Page 53 of Compulsion

I manage to obey, but my hands are still shaking with the force of the adrenaline coursing through me. I want him so desperately that my swollen sex aches to be touched, but I’m compelled by his will.

A sense of lightness floods my mind, and my thoughts float away. There are no insecurities, no worries about whether or not my body will accept him. There’s no room in my world for anything other than his control. He has claimed ownership of me, but I’ve never felt freer than I do in this moment.

He strolls around me, taking me in from every angle. I hardly breathe, determined to obey and remain still for him to admire at his leisure. I feel exposed but safe. No one will hurt me while I’m in Dane’s care.

No one but him.

He’s promised to make me suffer, and I eagerly await the absolution he will offer me.

I feel his heat recede further, and I barely resist the urge to turn so that I can see where he’s going. My teeth worry my lower lip, and my fingernails bite into my palms in the long seconds that pass without his nearness.

Just when my anxiety begins to reach a fever pitch, his hand spans my lower back.

I jolt, and he shushes me gently.

His hard body is behind mine, and his corded arms encircle my waist. “Give me your wrists.”

I lift my hands in offering, and he loops hemp rope around them. His movements are quick and efficient, and in less than a minute, my wrists are bound together. He holds the length of rope like a leash and uses the tension to force my body to turn. I spin in the cage of his arms, and suddenly, I’m trapped in his glittering emerald stare.

He’s almost a foot taller than I am, but I feel even smaller in his imposing shadow—as fragile as a wren captured in his elegant hand.

He keeps me pinned with his imposing gaze as he tugs on the rope, pulling my arms upward. When they’re fully extended above me, he loops the length over the wooden beam of the canopy. Another short tug forces me to stretch until I’m almost on my toes.

His chuckle rumbles with dark amusement at my predicament as he ties off his work, leaving me bound and naked except for my black cotton thong. He takes his time to study me, as though I’m not even a person. I’m a pretty thing for him to admire, a work of art that he possesses to view whenever it pleases him.

The sense of being objectified should be shameful, possibly even offensive. But I’m molten for him, my entire being burning for more of his cruel attention. As long as he’s looking at me, I have value. Without his imperious gaze on me, I would be insignificant: a cheap replicated print not worthy of notice.

But he’s looking at me as though I’m his coveted masterpiece, his most treasured possession.

“Exquisite,” he praises, and I sigh in bliss.

I’ve been so enamored with him that I didn’t notice what he placed on the bed before he bound me. He reaches past me to pick up the cane, and my stomach flips.

He touches the cool rod to my belly, using it to pin my bound body to his front. His erection presses into my ass, huge and insistent.

I writhe—equal parts need and fear.

“Are you scared yet, Abigail?” His dark question ruffles my hair as he practically coos into my ear.

“Yes,” I admit on a tremulous whisper. I don’t dare lie to him when I’m in this vulnerable position.

“Good. Pets should fear their master’s retribution. And you’ve more than earned mine.” He touches my inner thigh, and his fingers swirl in silken wetness. “You love the fear. You love being at my mercy, my pretty plaything.”

“Yes.” I release the affirmation on a shuddering sigh: a confession offered up from the deepest, darkest part of my soul.

He nuzzles my hair and inhales deeply, as though he’s breathing in the scent of my wanton arousal.

“I’m going to hurt you now. Do you trust me?”

“I do.” It’s an oath, and I let my head fall to the side, further exposing my throat to his teeth. “I want you to.”

They graze my artery as he commands, “Beg.”

“Please hurt me.” My plea is little more than a desperate whimper. My inner thighs are wet with my arousal, and my clit pulses in a painful throb.

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead and pulls away. Cool air closes over my exposed body, and I shiver in anticipation. My heart flutters against my ribcage in rapid beats—a bruising promise of the pain that is to come.

He’s behind me now, and my upraised arms are like blinkers on either side of my head. I can’t see him without twisting my bound body, and I can barely maintain my balance as it is. So,I remain perfectly still, taut as a bowstring. Apprehension and desire coil my muscles tight, and sweat beads on my brow as though I’m enduring physical strain.

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