Page 99 of Resist

He beams at her praise even though he’s a dominant himself.

“I’ve asked him to tie you to this chair so I can have my way with you. He’s going to sit over there in case something goes wrong with the rope. He’s taught me how to use the scissors to release the knots if I need to, but I’d rather he stay on hand just in case. He’s more likely to notice something’s off than I am. Is that okay with you?”

It’s like all my dreams are coming true at once. I nod.

“Words, Sterling. Use them.”

Fuck. My balls ache already. It’s like the last week or so hasn’t happened. Boss bitch Corabelle is standing in front of me, staring at me like she wants to eat me. And I’m going to let her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Safe word?”

“Pickle.”

Slade grins. “I like it. Hands behind your back.”

It takes a long time for him to tie me to the chair. Hands behind my back, a sturdy harness across my chest and torso, an intricate pattern of pretty knots at both of my hips creating a ‘V’ of rope at my crotch.

He ties a knot under my balls making a triangle of rope around my cock, and then splits the rope into two to tie my legs to the legs of the chair.

When he’s done, I’m so hard I’m leaking, and I’m so calm my muscles are all soft. There’s something peaceful about ropeplay, I can see why Corabelle wanted to try it. I didn’t see her sit, but she’s hiked her skirt up and she’s fingering herself as Slade ties me down.

Jesus Christ. I jerk at my arms and legs, I need to go to her, I need to be the one touching her, making her cheeks and chest flush like that. But she grins at me when my binding stops me from moving.

“Perfect,” she coos.

“You good with the blindfold?” Slade’s voice is gravely, calm and low. It’s clear he’s here to help and supervise Corabelle, he’s her tool, an implement she’s using to get what she wants from me. It’s hot as fuck.

He jerks his chin at my crotch. “She can’t help you with that if you just sit there silent and don’t help us move this along.”

I clear my throat, trying to shake images of what’s about to happen to me out of my brain. “Yes. I’m fine with a blindfold.” What’s more, my friend, and boss knows that. But one of the things you learn when you join Club Protocol is that every scene should be like the first scene.

Something I didn’t really stick to with Corabelle, but I’m not going to confess my sins to Mister Protocol while I’m strapped to a chair with my balls exposed.

He points to a chair a few feet away, silk, black blindfold dangling from his fingers. “I’m going to be sitting there. I need to keep an eye on you for the sake of safety.” His lips curl into a smirk. “Not that it’ll be a hardship.”

He’s hard in his pants. He reaches behind him and produces another pair of shears. “I have these in my hand too. I know what to look for. You’re safe, and we’ve got you, okay?”

I wasn’t scared before, and I’m certainly not now. There’s a reason he’s the owner of the club, the one to teach new hires on the staff, on the dungeon monitor team beforethey get anywhere near me. He’s the father figure, the protector. He’s lived through enough mistakes to help us try to avoid them before we make them.

If Slade’s in the room with you for a scene, the risk may be a little higher, but so is the reward and the level of security with which shit’s going to go down.

There’s no anxiety in my muscles, no tightness in my chest, just easy flowing oxygen, and sexual tension brewing in my balls.

“I’ll put that on.” Corabelle’s voice rings out loudly and crisply in the air between us. She appears in front of me, cups a hand around my throat and kisses me so fiercely she robs me of my breath.

Her tongue plunges into my mouth, clashing with mine in a fevered hunger as her nails sink into the skin of my throat.

A sound catches in the back of my throat as she straddles me, mounting my helpless body, and grinding her pussy against my already weeping cock. “So ready for me.” She slides her talon-like nails through my hair, scratching at my scalp as she tugs my head backward. “Such a good Kajirus, aren’t you?” She bites my shoulder, the same place she did the first time.

This time’s harder, like she’s done playing, like she’s not simply biting me, but branding me, claiming me.

An unhinged growl from me sounds garbled as she rolls her hips adding to the building pressure in my body. She gives me a wild-eyed grin as she slides the blindfold over my eyes.

She skims her cheek against mine as she moves toward my ear. “Enjoy it, darling.” She rakes her nails down my other cheek, neck, and chest, navigating the binding rope holding me down. Her nails tickle, then scrape, then claw, the sensations heightened by the loss of my sight.

There’s a moment of silence before something slides acrossthe table. There’s a click, hopefully of the lighter to start melting the wax.

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