“What’s this?”
“Nipple clamps—that’s for both.”
“Both? Nipples?”
“Well, there are two clamps, baby. Yes, both nipples, but that’s not what I meant. These are for both pleasure and pain.” I take them from her. “Hold out your little finger.”
She complies, and I clamp the clip to the tip of her finger. Her breath catches. “The sensation is very intense, but it’s when taking them off that they are at their most painful and pleasurable.” She removes the clip. “I like the look of these.” Her voice is now husky, making me smile.
“Do you, now, Miss Steele? I think I can tell.”
She nods and places the clips back in the drawer. I lean forward and remove another set for her consideration.
“These are adjustable.” I hold them up to demonstrate.
“Adjustable?”
“You can wear them very tight, or not. Depending on your mood.”
Her eyes move from the clamp to my face and she licks her lower lip. She pulls out another toy. “This?” She’s intrigued.
“That’s a Wartenberg pinwheel.” I pop the adjustable clamps back in the drawer.
“For?”
I take it from her. “Give me your hand. Palm up.” She does, and I run the spiky wheel over the center of her hand.
“Ah!” She gasps.
“Imagine that over your breasts.”
She snatches her hand away, but the quick fall and rise of her chest reveals her excitement.
This is turning her on.
“There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, Anastasia.” I place the pinwheel back in the drawer.
She’s looking at the other contents. “Clothespins?”
“You can do a great deal with a clothespin.”
But I don’t think it would be your thing, Ana.
She leans against the drawer, closing it.
“Is that all?” This is turning me on, too—I should take her downstairs.
“No.” She shakes her head, and, opening the fourth drawer, she retrieves one of my favorite devices. “Ball gag. To keep you quiet,” I inform her.
“Soft limit.”
“I remember. But you can still breathe. Your teeth clamp over the ball.” Taking it from her, I demonstrate with my hands how a ball gag fits into a mouth.
“Have you worn one of these?” she asks, curious as ever.
“Yes.”
“To mask your screams?”
“No, that’s not what they’re about.”
She cocks her head to one side, perplexed.
“It’s about control, Anastasia. How helpless would you be if you were tied up and couldn’t speak? How trusting would you have to be, knowing I had that much power over you? That I had to read your body and your reaction rather than hear your words? It makes you more dependent, puts me in ultimate control.”
“You sound like you miss it.” Her voice is barely audible.
“It’s what I know.”
“You have power over me. You know you do.”
“Do I? You make me feel…helpless.”
“No,” she counters, shocked, I think. “Why?”
“Because you’re the only person I know who could really hurt me.”
You hurt me when you left.
I tuck her hair behind her ear.
“Oh, Christian. That works both ways. If you didn’t want me—” A tremor runs through her and she gazes down at her fingers. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I love you.”
She strokes my face with both her hands and I savor her touch. It’s both arousing and comforting. I drop the ball gag back into the drawer and fold her in my arms. “Have we finished show-and-tell?”
“Why? What did you want to do?” Her tone is suggestive.
I kiss her gently and she presses her body against mine, making her intention clear. She wants me. “Ana, you were nearly attacked today.”
“So?” she breathes.
“What do you mean, ‘so’?” I feel a rush of annoyance.
“Christian, I’m fine.”
Are you, Ana?
I pull her closer, squeezing her. “When I think of what might have happened—” I bury my face in her hair and breathe.
“When will you learn that I’m stronger than I look?”
“I know you’re strong.” You put up with me. I kiss her and release her.
She pouts and to my surprise reaches down and fishes out another toy from the drawer. I thought we were done? “That’s a spreader bar with ankle and wrist restraints,” I tell her.
“How does it work?” She looks up at me through her lashes.
Oh, baby. I know that look.
“You want me to show you?” I close my eyes, briefly imagining her shackled and at my mercy. It’s arousing.
Very arousing.
“Yes, I want a demonstration. I like being tied up.”
“Oh, Ana,” I whisper. I want to. But I can’t in here.
“What?”
“Not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you in my bed, not in here. Come.” I take the bar and her hand and lead her out of the room.
“Why not in there?”
I stop on the stairs. “Ana, you may be ready to go back in there, but I’m not. Last time we were in there, you left me. I keep telling you—when will you understand? My whole attitude has changed as a result. My whole outlook on life has radically shifted. I’ve told you this. What I haven’t told you is—” I pause, searching for the right words. “I’m like a recovering alcoholic, okay? That’s the only comparison I can draw. The compulsion has gone, but I don’t want to put temptation in my way. I don’t want to hurt you.”