Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

“Maybe it’s time you went down to Scarsdale to collect your things,” he eventually suggested, keeping his tone light.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ve been a coward, avoiding that particular confrontation. But I do need to retrieve my portfolio, no question about it. If your offer’s still good regarding the van…”

“Absolutely,” he assured her.

He swiveled on the stool and leaned toward her, catching the scent of jasmine and orange. Keeping his tone casual, he ventured, “Want to check out that new bondage sling with me?”

She swallowed visibly, not immediately responding. Then, with a sudden, bright smile, she said resolutely, “Sure. I’ve always wanted to try one of those.”

Eric left a healthy tip on the bar and rose to his feet. Hoisting his gear bag up from the floor, he placed his hand lightly on Rowan’s shoulder. “Let’s go see if the room’s still available.”

~*~

Rowan followed the trainer through the club, feeling considerably more relaxed than she had before he’d arrived. She’d been silly to have kept her plans from him. He was a professional, not some random horndog hoping for a hookup.

They stepped into a narrow hallway that had four rooms—two on either side. He stopped in front of a door with a large number three painted on it. There was a clipboard affixed to the door, with a pen dangling from a chain. According to the directions at the top of the sheet, if the space was free you could sign up for a thirty-minute slot. The room appeared to be unoccupied at the moment, the door ajar.

“Cool,” Eric enthused. “It’s free.” Taking up the pen, he signed up.

They entered the small room, about ten square feet. A beautiful black leather bondage swing was front and center, hanging from sturdy chains attached to a ceiling beam. Rowan’s body instantly yearned toward the restraint device. She’d seen swings like this online, but had never personally experienced one.

She glanced from the swing to Eric. He looked good in a black knit shirt, the quarter-length sleeves accentuating his muscular forearms. She’d always been a sucker for strong forearms. He wore black jeans over worn but well-cared-for black boots.

He dropped his gear bag to the floor and gestured toward the swing. “It’s a nice one, isn’t it?” he asked conversationally.

“It’s gorgeous,” she agreed, taking another step into the room.

“Want to try it out?” he suggested.

Rowan hesitated, unsure. She very much wanted to try out the sexy bondage swing. But what if she had some kind of PTSD reaction?

Again, she reminded herself that Eric was a professional. In the brief time they’d known one another, he’d won her trust both as a trainer and as a friend. If he thought she was ready to get back into the scene, why continue to doubt herself?

“Yes,” she agreed staunchly. “I absolutely do.”

There was a small step stool in the corner of the room. Eric brought it over, setting it down in front of the swing. He assisted Rowan as she climbed up and into the apparatus. She settled herself against the smooth, cool leather with a sigh of pleasure.

What was it about leather against her skin that felt so right? She closed her eyes, inhaling its scent as she settled into the supportive sling back.

“To experience it properly, you need to slide your legs into these stirrups,” Eric said, causing her to open her eyes again. “You want to try it?”

“Please.”

She allowed him to slide the thick loops of leather around her thighs, one at a time. The position forced her legs wide apart, and she was glad she was wearing panties. Nudity had never been an issue for Rowan, and Eric had already seen her naked in various positions during her brief training. But something about baring her cunt and spreading it wide for someone’s scrutiny was something else again. Just the thought of such intimate exposure brought heat to her cheeks.

At the same time, her vulnerable position in the snug leather sent a gush of moisture to her cunt and set her clit to throbbing. It felt so good, so right.

“Now your hands,” he said, indicating the leather straps that rose from either side of the chair’s back, also suspended by chains from the ceiling.

She reached back to grasp the straps, noticing as she did the Velcro cuffs attached and waiting.

“Shall I cuff you in place?” Eric asked.

A part of her wanted him to just do it, and stop asking permission. But most of her was glad he did. He was allowing her to set the pace. They would only go as far as she wanted.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

As the cuffs were tightened around her wrists, Rowan couldn’t stop the sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips. How she adored the helpless feeling of being physically restrained. She was now at the mercy of this man, and that realization was thrilling, even though she could change that with a word.