He put it around my other wrist and made me do the same. Then he put both on and, once again, had me release it.
“You can free yourself at any time,” he said. “I will honor asafeword without hesitation. But you have the ability to free yourself.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered.
He pushed himself up and kissed me lightly. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir.” I paused. “This… This isn’t too much, is it? For you?”
“I’ve done plenty of bondage.”
“But not with a sub who’s afraid of it.” I held his gaze. “You can say no, too.”
“I know I can.” He touched my chin and kissed me again. “I’m not saying no. I’m only being careful.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
One more kiss, and then he cuffed me and ordered me to hold the bedpost. I took and released a few breaths. This was it. Though I knew I could escape with just a flick of a switch, the habitual panic swirled beneath my skin. Some irrational part of my lizard brain thought I was actually bound to the bedpost, not just holding it, but I breathed through that primal freakout.
“Are you all right, Jack?” Devon’s voice was soft and smooth with no trace of nerves.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Okay. We’re going to get started.”
He warmed up my skin with a soft flogger smacking my shoulders and my ass. I wondered if he took longer than normal, or if time just warped while I vacillated between claustrophobia and the desire to fly off into subspace. The former kept me too grounded to fly, the latter kept me from panicking.
Almostkept me from panicking.
A sharper slap to my shoulder made me tense, and I unintentionally pulled at the cuffs. When I hit the end of the tiny chain—when the resistance stopped my hands dead—my pulse skyrocketed, and not in a fun way.
Eyes closed, I breathed.
“Jack?” Devon asked, his tone still gentle and even. “Are you all right?”
It took work to swallow, but I managed. “Yes, Sir.” I opened my eyes and gazed down at my wrists. At the short chain stretched taut between my wrists. I thumbed the quick release, my head swimming as the impulse to press the release clashed with the determination to push through.
“Jack? I can take them off.”
“No, Sir,” I gritted out, and moved my thumb away from the switch. “I want this. Please. Sir.”
He was suddenly closer, his body heat warming my naked skin a second before his palm rested between my shoulder blades. “Are you saying ‘yellow,’ Jack?”
I rolled that word around on my tongue as I rubbed the cuff with my thumb to expend this need to hit the switch. The steady pressure of his hand brought my pulse down. His presence, his concern, his reassurance—his invitation to pause or stop. He wasn’t discouraging me from doing this, just encouraging me to lean on the safety rails if I needed to.
“There’s no shame in stopping,” he whispered. “I’ll continue as long as you want, but I won’t push you. Not with this.”
I twisted around to meet his concerned gaze. “Thank you, Sir.” I grinned. “Green.”
Surprise flickered across his face, then desire and approval, and oh, God, I wanted this so bad now. The claustrophobia still itched all over, but Devon being this pleased and aroused was a balm to that itch.
The hand between my shoulders moved to my hair, and he stroked it. “Good boy, Jack.”
Fucking hell. I almost melted to my knees.
He kissed me lightly on the mouth, then traded the soft flogger for a much meaner one. “Are you ready for more, Jack?”
“Yes, Sir.” The words were little more than a ragged breath. “Please, Sir.”