half-laugh escapes her. "Uncle Rye, you’re pretty comfortable here. Care to explain yourself?"
I release her hair, reach down, and binding her wrist in my fingers. "Hold your arm out. Right here." I raise it up, tugging it straight, parallel to the floor. "Both of them."
I don't answer her question. If she wants to play this game, she's going to learn how it's played from an expert.
I latch one wrist into the cuff and cinch it. Step around, do the other one. Then step back.
God.
What a work of art. Head high, red dress, six-inch heels, the chrome bar glinting in the spotlight, her hands hanging limp and helpless at each end.
I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.
"You'll wear this until I take it off you."
I step slowly around to face her, hands pushed into my front pockets, letting my eyes travel up and down without apology. Ifshe only knew how many times I'd imagined exactly this, she wouldn't have that look on her face that says she knows she's safe with me.
The pressure wrapped around my windpipe makes every breath a battle.
She extends her fingers and wiggles them, testing her new reality. Then the corner of her mouth curves up.
"I kind of like it."
I lean in.
"Good. I think we're going to find a lot of things you like tonight."
CHAPTER 3
Elodie
Rye hasn't touched me yet, but my body is on fire from head to toe. What is happening here? This man I've known as far back as my memories go has put me in a posture collar and an arm bar inside a kink club.
I feel like Dorothy, and I am definitely not in Kansas anymore. He's not the man I thought I knew. And somehow, that only makes me more feral.
Wow. The McAllister’s perfect daughter is soaking wet for her uncle.
