Page 170 of Terms of Exposure
He chuckled as I tried for a nod.
"If anything feels wrong—numbness, tingling, sharp pain—you tell me immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, Master."
"What are your words?"
"Mercy, Master. And salvation, Master."
A wicked grin curved his mouth. "Then it's time."
I closed my eyes as tension spread through the ropes, the lines tightening until they groaned.
A cry tore from me when they bit into my skin.
Then my breath hitched.
My thighs lifted from the ground.
Then my stomach.
And finally the tips of my breasts.
The room tilted as I rose higher, Damien's belt coming into view. With the little mobility I had left, I looked up at him through my lashes.
His face was all concentration as he checked the lines again—the level, the knots, the tension in the ropes.
Looking for weakness.
Finding none.
A smile spread slowly across his mouth.
"Eyes on me," he said softly. "Give me your name."
"Emma," I whispered.
"Stay present," he ordered. "Let me know if anything hurts."
My back curved deeper into the arch. The ropes cradled me like hands, supporting every curve.
My body vulnerable.
Completely exposed.
He took a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets.
I felt the cool air caress the aching, wet heat between my thighs.
Too much.The flesh, the gravity.Too much.
I closed my eyes, willing the embarrassment away.
"Look at me," he said softly.
I forced them open.
He stood before me now, positioned so I could see him without straining against the rope securing my head.
