Reality is finally catching up to her. She’s exposed, tied up, vulnerable, and alone with someone who she can’t even identify. Unless law enforcement conducts a line-up of perps without pants, there is honestly no tellingwhoI am. Nevertheless, you can’t rush art, so she’ll have to tolerate my preparation a little longer.
With her top half restricted, I walk her back until her heels touch the end of the wooden platform.
Cindel’s eyes are like saucers, legs trembling, all the while I keep her there… right at the edge of the ice water.
My finger brushes against her lips before continuing downward past her sternum, between her breasts, sliding over her stomach, where my touch ends just above her pubic bone.
She monitors me as I fetch more of the silky rope.
Creating a series of new knots and shapes; I wrap and secure an equal measure of rope around each thigh, finishing just below her knees. A single-column tie with a loop behind each bend will allow the bight to act as a pulley system.
I check her hands, legs, and other extremities to make sure they are theirusualcolor. When I’m confident nothing is too tight nor too loose, I connect her to previously suspendedropes and pulleys, on either side of the wooden pillars. Before suspending her above the dock, I check in.
She looks at each connected rope before peering over her shoulder at the dark water. Her hooded eyes consider me; the tangle of ropes in my hand, my hidden face, and a stiffy that’s beginning to throb painfully. Again, she bites that puffy bottom lip of hers, then tilts her head back.
God damn, if that’s not a yes, I don’t know what is.
I pull hard on the ropes, tying the loose ends to a cleat hitch, located on the wooden berth. Levitating at just the right height, her body is splayed wide for me. She’s willing, but is she able to face all hard truths to come?
Cindel resembles a rotisserie in a butcher’s knot… but sexy, and I am hungry. Eager to devour her.
I chuckle silently to myself, over the irony of it all. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. If I actually obeyed orders, I’d simply run my blade across her throat and leave her here to bleed out. Too bad I’ve never been good at playing by the rules.
Cindel allowing me to string her up like this just validates that she trusts me. She’s ready to play and absolutely fucking perfect like this.
I pick up my phone from the ground, typing out what I can’t voice before hitting play. The words murmur in her ear, “I told you I’d make you myangeltonight, but not before you know whose name to scream.”
A shiver wracks through her suspended body as she focuses on me.
Removing the goggles first, I chuck them off to my side.
Cindel squints in the dim light, first taking in my eyes.
I step closer to her hanging form. Ever so slowly, I drag the balaclava up and over my face… holding the material by my side with a clenched fist. What if she rejects me? Screams even? I’veconcealed who I was up until now. Frankly, I’ve kept who I truly am a secret, not just from her, but everyone.
Her eyes are unblinking. I don’t even think she’s taken a breath.
Time is frozen as I clutch the mask tighter in my hand. There’s nothing to say, no readable expression, just parted lips that I so desperately want to taste. Maybe this is a mistake? I drag my fingers through my hair, knowing what an unacceptable mess I must look.
“It’s you,” she states plainly. “Has it been you the whole time? But… what about the toothpick I found in my room? I thought you could have been Garron!” Her voice becomes high-pitched on the last word.
Crap, are my knots too tight? How could she possibly think I was that buffoon? I must have tracked a toothpick into her room on my shoes. I attempt to wet my chapped lips, still grasping the small piece of fabric like it’s a lifeline. I bend my head downward instinctively… attempting to hide my scar. Did she want it to be him? Was showing her my dark secret a poor decision? I can’t tell.
When I finally find the courage to look back up at her, we just stare at each other. This goes on for so long, I start to believe she’s ready to tell me to take her down.
“Can you speak?”
I look to the floor and sign “no”with my three fingers.
I picked up some sign language after my accident. Now she knows I’m Eamon’s mangled friend, I can finally use my hands to speak again.
I peer up at her, just as her eyes retreat from me, seeming to remember that we’re fully naked and I’m perpetually erect.
“Dax.” Her eyes are heavy. “Please,” she begs, facing me again with fervency.
My name sounds more like a prayer than a curse, coming from her mouth. She… she still wants me?
The tension in my chest eases. Knots I never knew were present begin to unfurl in my belly. Cindel accepts me, defects and all. More than passion at this juncture, I feel an animalistic desire to protect… to possess. No one will ever hurt her again. Her simple plea is all the consent I need.
