Joe proved better at keeping silent than I. The lift clanked to a halt. He lifted me in his arms again and carried me down a long, quiet corridor. My neck ached from trying not to let my head rest on his shoulder. We must have made quite a picture - he in his suit, I in my black velvet bonds. Someone gasped as we passed, but did not try to stop us.
I could have cried out then, made it clear I was being held against my will. For a moment, the possibility excited me. Adrenalin surged through my veins. But I did not act to save myself.
This was Joe's first victory.
'Good girl.' He nuzzled the baby-fine hair at my temple. 'Now you begin to understand.'
I did struggle then, but silently, and it was too late anyway. Ignoring my squirms, he shifted me to free one arm. Seconds later, I heard a door open. He set me down inside and closed it. My struggles died. I waited, bound hands clasped before my sex. The door shut. The bolt turned. A silence fell. I imagined I could feel the weight of Joe's eyes as clearly as I felt the weight of the slave collar.
Watch me then, I thought, my skin twitching with awareness. Watch me and weep.
He circled me with slow, measured footfalls. As he did, the leash cinched under one breast and over the other. A pulse beat in my nipples, tapping my skin from the inside out. Because I refused to give way, the leather bit into my arm, crossed my back, and trussed my other elbow to my side.
The circuit complete, he covered my breast with his hand, squeezed, then smoothed a burning path up my neck and over my jaw until he reached the blindfold. His fingers brushed the edge, stroking both velvet and skin from my cheekbone to the bridge of my nose. The gentle touch spurred a soft explosion in my groin. Warm, creamy pleasure spread outward from my core, up my belly and down my thighs. I pressed my lips together to still their trembling.
'You've been good so far,’ he said, his voice another caress, 'and I know you don't like having your eyes covered. Shall I reward you by taking this off?'
He did not wait for my answer but eased the blindfold away. I blinked. I knew this place. We stood in a penthouse suite at The Four Seasons hotel.
No other hotel commanded such a view. The Swarm fountain in Logan Circles plashed beneath the veranda and in the distance, at the end of a long grassy stretch of Benjamin Franklin Parkway
, I spied the 'Rocky' stairs at the museum. I'd put up a few business contacts here, ones I wanted to impress. I knew for a fact it cost two hundred a night, and that was for a standard room. Lord only knew how much this suite cost.
Probably enough to buy Joe a lot of privacy.
He knelt before me, untied my ankles and pulled off my trainers. I don't know why, but I immediately felt more vulnerable. As he rose, he untangled the leash and wrapped the end around his wrist. 'Now you can walk like a proper slave.'
I tried to laugh but it came out strained. He spoke without melodrama and with utter, unshakable confidence. My mouth closed on my pitiful attempt at mockery. When he tugged the leash, I followed.
The plush navy carpet could not steady my shaky knees. He led me past a well-stocked bar, an alcove with a built-in library, a formal dining room, and a bathroom big enough to host an orgy. Then we entered the bedroom.
The bed itself was huge. Like the rest of the furniture, it was an eighteenth-century American reproduction, carved of good quality mahogany with shells and eagles forming the primary motifs. Solid head-and footboards framed either end. It struck me as a particularly serious bed. I pictured Joe lying naked on the navy counterpane, his cock dark and hard, his muscles drawn tight with anticipation. I would straddle his narrow hips, take him delicately in hand and lower myself. He would moan as I swallowed the crown. He would -
My daydream broke. Something gleamed on one of the pillows. Something that shouldn't have been there -a pair of tailor's scissors.
What did Joe want with those? What could Joe do with those? Unless he'd changed more than I believed a person could change, he didn't have a physically violent bone in his body. But the scissors were there, cold and sharp, and they had to hold some threat. Troubled, aroused, and not wanting to be either, I forced my eyes away and found an image of peace.
A large picture window, curved to follow the hotel's distinctive U-shape, overlooked the sea of greenery around the courtyard cafe. People would be gathered beneath those trees, enjoying the late summer sun, drinking a tall cold one after work - innocent pleasures.
I sighed at how inviting it sounded. If things had been different, Joe and I could have sat down there. We could have held hands across the table and gazed into each other's eyes. Painful as it was to admit, I wanted that stupid, bourgeois fantasy. Except maybe, just maybe, I wanted this, too.
'Pretty, isn't it?' Joe said, then grabbed me and tossed me on to the bed.
Before I could regain my balance, he pulled a tie from his pocket and lashed my bound wrists to the eagle at the centre of the headboard.