Chapter 84

Sinead felt like her skin was on fire and ice cold at the same time. It was puckered in goosebumps, arms and legs, and God did her nipples feel hard.

And he’d barely done anything yet.

The feeling of control from her using the Safe Word he’d asked her for had been ... powerful. Strangely. His hand on her, the thing she’d kind of been (embarrassingly) craving had sent shivers through her, and then as he’d brought it higher, and closer ... And she’d said it at the last possible moment, and he’d stopped.

The reality was that he could ‘prove it’ easily, but ignore it later. That was just logic and Sinead had heard plenty of sad, frustrating stories from women mixed up in ugly domestic violence cases saying, ‘But he promised... ‘

And still, for all that this thing went against her logic, she wanted it.

His eyes on her as she’d stripped had only been fuel for the fire in her. And when she’d finished, standing in front of his mirror as his eyes travelled up and down her front and back equally and she’d hooked her fingers behind her to try and stop from fidgeting, she knew fidgeting would have led to her touching herself.

She was fucking horny.

But Sinead was glad she’d waited because then Marc had touched her.

His hands were the perfect combination of soft and rough. He’d touched her before - hell, he’d made her come with his fingers and his mouth before, but knowing this was going further heightened things. Her nipples were rock hard. Her pussy was wet and she wouldn’t have been surprised if it literally dripped when he teased it with just the tip of a finger along each labia.

Then he’d had her undress him, and she’d done it like some servant girl or something. And it made her feel ... she couldn’t describe it. Hungry, but more than that. And he was almost fully hard already, proof that he wanted her. Proof that revved the hunger in her gut that finally, finally her fantasy was going to be fulfilled.

The handcuffs had sent tingles through her. And again, he showed her that even though she was going to be restrained, she could get out. They weren’t like her service handcuffs - though they were just as sturdy. They had a rubberized interior that cushioned the bite into her wrists, and they had a little latch that would release them in an emergency.

He picked her up and placed her where he wanted her on the bed, her arms over her head as he fed the longer-than-usual chain through what she’d thought was a decorative loop in the headboard. It lifted her arms over her head and up, but he also made sure she had pillows under her shoulders so that while her arms would probably ache after a while she wasn’t being tortured.

Then came the bar.

“This, ma petite rebelle, is a spreader bar,” Marc explained as he came back from the closet with it. It was maybe three and a half or four feet long and had round clasps at either end. “It attaches like so.” He looped the clasps around her ankles and clicked them into place, one after the other. The bar immediately made her spread her legs, which was obviously the point, and other than bending her knees to try and bring her thighs closer together she couldn’t close her legs, which meant her soaking wet pussy was on display to him.

No, for him.

That thought made Sinead gulp a little.

Then he made sure to take the time to show her how she could detach the spreader bar if something unexpected happened. Both with her hands as normal, and if she twisted her legs how one end of the bar would detach from itself and allow her freedom to move.

Then he reattached the bar and knelt on the bed at her feet, giving her that fucking smile of his as he slowly lifted the bar, which raised her legs into the air, until her body was at a full right angle and she was looking at him through the gap between her legs and knew he could see every vulnerable, private part of her. Including the buttplug between her ass cheeks.

Was this how he was going to take her?

“Marc...” she said - actually, she gasped it, and it sounded fucking whorish in her own ears and she didn’t like that but also kind of did.

“Shhh, ma jolie poupée,” he hushed her, giving her another one of his smiles and rubbing the backs of both her thighs before lowering her legs again. She had no idea what that meant, but the tone in his voice was warm and just a little teasing, so she assumed it was some sort of sexual endearment. She still gave him a little glare because he knew it annoyed her.

He got back off the bed and she watched his ass as he walked back to the closet. It almost wasn’t fair that he was older than her and looked that good. She really needed to figure out what his exercise regimen was. Then again, maybe this was part of his exercise regimen.

Marc came back with a black silk length of fabric, and Sinead gasped again as he climbed up onto the bed and straddled her torso, his cock - hard and hot and ready - bounced slightly and tapped her between her tits. But she was busy looking up into his eyes as he continued to smile.

“Now I am going to take away your sight, Sinead,” he said softly, gently gliding the silky fabric across her lips and chin. Why did that feel so ... sensuous?

“You’ve already got me handcuffed to the bed and my cooch out,” Sinead said back, trying to joke about it and hoping it didn’t come across snarky because that ‘I don’t want a Brat as a submissive’ thing had been rolling around in her head. The idea that she could be a ‘brat’ was really off-putting. “Do we really need to do a blindfold, too?”

“Would it be more cinematic if I used a sack instead?” he asked with a smirk. “That is what the criminals use, yes?”

Sinead rolled her eyes. “In the movies, sure,” she said. “But I’m not a dirty cop, Marc. I’ve never had to go to a meeting with a crime lord with a bag over my head.”

He tutted softly, shaking his head, but with that teasing look in his eyes. Then he lowered the fabric down, running it across her neck and shoulders. “Are you asking for me not to use the blindfold, or are you simply tempting me to spank you?”

Sinead worked her jaw for a moment, then shook her head. “Neither. I trust you.”

“Merci,” he nodded, then dragged the fabric up from her chest and positioned it, folded in half, over her eyes. “Removing a sense does not work like in the movies, obviously,” he said. “But it does provide some delightful benefits. It helps you concentrate, and the surprise of sensations ... well, you’ll see.”