Chapter Eighteen Bound
JAYCE
Sutton gazes up at me, chin raised and expression determined. I try not to latch onto her request too quickly, telling myself she doesn’t really know what she’s asking.
“Sutton, I don’t think…”
“Jayce.” She cuts me off in a firm voice. “I’m serious. I want you to show me what it is you enjoy. You won’t scare me.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You say that now.” Still, the chance to explore her submission is almost too tempting to resist. “Are you sure? I need you to give me clear consent for us to move forward.”
“You have it,” she says without hesitation.
The corners of my lips twitch, but I school my features so as not to give away just how pleased her confident answer makes me.
Part of me thinks I should resist this harder.
Should insist she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.
However, Sutton is a woman who knows her own mind, and I’m not going to insult her by doubting her decision.
If I show her what I want—what I need—and she doesn’t want to participate, we’ll go back to simply being friends and co-conspirators. Nothing more.
“All right,” I nod. “Then come with me.”
Turning, I continue on toward my bedroom. I don’t look back to see if she’s following me, but I hear her soft footsteps moving across the floor behind me.
I don’t stop at my bedroom door, however, and continue on to the room right next to mine.
My playroom. It rarely gets used since I frequent the club, but having the dedicated space helps keep things in my life more compartmentalized.
I let my hand hover over the doorknob for half a second before I push it open and step aside, letting Sutton walk in first.
Warm light spills across the hardwood floors, catching the deep gray of the rugs and the dark wood posts of the bed.
The four-poster bed is huge, with sleek, modern lines.
No carved details, nothing dramatic. The frame is thick and reinforced, designed to look like luxury furniture when in reality, it’s functional in other ways.
The built-ins around it blend seamlessly into the posts and base, hidden anchor points disguised as decorative hardware.
No one who didn’t know what to look for would notice them.
Sutton steps farther inside, her gaze roaming over the space. The bed, the matte-black nightstands, the wall of bookshelves opposite the windows.
“Your room is…very you,” she says softly, a smile pulling at her lips.
“Yeah?” I lift a brow. “It’s not my room. It’s my playroom.”
“Oh!” She looks surprised, then intrigued, her gaze sparkling with curiosity. “Well, your playroom is very you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
I walk to the shelf wall, stopping in front of the center section. “This is what you were hoping to see.”
Her eyes widen in curiosity as I reach under the bottom shelf and press the recessed button hidden there.
The entire center wall clicks softly, and the bookshelf with the TV glides forward an inch before sliding sideways, smooth and silent.
Behind it, the hidden paneling lights automatically, washing the narrow space with a soft amber glow.
Sutton inhales sharply.
I step back, giving her room to study the hidden compartment as thoroughly as she likes.
Built-in shelves line the secret alcove, each one meticulously organized, displaying leather restraints in different styles.
Rope in cotton, jute, and nylon. Wrist cuffs.
Spreaders. A few impact toys hanging beside them in perfectly spaced intervals.
A couple vibrators and dildos, as well as anal plugs and beads.
Her breath catches again, this time louder.
“This is…quite the collection,” she murmurs, stepping forward and running a hand over one of the silk ropes.
“Before anything happens,” I say in a low voice, “we need to set a safe word.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I step closer, but I don’t touch her. Not yet.
“Didn’t we have one?”
“That one was for when this was just a one-night stand,” I explain. “I want you to choose one that’s more personal. One you’ll definitely remember, even if things get intense.”
At length, she swallows and asks, “So, are you, uh, going to hit me and stuff?”
A fair question, given some of the equipment hanging on the wall next to us.
“Not tonight,” I tell her. “Impact play isn’t really the main focus of my enjoyment. Just an additional element to bring into play when a scene calls for it.”
“So, what is your main focus?”
I reach past her and run my fingers down a length of cotton rope. “Bondage. Particularly, Shibari.”
“Shibari?” Her brows shoot up in surprise. “What’s that?”
“Japanese rope play,” I explain. “Actually, if I’m being technical, I practice kinbaku.”
She frowns. “What’s the difference?”
“Shibari is a term that technically means ‘to tie’, and can be used to describe any binding or restriction. Kinbaku is more…intimate. Erotic. Emotional.”
She takes a sharp breath. “And you’re into that? Tying people up?”
I nod. “Yeah, I am.”
Her eyes shimmer with growing interest. “What do you enjoy about it?”
A loaded, complicated question. How do I simplify it?
“I enjoy the control,” I answer slowly. “The total surrender of my partner to bind them how I see fit. There’s a lot of trust that goes into the practice, as well as skill.
It’s an artform in the proper hands, and it’s meditative.
The repetitive motions. Tracking the rope.
Making sure the tension is right. It keeps you very present and connected with your partner. ”
It’s about the most connected I ever feel with someone, temporary as it is. I experience so much satisfaction when I wind the ropes around a woman’s body, creating knots that aren’t merely functional, but beautiful.
She appears thoughtful for a moment. “So, you’re not necessarily into pain?”
“Only if it intensifies your pleasure.” I hold her gaze, needing her to understand before we continue. “What I want is for you to trust me to take care of you. To hand over full control to me, knowing that my one and only goal is your satisfaction and safety.”
Something flashes in her gaze. Excitement, maybe? Eagerness?
Desperation?
“And I need a safe word.”
“Yes, you do,” I nod. “If and when you use it, everything stops. Immediately. No questions. I will also have safety scissors within reach the entire time so I can free you quickly if need be. I promise, Sutton, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
She swallows. “I can use the safe word, and everything stops.”
“And you don’t need a reason to use it,” I add. “You don’t need to justify anything. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. Your comfort is the rule. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I step a little closer. “Pick one.”
Her brows knit. “Like… any word?”
“Any word you wouldn’t say by accident,” I explain. “Something that will clearly communicate to me that you want things to end.”
She bites her lip, thinking for a long moment. “Pirouette.”
I smile softly. “Good choice.”
Reaching past her, I select a cord of rope, a cotton-hemp blend that’s soft and holds knots well.
It also leaves long-lasting marks without being painful or scratchy, so I’ll see the remnants of my work on her even after we finish here.
That thought has heat burning through me, shooting straight to my cock. My marks on her. Mine.
It’s intoxicating.
She watches me, eyes gleaming with anticipation, tinged with a bit of nervousness. I reach my hand out to her. She gazes at it a moment before taking it and letting me lead her to the bed.
“Take your clothes off,” I order gently.
I step back and watch as she grabs the bottom of her sweater and slowly pulls it up and over her head, revealing her taut stomach and perfect, black lace-covered breasts.
Fucking perfect. That’s all I can think as she continues to undress, undoing her jeans and sliding them down her long, slender legs.
Looking at her, it’s no surprise she was a dancer. Her body is lean and graceful, though she isn’t without curves. They’re more subtle than other women I know, but they’re soft and the fact that her breasts can fit perfectly into my hands without spilling over is rather satisfying.
Remembering the feel of my hands cupping her soft tits has me clenching the rope tighter, eager for her to strip off her bra.
“Keep going,” I tell her when she pauses.
Holding my gaze, she unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the floor.
I stare at her breasts, so perfect and perky with their blush pink nipples and I clench my jaw as desire shoots through me and has my cock straining against my jeans.
She slips her panties down her legs and kicks them away, then stands straight, her shoulders back, completely naked.
Her cheeks are bright pink, but her gaze on me is unwavering.
“Climb on the bed.”
She does as she’s told, and I love how obedient she is. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. When she kneels on the edge of the mattress, I cup the side of her face and brush my thumb along her cheek.
“You’re such a good girl,” I murmur, noting how her breath stutters and her chin rises just a bit more at the praise. “Lie back for me.”
Her breathing grows heavy and she relaxes back onto the bed, putting herself on full display for me.
I set the rope next to her. “We’ll keep things simple this time. Easy positions. Simple knots. I want you to get a feel of what it’s like to be bound and get used to the sensations before we get too elaborate.”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, totally unprompted, and my cock hardens fully. Fuck, does she know what she’s doing to me?
“Remember your safe word.”