I’m tempted to jokingly ask him if this is the point when most girls run away, but something in his demeanor and the atmosphere of the room keeps me quiet. This isn’t a place for jokes or light-heartedness. This is a room for exploration. It’s a place for reaching into the darkest of sexual desires and shining a light.
Logan stands near the center of the room, feet wide in a powerful stance as he turns to face me. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, pacing from side to side, never letting his eyes leave me. “I recall the way you watched the woman at Club Crave. The one who was being fucked by three men. She was hanging from straps a lot like these, wasn’t she?” he moves to a table and lifts three long leather straps with metal loops at either end.
I nod. “Yes. She was, Sir.”
“I think you would look good strapped to my ceiling, don’t you?” He moves toward me, dragging one of the leather bindings behind him and picking up some kind of cushioned cuff with the same type of metal ring on the end.
I flinch backwards. Part of what was going through my mind when I watched the woman in the club was amazement that she would let herself be put in such a helpless position. Being bound by strips of silk to his bed was one degree of helplessness, but being suspended from the ceiling… that’s a whole different level.
“Take off your clothes,” he says. He drops the cuff and the strap at my feet, turning to gather the rest of the straps and cuffs, and I’m afraid to see his reaction if I haven’t already followed his orders by the time he turns back around.
I strip out of my dress quickly, kicking the white cotton panties I wore down with it and unhooking my bra before tossing it to the ground. I shove the whole pile to the side with my toe. I’m completely naked and he’s fully clothed. The air is comfortable in his play room, but against my bare skin it feels just chilly enough to tempt me to cross my arms. He steps toward me and I can’t help noticing how much more in control he seems when I’m unclothed in front of him. I feel like a plaything, something prized. It’s a good feeling, in a dirty sort of way.
He lifts one of the cuffs and meets my eye. I catch the meaning of his look immediately. He’s giving me another chance to back out. He’s reminding me that the whole point of this is for my pleasure, and if I’m too uncomfortable to try, all I have to do is walk away.
I stare back into his gaze and raise my arm, offering it to be fastened with one of the cuffs. His face shows no expression as he nods, fastening cuffs to both my biceps and my thighs just above the knee. He steps on a small footstool and fastens one end of the straps to the ceiling and then adjusts the length of the straps until they are a little shorter. “Come here,” he says.
I step toward him, finding it a little awkward to walk with the somewhat bulky cuffs around my legs and arms.
“You’ll have to hook them to yourself once I lift you.”
“Okay,” I say nervously.
He lifts me carefully, almost tenderly, taking me beneath the knees and under the arms like a child. He makes me seem weightless as he lifts me a few feet off the ground until I can reach the straps and fasten them to my four cuffs. He carefully lowers me until he’s sure the cuffs are all fastened correctly and then he lets go. I feel all my weight settle down and distribute through the cuffs. I’m surprised when it’s not uncomfortable. I could actually imagine taking a nice, cozy nap in this thing.
But given the current circumstances, I’m as far from sleep as I can possibly be. My pussy is wet with anticipation, and Logan paces around beside me, getting something ready I can’t quite see. I’m about three feet off the ground and my legs are spread slightly. It feels like I’m lying in a hammock, but I have to slightly engage my stomach to keep my back from sagging. The harnesses do the rest of the work, holding me up by the legs, arms, and back. There’s enough slack for me to move some, but any significant movement is restricted. If Logan were to walk out of the room right now, I’m not sure I could pull myself up with enough strength to unhook myself. I would be trapped.
My stomach turns a little to think of how much trust I’m putting in him, but the throbbing need in my core overwhelms that. I need to just let go. I need to be uninhibited for once. I need to enjoy this.