Knife’s gaze raked over her slowly, and his expression told her he liked what he saw. “Arms up.”
She lifted them without hesitation, and he folded a long length of rope in half then wrapped the center of it around her.
“I’m doing a pretty fast setup today, since I don’t know your body yet. Using jute rope, kinder to the skin than hemp.”
The jute was coarser than she expected — scratchy against her skin, but mostly she focused on how his hands felt, securing the rope while skillfully forming loops and knots. He slid the rope to tighten it, and she felt the roughness again, the fibers dragging across her ribs.
“I’m partial to silk.”
“Knots slip.” He didn’t look up, focused on the pattern. “Not ideal for suspension.”
He built a harness around her chest and breasts with economical movements. The rope moved around her like a living thing at times, then tightened when he secured a knot, and she felt every scratch and pull of the rope as if it were magnified.
“What’s the story with the handlebars? Off your first bike, maybe?”
“You can’t get those from the factory.” He grinned. “Special build, wide and graceful so I can ride a bitch on the bed before I let her on the back of my bike.”
Was that a test? Or was it some kind of biker language? She wasn’t sure, but on the off chance it was a test, she asked, “Any chance I’ll be able to ride you?”
He gave her a half-smile. “Not usually my thing, but we might negotiate it.”
He bent in front of her left leg, coils winding around and around her calf. It didn’t take long, and he stood.
“Need you on the floor. Left leg out to the side and straight. Right leg bent so your foot is directly in front of your ass.”
Her wolf dropped into position before Tuesday even consciously decided to move. The bitch simplyobeyed— no argument, no bristling, no pushback, as she’d done with every other man who’d tried to top her, no matter whether they were human, wolf, bear, or even a fucking lion. The realization sent a shiver through Tuesday’s spine as she looked up at this wolf who’d somehow gained her wolf’s respect and submission.
He attached the harness on her left calf to the one circling her ribs, and pulled. The left leg lifted, straightened sideways, and the stretch hit right out of the gate — a penetrating, pulling ache that lit up deep inside her hip and radiated into her lower back. Not unbearable, but he was only getting started.
And she was still sitting on the floor.
He shifted focus and wound rope around her bent right leg in relentless layers, turning it into an unyielding column of rope. Each pass cinched tighter. The jute pressed into her skin, locking the joint into the folded position. Every so often, he’d run a loop up and over her knee, then he’d go around and around both shin and thigh again. Back up over her knee, then back around and around. The more rope he added, the more trapped she felt. Her heart rate sped a little, and all the blood no longer going to her foot traveled to her clit. She wanted to try to straighten her leg, to fight against the restriction, but she sat quietly and let him work.
By the time he finished, her right leg was a thick, rope-wrapped pillar — bent hard at the knee, foot pressed close to her ass, completely immobile. Meanwhile, her left leg’s angle forced her hip flexor off kilter enough, the joint already ached with a deep, structural burn that promised to get much worse.
There was no doubt he planned to hang her from her right knee, the way he’d threaded the top ropes, and she had no idea what that would do to her right hip. Was that the idea? Hurt both hips?
Through it all, her wolf stayed quiet.
Tuesday swallowed, pulse kicking harder. Her inner beast had never settled like this foranyone.
She figured out she could bend her left knee and relieve her left hip, but then he stretched to the side, returned with a wooden dowel, settled it beside her leg, and tied it off. Top and bottom.
The leg was now forced to stay straight. No words. No orders. He saw a problem and fixed it.
And clearly, he’d anticipated she might bend it, since he’d had the dowel handy.
Finally, he stood and reached over his head to grab the large hoop at the bottom of the rope, and he brought it down nearly to her knee. He tied a complicated knot around all the ropes above her knee, and then made a fancy tie to connect it to the hoop.
“There’ll be a long line coming down from this tie-off. Once I have you in position, I’ll make sure it’s in your hand. If you pull it, it’ll release and you’ll land on the mat below.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he stepped to the wall and worked the ropes. The pulleys creaked softly, and her body rose into the air, shifting her weight from her butt to her right leg, and her hipscreamed.
The strain rocketed through her groin. White-hot fire shot up the front of her thigh and into her lower back like a hot iron bar being driven through muscles and tendons. Every inch higher intensified the burn, compressing nerves and stretching ligaments past comfort. The weight of her body a brutal, unrelenting pull, and she gasped, the sound raw.
“Fuuuuuuuck.”
The left leg stayed straight out to the side, pulling her groin open. She’d thought her left hip hurt before, but it was nothing compared to her right one, now bearing her weight. This was deeper, more architectural — the pain of a hinge being asked to bear a load it was never designed for. Herthigh muscle trembled, blood pounding against the bindings. The ache radiated outward in hot, throbbing waves with every tiny shift of her body.
