Page 98 of Breaking Free

“Do a few more,” he directed, as he made preparations, lowering chains from the ceiling and adjusting the lighting. “Concentrate on your shoulders and the backs of your thighs while I get a few things ready.”

Piper did the shoulders rolls he taught her, and crossed-arm stretches in front and behind her back, holding each for ten seconds. The sound of metal latches drew her eyes from the onlookers—up to about fifteen now—to Tristan at what looked like a leather-bound pirate’s chest. When he flipped open the lid, inside were spools of rope, both natural and in a rainbow of colors. After he cut several lengths of the undyed jute he preferred, he slipped his safety scissors into his pocket.

He got to his feet and moved in her direction. She remained motionless, her mind blank except for the rope in his hands which would soon be wound around her. His raised her chin, hisdiscerning gaze searching. She knew what he was looking for—signs of panic.

“I’m ready, sir,” she said before he could ask. It was a bold statement, considering her racing heart, but it was from excitement and determination as much as dread. She could do this. Moreover, she needed to. The purpose of her being here to face and overcome her fear. For him at least. She wanted to experience everything she could with the rope master.

Tristan lightly caressed her cheek, softly murmuring, “That’s my brave girl,” which was the best panic eliminator in the world. “I’ll check in with you often. You have a safeword, but before it gets to that, don’t be shy about speaking up. If anything pinches or starts tingling like it’s falling asleep, I need to know.”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to the faces outside the station.

He moved between her and the audience, his broad shoulders blocking them out completely. “They’re only background. Your focus should be on me, and my commands, and the feel of the ropes.”

“I’ll try to remember, but it won’t be easy.”

“I could blindfold you to help you focus, but that wouldn’t help us accomplish our goal. Neither does your dress.” He slipped the thin straps off her shoulders and tugged the slippery fabric over her hips. It fell with a soft swish to her feet.

“You may keep the panties tonight, but don’t get used to it.”

His warning of thingsyet to comeshould have penetrated more, but a sudden increase in chatter, sounding as if the crowd had doubled in size, drew her attention away. He caught her chin again. “Where is your focus supposed to be?”

“On you and your ropes, sir.”

He nodded, the warmth of his fingers a fleeting sensation on her cheek before he released her and turned to address the crowd. When he spoke, the aura of command resonated to those gathered, silencing the murmurs and chatter in an instant.

“Welcome to what I like to call shibari 101. If you’ve been around the club for a while, you’ve likely seen this demonstration already. It won’t hurt my feelings if you pass on seeing it again.” There was a ripple of laughter, but she noticed none of them left. “My rope bottom tonight is Piper. She’s new to BDSM. Please be understanding if she’s nervous and be respectful per the membership rules.”

As he wound rope around her upper body with practiced precision, Tristan gave the same brief history of Japanese rope bondage she’d heard before. He also explained step by step what he was doing, his emphasis on safety.

A quick glance beyond the lights of the station told her the crowd had swelled. They were in shadows, and she couldn’t count the precise number, but at least fifty sets of eyes were upon her.

She breathed in.You can do this. The female body is a beautiful thing. Every woman has butts and breasts, just in different sizes. No biggie.

Tuning out the bustling crowd, the music, and the various noises from neighboring scenes, she narrowed her focus solely on Tristan. Not a hard task, exactly. His whispered instructions were meant for her ears alone as he guided her with a self-assured hand. The friction of the rope against her skin, the purposeful pulls as he skillfully tied his knots, awakened her senses. Her nipples became taut, and, whenever he brushed them with his forearm or body while working, her skin erupted in goose bumps.

“Are you with me, Piper?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied. “I understand why people find this relaxing.” And arousing, although she kept that to herself for now.

“The feel-good chemicals are flowing, I see.” More loudly, he once again addressed his audience. “This body harness is calledthe butterfly. It’s an excellent base tie to build upon. I use it often because it’s comfortable for lengthy sessions, and the series of knots in back gives me several options for anchor points, making it ideal for suspensions.”

He grasped her shoulders, gently turning her and allowing them to see his work. His warm breath caressed her neck. “Open your eyes, Piper. You must see what everyone else does. How breathtaking you look bound in my rope—like a priceless work of art.”

Eager to see, when her eyes flew open, she sucked in a shocked breath, her image reflected in wall-mounted mirrors she’d failed to notice. The harness he’d crafted with such ease was beautifully intricate and proved his skill, but what Piper noticed most was how it framed her generous curves, making her feel more exposed than simply being naked. The rope encircled and intertwined around her body, at her chest, ribs, and waist. Subtle yet firm pressure squeezed her breasts, salaciously presenting them as the constriction made them swell. More rope ran over each shoulder, while the knots that interconnected it all traced a path vertically along her spine.

He ran a finger along the double strand above her breasts. Though he didn’t touch her, she watched his slow deliberate movement, appearing so erotic her nipples tightened more, standing out like rosy bullets.

“What do you think?” he asked, slipping the same finger between her breasts and under the rope, testing the tightness.

When she looked up, he stood behind her, his eyes locked on her reflection, admiring but also awaiting her answer. He really overestimated her, expecting she could think, much less carry on a conversation. But she gave it her best shot.

“I, um...it’s...a little shocking,” she admitted hesitantly.

“Only because it’s new to you. How does it feel? Is anything too tight?” As he spoke, he checked each line, twist, and knot, assessing her skin with meticulous attention.

“It’s snug, but not overly so,” she answered with a hitching breath.

His gaze reconnected with hers in the mirror as his hand stroked her throat, fingers pausing over her pulse point. “Your heart is racing. How’s your anxiety on a scale of one to ten, one being naptime and ten, you’re running screaming for the door?”

---