“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Hot. Nervous.”
“What else?” he asked patiently.
“Vulnerable,” I admitted. “Embarrassed.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve made you feel that way.”
No it wasn’t. I’d felt all of this on a visceral level when I’d found out about the cameras. Only this time, I’d chosen to feel like this. I’d chosen to trust him to see me through those emotions. That was the point.
“I love looking at you,” he murmured. “I love the lines here.” He ran a finger over the faded stretch marks on my hips left over from puberty. “Your mouth. It’s usually the eyes that are the most expressive but your mouth…” he trailed off, eyes fixed on my lips as if he wanted to devour me. I was on the verge of begging for his kiss when he broke away.
He scanned the tree I was tied to, the dense collection of branches, vines and greenery. I thought he was admiring it but I realised he was looking for something. He reached up and untied something fastened to a low hanging branch.
It was rope, bound neatly. “I had this placed here earlier, in case I decided to use it.”
“You don’t have me tied up enough already?” I flexed my fingers in the bindings, my arms were beginning to ache.
“This is made from cotton,” he said, ignoring my comment. “It’s very soft. Your skin is delicate and I don’t want to mark it.”
He moved behind me and began braiding my hair, weaving the rope through it like Kal did. The rope brushed against my skin and I shivered with each touch. Then he began the processof weaving it around my body. He made artwork out of me, like Kal had of the woman he’d hung from the ceiling.
I closed my eyes, focusing only on the sensation. He didn’t speak but he communicated with me constantly. Reassuring touches and soothing kisses. The rope fastened around my neck and down my waist, firm but not too constricting. My braid was fixed to the rope too and I could barely move my head. He was immobilising me slowly, like a python constricting its prey. He stepped around me and my eyes sprung open as he smoothed the rope around my breasts in a simple figure of eight.
“Alfie…”
“Trust me.”
Trust me.The theme of this whole night.
I tried to look down to see what he was doing but I couldn’t.
He gave the rope a gentle tug and the figure of eight grew tighter. I gasped.
“Look at me.” He pulled it a little more until I whimpered. “There. That’s enough.” He fastened it off, leaving me breathless from the pressure. It was slow at first but as he continued his rope work my breasts grew fuller, more sensitive.
I thought he would want my legs apart but he bound them together. I wished I could see what he was doing. I always loved to watch his hands work. He knelt by my feet and after a minute or two, I felt a ball of rope being pushed under the raised heels of my feet giving me something to stand on and relieving some of the pressure in my legs. His hands went to my calves, massaging gently through the thin rope. He moved up, doing the same with my thighs, easing the sore muscles.
Then he stood. Whatever he saw when he looked in my face pleased him.
“You look sleepy, that’s good.” He stroked his thumb over my cheek. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Calm. Safe.” That feeling broke the second I heard voices. The laughter of lovers chasing each other outside. “Alfie, get me down!” I hissed, immediately panicking.
“Shh. They can’t see you, Lola. And they can’t get in here. It’s just us.”
Right. The walls were frosted glass.
“Can they hear us?”
“Not if you’re quiet.” He grinned.
Oh fuck. He was about to make a game out of this. The couple outside had stopped laughing to indulge in a passionate kiss. I could see their shadows and heard the gasp and giggle as the woman was pressed against the wall of the dome. They had no idea we were in here.
I was distracted from them by Alfie pulling something out of his pocket. His cufflinks. “You’ve experienced this before. Baby steps, remember?”
His fingers moved to my swollen breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasped at the sensation. Alfie smiled. He pinched them gently and I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet.
