Page 93 of Lesson In Honesty

“You’re okay, Sierra.” Fordham commanded her attention. “Nearly done with the first rope, you’re doing so well. Just need you to spread your legs a little wider for me.”

If she moved, she’d fall. Her legs were locked in place, her feet stuck to the carpet that felt so decadent beneath her bare soles, between her toes.

Even as she fumbled with words, hands captured her hips. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Take a step to the left for me.” The pride in Ford’s voice when she shakily obeyed fluttered through her. “That’s it, such a good girl. Now the other one.”

God, she felt so exposed. Heat from the fire kept the room warm and toasty, but as she willingly opened herself to scrutiny, it seemed as though the Masters’ stares were directly between her legs.

“Liam, do you want a plug in this pretty asshole?”

“No, she’s fine.”

That voice again. She tried to lift her arms, to reach for him, but they were too heavy. Everything felt languid and distant, as though she was drowning in molasses. “Master Liam?”

Holy hell, was that her voice? Slurred and hardly more than a whisper?

“You’re okay, minx. I’m right here.” The words in that lovely, familiar tone was a hit of another magical drug pumping through her veins. “Fuck, you’re stunning. All that pale skin and the green… if Ford wasn’t creating a masterpiece, I’d tell him to hurry up so I could show you how much I fucking need you.”

Fingers stroked over her pussy from behind, wrenching a frantic whimper from her. The rope dug into her labia, then came up between her ass cheeks, a hard knot settling over her asshole.

“Think you’ve got yourself a rope bunny, Liam.” Fordham chuckled, stroking her again. “She loves the ropes as much as they love her—she’s drenched.”

A collective groan followed.

“Hands behind your back, sweetheart.”

She gave it her best attempt. “Heavy.”

“Yeah, you’re damn near flying already.” A gentle hand grasped her wrist, easing it to the base of her spine. There was a tug on her cuff, then her other arm was carefully set into place. Another tug, and her arms were bound. “Perfect. Just a warning, Sierra, if you struggle, the movement is going to rub the knot on your clit.”

There was no chance of that happening. It was taking every ounce of control not to simply fall flat on her face and surrender to the floaty, floaty sensations.

The section of rope on her pussy was adjusted, parted to frame her pussy rather than bisect it. Something caught on the side of her clit, buckling her knees with the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“There we go. Liam, Mack, let’s get her up.”

Warm bodies pressed on either side of her, bare skin brushing back and forth against her arms as she was gently hoisted off her feet. The feeling of being hugged intensified a thousand-fold when the ropes pressed deeper into her skin, taking her weight as she was left suspended in the air.

A beard tickled her cheek, accompanied by firm lips. “Don’t fly away just yet, babygirl. Need you to stay here with us for a while longer, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she sighed in agreement.

Another pair of lips, a scratchier beard, on her other cheek. “I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen that night you were on your knees, pixie. That was nothing,nothing, compared to how gorgeous you are now.”

Her head rolled toward Mack’s voice, then simply dropped and hung.

“Liam, can you braid her hair?” Levi asked from miles away.

She began to swing lightly in the harness as hands smoothed up her thighs. More rope began to wind around her left one, starting at her knee and coiling up toward her butt. What seemed like an hour later, her leg was bent up, and the cuff on her ankle anchored it with her heel against her ass.

Fingers combed through her hair as it tumbled around her head, then patiently gathered the red strands and plaited them into a thick braid. “All done, beautiful girl. Is the harness comfortable? Is biting anywhere, pinching?”

She shook her head slowly, enjoying the weightlessness. “Nuh-uh, Sir.”

“Use this ribbon, tie the bottom of her braid to one of the rings on her collar,” Levi directed. There was a pause, then a curt, “No, not that one. The light’s wrong. Try a different one… no, that isn’t it, either.” A hum of approval. “That one. Yeah, tie it there, make the bow a little sloppy, not all neat and tidy. Bullseye.”

The rapid-fire snicks of a camera shutter came from nearby. Her brain recognized the sound, feared it, and gave a valiant attempt at rousing her body from its almost hibernating state.

Warmth came to stand beside her—Liam? Mack? Ford? Someone tested her fingers, her pulse, the snugness of her cuffs. Obviously satisfied, they checked each section of rope, every knot, by skimming their fingertips over her.

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