The pin wheel criss-crosses her belly.
The sensation, electric, tingling, sharp, dangerous, makes the muscles dance beneath her skin. She moans as its stinging path begins to move towards her sex. She tests the bindings that secure her arms above her head. She can twist her upper body but the door at her back limits her movement. The spreader bar at her ankles keeps her legs parted, immobile, and stops her escaping from the cruel, wonderful spikes.
She wonders momentarily what she is doing here in this anonymous hotel room at the admittedly slender and expert hands of an almost stranger. She only knows him as a poet, a seducer with words, a master of the heart. She has read his dark writings and knew what to expect.
Except that she could never have imagined how she would feel. Naked, vulnerable, aroused, and utterly adored. In a way she had never been before. She feels sensual, decadent, and brave. She feels like a sacrifice, a goddess, a slave. For as long as this lasts, she will be utterly his and, despite the fear that makes her shiver, she feels strangely safe.
Most of all she feels extraordinarily beautiful.
She gasps as the teeth of the wheel run up and down her thighs. She loses count of the journeys it makes before the pressure softens. She thinks she knows where it is going next.
There is a silence. Seconds tick away. The air is heavy with expectation, She can barely breathe.
She needs. She aches. Her entire skin is alive with desire.
She knows he will do everything. She wants him to do everything. Everything she has imagined. Everything he has ever written. Everything she has ever dreamed.
She wants … everything.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photo by RothermRebeka