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There was a tall mirror on the wall near thedoor to the en suite bathroom. He guided me there, hand stilllocked around my neck, the other gripping his cane. I watched usmoving toward the mirror; me, fully naked beside him, in his suitthat probably cost more than I would ever make in a year. I was sovulnerable. Small. Powerless beside him.
He stopped me in front of the glass, histhumb brushing gently over my lower lip. “I’m so lucky.”
The words spread a bloom of pride and desirethrough me. I did look good. On top of being truly sadistic teases,Asia and Tiffany had made me up like I was going to the Oscars. Myhair fell in a volumized cascade of copper curls around myshoulders and down my back, and genius contouring brought outcheekbones I was sure belonged to someone else. The smoky-eye lookand dark mauve gloss made me appear sophisticated and regal.
Like a princess, I supposed.
“I can’t wait to make a mess of you.” Mattchuckled darkly. “Would you like that, princess? Would you like allthis mascara to run, your lipstick to smear?”
I swallowed hard as the pressure of his handaround my throat increased. “Only if you would, my dragon.”
He kissed my forehead and released me. “Goodgirl.”
I stood there on wobbly legs as he went tothe chrome and leather device in the center of the room. “Do youknow what this is?”
I shook my head.
“This is a punishment bench.” He patted thecushioned square on one side. “This is where you’ll lean on yourforearms. Those cuffs will keep you in position.” He pointed to theslender padded bar at the center of the bench. “This will supportand elevate your hips so that I have total access.”
Despite being called a bench, there wasnothing between the armrest platform and the narrow pelvic support.There were footrests, though, stylized stirrups attached to morepadded leather, with restraint straps.
“I’ll be able to adjust your legs,” Mattwent on, moving one of the footrests up. “I can spread you as wideas I want.”
My own breath threatened to drown out thesound of his voice. He patted the leg rest and said, “Climbup.”
I hesitated. It seemed deeply unlikely thatI wouldn’t fall through the damn thing trying to get on it. Mattoffered me his hand, and I took it as I placed a foot into one ofthe stirrups.
“This shouldn’t need much adjusting,” hesaid as he guided me to lean forward. He was right; the armrest wasin the perfect position for me to support my upper body. The paddedbar beneath my hips felt strange, but not bad. I was somehowcomfortableandin the most awkward position of my life.
So far.
Matt ran his hand down my back, his breathharsh through his nose. “Any trouble breathing?”
“No, my dragon.” Well, not because of myposition, anyway. The air on my spread pussy, the anticipation thatcoursed through me, those were the things that took my breathaway.
“If at any time you find it difficult tobreathe or your muscles feel strained, let me know.” He paused,then added darkly, “From the position, I mean. If you’re out ofbreath from screaming or your muscles are strained from coming toohard, that’s a different story.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“I’ve been thinking about what kind of sceneyou might enjoy,” he went on. “You don’t strike me as someone whogets off on pain and degradation for pain and degradation’s sake. Iwant to try something tonight. I want to see what a good girl myprincess can be.”
A thick strap fell over my lower back, andhe cinched it up tight. I could tell the Velcro was strong from thesound it made as he gave the strap a tug to test it. I was anchoredto the pelvic support firmly, but it felt like I could wriggleaway, if I wanted to. When he added the straps around my calves, Iknew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Wrist,” he ordered, and I inched my forearmforward. No straps, here; he closed a set of shackles connected tothe bench with short chains around each of my wrists and steppedback to admire his work.
“Perfect,” he said, and put a hand under myjaw to lift my chin. “You look perfect like this.”
I flushed with pleasure and instinctivelylooked toward the mirror. He was right; I looked damn sexy with myass up, back arched, ready for him to do whatever he wished to me.He went to the side table and picked up a paddle. My heart ratesped up. He put it back down and moved on to a tasseled whip,giving it a test stroke against his clothed arm before putting itback. Then, he came to me and held out his huge hand. “Let’s startwith a classic.”
Goosebumps rose on all of my skin despitethe comfortable temperature of the room. I’d never been soimmobilized, so at someone else’s mercy. And yeah, I trusted Matt.I wouldn’t have come to the island if I didn’t. But it was hard toexplain to the primal part of my brain that being tied downspecifically so someone could hurt me was going to be fun. That, Irealized, was apartof the fun. The fear and the trust wenthand in hand. I was allowed to be afraid of this man, thispowerful, strong man who now held me captive, without truly fearinghim.
The adrenaline and dread were aphrodisiacs.As Matt moved slowly behind me, a thrill of terrified desire wentthrough me.
He chuckled. “I can see your pussy clenchingalready.”
I shivered.
“You’re wet.” His fingertip gently traced myinner labia, slipping between them and their external counterpartswhile his thumb brushed along the edges. It was a maddening tease.I couldn’t even lift my hips to get accidental contact with myclit. He withdrew his hand and said, “I want you to count while Ispank you.”