Chapter 6 - Control
The blindfold hung loose around Lily’s throat. I had pushed it down because I wanted her eyes open for the table.
She stood on the round mirror top in her red heels, one hand on my shoulder while I guided her feet into place. The surface was slick enough to punish a careless step, so I kept my palm firm at her waist until she understood the balance. Legs apart. Chin down. No place to hide from herself.
The mirror gave her the view I wanted her to have.
Her thighs framed the glass. Her pussy was bare in the reflection.
The couch curved behind her like an audience seat, empty for now.
Beyond the soundproof glass, the Cherry Room kept moving beneath us, with no idea how close they were to my wife standing open above them.
Lily stared down and bit her bottom lip. Pride fought hunger across her face.
“You’re sick for making me look at myself like this,” she said.
“You looked.”
“I look expensive as hell up here.”
“You do.”
“And desperate.” She swallowed, then lifted her gaze to me. “My pussy is humiliating me, Haile. She’s begging.”
I climbed onto the table with her and reached above.
The chandelier over the mirror was not there for decoration alone.
I had paid for the steel plate above the plaster myself, had watched the rigging crew test the load until I trusted it more than most men.
Crystal hid the steel plate I had watched the riggers bolt into the ceiling.
The rope waited in my hand. I wrapped it around her wrists, snug enough to make her fingers flex, then drew the line up through the hidden ring at the chandelier’s stem. The rope slid with a soft rasp. Lily watched every inch of it disappear overhead.
Her mouth opened. No joke came out.
“Before you ask for dick,” I said, “prove you understand where you are.”
Her eyes moved from the rope to my face. “And where am I?”
“Stuck.”
She looked a bit confused. Her shoulders pulled back. Her nipples tightened under the red glow, and the spoiled little treasurer who could fire my whole staff or bankrupt me stood there with her wrists lifting over her head.
“Pull,” I said.
She tested first. A small tug. Then a real one. Her arms strained downward, heels pressing harder into the mirror. The chandelier did not tremble. The rope held her high and clean.
Again, harder.
Her breath left through her teeth. “Haile.”
“Pull.”
She yanked until her body bowed and the muscles in her stomach showed. Nothing gave. The line kept her where I had put her.
Her eyes flashed at me, furious and wet. “You really locked me up here.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t get down unless you say so.” She tugged once more, weaker now, and the helplessness made her voice rough. “That’s what you wanted me to feel?”
“You look so sexy,” I said.
She went still at the praise. Not because she was calm. Still because she wanted the next order.
I stepped down from the table. From below, she looked taller, displayed above the room in her heels with her wrists drawn high. The mirror showed the underside of her thighs and the shine between them. I took the loose end of the rope and brought it around her hips.
Under the counter, the vibrator waited where I had left it.
Lily looked down and saw it in my hand. Her laugh came out thin. “Of course.”
“You fired my men again,” I said.
“They flirt with every server in the building.”
“They work for me.”
“They look at me.”
“Everybody looks at you.”
Her jaw tightened. She loved the attention. She loved to walk through my club in a skirt short enough to start problems.
I slid the vibrator between her thighs and set it against her clit.
She jerked against the rope. The device had a small hook at the top.
I threaded the line through it, then wrapped the rope around her waist, cinching the toy snug until her hips had nowhere to go without dragging pleasure across the nerve.
Lily’s head tipped back. “You bastard.”
“You want it moved?”
“No.” The answer came too fast. She glared down at me as if I had stolen it from her. “Don’t you dare move it.”
I tightened the last pass at her hip. The rope pressed into her skin, holding the vibrator flush. She shifted her weight, and the toy nudged her exactly where she needed it.
Her lips parted. “That thing is right on my clit.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to make me stupid.”
“That would be new.”
She tried to kick me. The rope stopped her before she got range, and the failed attempt rubbed her harder against the vibrator. A sound broke out of her, low and angry.
I let her have that lesson.
“Swing your hips,” I said.
She looked down at the mirror again. The woman below her looked wrecked already, blonde hair loose around her face, wrists bound overhead, cunt spread by her stance. Lily moved her hips in a shallow circle. The vibrator stayed pinned. She did it again, slower, and watched herself grind.
Her cheeks colored. “Don’t make me watch this.”
“You already are.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
She closed her eyes. “No.”
The word was not agreement. It was surrender.
I circled the table once. Lily followed the sound of my shoes, turning her head when she could, wrists held above her like the room had claimed her.
The red couch almost circled the mirror.
Empty seats faced her from every angle. Below the glass, the club kept drinking and dancing.
From the outside, the VIP room’s tint would reduce us to shapes, but a woman tied on a table did not need detail to become a rumor.
At the base of the stairs, my crew had gathered.
They had seen Lily fire them. They had heard her cut them down with that rich-girl mouth and my last name behind it. Now they looked up at her silhouette and understood the difference between my wife’s temper and my permission.
No jealousy. No fear. Men could want her until their mouths went dry. Want did not make them my equal. It proved the value of what belonged to me.
I pulled the blindfold up from Lily’s throat and set it over her eyes. The black silk covered her lashes. I tied it tight enough that she felt the knot, then brushed my thumb under her chin.
Her voice lowered. “Now I can’t even see who’s watching.”
“You do not need to see them.”
“Are they down there?”
“Yes.”
Her lips pressed together. She wanted to curse me. She wanted to ask if Viccy and Spice were watching too. I could see the question in the way her mouth trembled around her pride.
I lifted the remote and pressed the arrow up.
The vibrator went to second gear against her.
Lily bowed hard, wrists pulling at the rope. “Oh, fuck.”
The soundproof glass kept the room private, but the table carried her movement. A heel scraped the mirror. Her hips searched for pressure, found it, then lost it when the rope checked her.
I turned the dial higher.
Her body snapped forward against the line around her waist. “Yes. Haile, yes. Right there.”
I watched her fight for rhythm. She was used to owning a room. Now she had no sight, no hands, no way down. She had the rope, the toy, and my voice. Soon she would have witnesses.
My watch showed the minute I had chosen.
I put the remote in my pocket.
Lily heard the movement. “Where are you going?”
“To bring them up.”
Her head turned toward me, blindfolded and sharp. “You’re leaving me tied on your table with that thing on my clit?”
“Yes.”
“And the whole damn club gets my silhouette while you stroll downstairs?”
I stepped close enough for my voice to touch her better than my hands. “You wanted me to act like your husband.”
She pulled at the rope. The vibrator answered for her. “I wanted you possessive.”
“This is possessive.”
Her mouth opened, and this time no insult saved her. “Haile.”
“Problem?”
She swallowed the moan before it could win. “If you make me come before they get up here, I’ll never forgive you.”
“You will.”
“Fuck you.”
“Keep working those hips.”
I left her on the table and opened the door.
The booming sound of the club reached me. Behind me, Lily cursed once, then moaned when the rope made her pay for moving. I pulled the door shut and let that sound stay in the room with her.