A flicker of surprise crossed her face. “No.”
I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, drawing out a simple black hair tie. “Then tonight you’ll learn how much control can be in the smallest details.”
Stepping closer, I gathered her hair in my hands, feeling the silky weight of it slide through my fingers. “While I’m decorating you with rope,” I murmured, “this will make you acutely awareof every movement you make. Even the ones you think are small.”
I pulled her hair back into a firm ponytail, letting the gentle tug tilt her head just enough to remind her she’d yielded to me.
“Now,” I said, drawing a length of jute rope from the coil at my side, “this is called aKlemheist Hitch.”
Her eyes stayed on mine as I began to work, the rope rasping softly as it slid over itself. “It’s a friction hitch which means it grips under tension, slides when I want it to. Around your hair, it’s not meant to hurt. But…” I guided the rope up through the polished ring suspended above her head, “if you shift your weight, even a little, the rope will pull more.”
I gave the rope the barest tug. She felt it. I saw it in the slight widening of her eyes, the way her breath caught.
“It will teach you stillness,” I said softly. “And make you aware of every inch of yourself in a way you’ve never been before.”
I took a fresh length of jute from the coil, letting it play through my hands so it picked up the warmth of my skin. “We’ll start with aHishi Karada—diamond harness,“ I told her, circling to stand behind her. “It’s decorative, but functional, and distributes pressure evenly. And it frames the body beautifully.”
Her head tilted slightly at that last part. She’d caught the choice of words. Good.
I looped the rope around her torso just below her breasts, pulling the lines snug, not harshly, but with enough tension to make her exhale. Crossing them at her sternum, I stepped around to face her, keeping my touch controlled, professional… at least on the surface.
Damn you, Nikos.
Businessmen, smug politicians, drunken mobsters—I’d gone undercover with all of them. But this? This wasn’t the same. BDSM had always been separate for me. Clean. A space built on trust and honesty, even if you played with pain and control.Using it as bait to manipulate someone was the lowest sin you could commit in this world.
I angled the rope over her shoulder, drawing it diagonally down her back. She moved with the guidance, smooth, instinctive, like she already knew how to yield without collapsing. That wasn’t learned behavior from a bratva family princess. That was… something else.
I wrapped the rope around her waist, cinching the center diamond at her stomach, then dropped to one knee to start the next set. “Lift your foot.”
She obeyed instantly, toes pointed, graceful even barefoot. I bound the rope around her thigh, the coarse texture sliding over her pale skin before knotting into the diamond pattern I was building downward.
She didn’t fidget. Didn’t preen. Just… breathed. Controlled, measured breaths that told me she was keeping herself in check. But beneath that control, I could see it, small, subtle cues in her body language. The faint twitch of her fingers. The slight press of her tongue against her cheek. The way her chest rose faster each time my hand brushed a new section of skin.
Something inside her was vibrating, aching to be let out.
I knew how to read bodies; it was my stock in trade. And hers was speaking volumes she probably didn’t want me to hear.
And that made me want to explore her, not trick her.
I looped the rope below her knee, weaving the last of the diamonds before moving to the other leg. My hands worked automatically, but my head wasn’t in the rhythm.If she’s in her father’s business, she’s hiding it well.Too well. She didn’t exude the arrogance and cold calculation typical of those running in illegal circles. Her cracks showed me a woman who loved letting go of control, because in the rest of her life, she had none.
I cursed myself again inwardly. This was supposed to be a job. Access the computer, plant the program, and get out. But themore I tied her, the more it felt like I was binding myself into something I hadn’t agreed to.
The final knot cinched into place just above her ankle, and I sat back on my heels, letting my eyes travel the length of her. Rope diamonds embraced her body, each knot a small point of control.
“You wear rope well,” I said quietly.
She looked down at me, and for a heartbeat, something raw flickered in her gaze. Not fear. Not submission. Something closer to… relief.
And I knew I was in trouble.
I rose slowly, letting my hands trail lightly along the rope as I came up, reacquainting myself with each line I’d laid on her body. It wasn’t just for show. Every touch was a check. Tension. Alignment. Symmetry.
When I reached her shoulders, I stepped behind her again, my palm brushing her upper back as I moved the tail of the rope in my hand. The smooth column of her neck was bare, her hair already pulled into the ponytail I’d tied earlier. The rope from theKlemheist Hitchstill hung from the ring above, waiting.
I gathered the tail from the harness and worked it up along her spine, weaving it cleanly through the lines that hugged her shoulders. “I’m going to connect you here,” I said, my voice a mere breath on the shell of her ear. “The rope from your body to your hair. Every move you make will remind you exactly how bound you are.”
Her breath stuttered, almost imperceptibly.
