Page 169 of Terms of Exposure
"Good girl."
But still the first touch of rope against my skin made me gasp.
It was warmer than I expected, softened by his hands, the fibers gliding in confident, patient strokes. He circled my chest, bands wrapping under my breasts, crossing between them, cinching around my ribs.
"Breathe," he reminded softly. "Any pinching? Any sharpness?"
"No," I breathed. "Just tight. Good."
His eyes snapped to mine. "Too tight?"
I shook my head.
He checked again anyway.
"This will take your weight," he explained, pulling on the chest harness. "Everything else just shapes the position."
He moved to the table, gathering another coil.
"Lay. Stomach down. Hands by your sides."
I obeyed, the cushioned rug soft beneath my stomach.
"Knees soft," he said.
I obeyed, holding myself still as he folded my legs into a gentle bend and wrapped rope around them—thighs to calves—drawingthem into a compact hobble. I felt my balance shift, my center pulled inward.
"Good," he praised. "Now for your hands."
He gathered mine in his larger ones, folding them behind me, guiding each hand to its opposite elbow. "Stay like this."
Another whisper of rope through his hands and then I felt it around my wrists, tying my arms together in place behind my back.
"Perfect," he said, almost to himself. "Exactly what I need."
The ropes slid and tightened until I was fully bound. My arms were secured behind my back, fastened to the chest harness, leaving no room to move. My legs were anchored the same way, each line drawn tight.
Damien's fingertips traced the harness once more, checking tension, then I felt it. The final rope. The last piece of the puzzle.
"This is what lifts you," he said, voice low as my body quaked, his arms jerking my body as he secured the rope tight.
"One last thing," he said.
His footsteps stopped in front of me. He reached for my braid, lifting my head with a firm pull. My neck protested as my gaze was forced upward to meet his.
A second tug—and I was locked in place.
Bound. Immobilized. Only my fingers and toes still free to twitch.
"Tell me your neck is okay," he said, voice controlled. "Breathing clear?"
"Yes, Master," I confirmed, breath shaking but steady.
"Good. If that changes, you tell me immediately."
He dragged his index finger up the exposed length of my throat. "Are you ready, my love?"
"Yes, Master," I confirmed.
