Page 51 of The Good Girl Effect
He seems to read my mind, leaning closer to knot the rope at my upper thigh. “I want you to feel what it’s like to give up control. There is something about the leg binding that is more intense than the arms. Perhaps because you can’t get away. Or because it makes you truly rely on me. Do you sense how different this feels?” he asks as he continues wrapping rope in circles up to my bent knee.
As I nod my head, I wish he’d look at me. Being tied in this position makes me even more vulnerable. I wish I could express to him just how much I love this, like slipping on a perfectly fitting dress.
I have a feeling my next letter to him is going to be more detailed than the last two.
He doesn’t speak anymore as he begins looping the rope in the strands already wrapped around my legs. It’s clearly a move to secure the binds. Testing the knots, I try to extend my leg, and it won’t budge.
Chills cascade down my spine at that sensation.
He works in silence, and it’s obvious by the slow, steady way he moves that he enjoys this. I have my silly doodles, and he has this. The signs of his tension from work are all gone.
When he tucks what is left of the rope into the crease between my thigh and calf, I wait for his next move.
His hands drifts softly over my leg as if he’s admiring his own handiwork. The words that leave his mouth next have my heart practically jumping into my throat.
“You look beautiful like this,” he whispers.
There’s a pulse between my legs as I let his compliment sink in. Unable to stay quiet for another second, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“I wish I could show you off,” he adds.
“Show me off? Where? How?”
Sitting back on his knees, he lets out a sigh. His lips quirk with a crooked smile. “Curious as always. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I nod energetically. “Yes.”
The thought of being shown off by him sends a thrill down to my core. Not only the idea of being so admired and treasured but also for people to know that I belong to him…it sounds incredible.
His fingers find my face, dancing gently down my jaw. “I’d cover you in rope and put you on display like my own little masterpiece.”
I nod again, although he didn’t ask a question.
“If we could have a session at the club, would you come?” he asks.
Yes, yes, yes, I think, conveying it with yet another head nod.
He chuckles. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you? I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Warmth floods my body all the way from the top of my head to my core. When he looks at me like that, like he truly sees me, it’s exhilarating. Every moment with Jack is like cracking open another thin layer. I’m still miles away from the real person hiding under there, but every day, I get a little closer.
But I wish I could tell him that I am afraid. I’m afraid of ending up alone. Of feeling stuck again. Of falling head over heels for him and having my heart broken. I’m always afraid—I’m just too reckless to show it.
“I’d like to bind your other leg too,” he says, stroking the back of his hand along the left thigh.
I nod my head, assuming he’s looking for consent.
As he works on the other leg, I know that we have definitely gone over an hour, but he doesn’t seem rushed or annoyed to be here. He’s settled in close to me as he works, wrapping, looping, and tying until both of my legs are immobilized.
I’m well aware that the more tied up I am, the more aroused I am. I know he won’t, but God, I wish he’d take advantage of me in this position. Force me to my back and use my body for his own pleasure while I can’t move.
I start fidgeting on the floor, just thinking about it, and I don’t even notice until he says, “Hold still.”
He steadies my leg by holding my knee. There’s more to bondage than sex, I know that from my research, but my experience so far is that they go hand in hand. Or perhaps that’s just Jack’s effect on me.
A man who craves control has full control over me. And yet the more control he has, the more I see him losing it. It’s evident in everything he does, even when he doesn’t realize it—his lust-filled gaze on my chest and between my legs. The evidence of his arousal last night as he pressed his hard length against me.
My excitement isn’t because of the ropes alone—it’s because ofhim.
