Page 55 of Knife Volume 2

But eventually breakfast was over, and it was time for the rest of their day.

He’d planned to bind her into the next pose as soon as they returned from their run, but the punishment had altered his plans.

He removed the wrist and ankle cuffs, quickly created a restrictive chest harness that ballooned her tits out, bound her hands into a strict reverse prayer, and connected her wrists to the chest harness.

When he’d installed the hanging pot contraption over the island to expand their storage, he’d anchored it specifically so he could use it for bondage scenarios. He took his shoes off and jumped up on the island, secured a rope to the hook at the top, and then jumped down and tied the circle to the bottom of the rope.

“On the island, my naughty little property. On your stomach.”

He helped her up, and she spun around and went to her stomach as ordered, without even a tiny hesitation. Progress.

Her hair was still in the ponytail, and he wound the rope around it, braiding it in tightly so it would hold, and tied it off to the circle. This pulled her head up and back, straining her arms more in the process, and she gasped and fought to figure out how to breathe in this new position. Her bare breasts were already turning a little blue, trapped by the chest harness, and he made a mental note to run upstairs for some clamps.

More rope at her ankles, and then he lifted them and connected them to the circle as well. Finally, a rope from the circle, around her throat, and then down to her wrists. It wasn’t possible for her to choke herself dangerously, but she’d have to strain to keep her head up and back in order to keep it from being tight on her throat.

“No words unless asked a direct question,” he reminded her, and then he got to work on today’s project, making ginger beer.

It didn’t take long to make the ginger syrup, and he could already scent the strain settling into her body, the deepening ache in her shoulders and spine, the way her arousal kept spiking every time she tried to shift and couldn’t. It was a heady combination.

He set the syrup aside to steep, prepared the marinade, put the steaks in, and slid them into the fridge.

He cut the potatoes and onions, dumped them into the slow cooker, and added butter, some beef broth, fresh rosemary, and a touch of thyme. He shredded some sharp cheddar into it, stirred it, and breathed it in. He might not be a trained chef, but he thought he could hold his own.

He went upstairs for the nipple clamps and a small flogger, brought them down, and flogged the fuck out of her breasts a while, smiling at the way they jumped, at her heady gasps and yelps.

Her scent was all over the place, which was exactly right for this pose. Arousal, exhaustion, and so many different kinds of pain, they all bled into each other.

He tortured her nipples a while, twisting and pulling, went back to flogging them, and was a little disappointed when the timer went off to tell him the ginger syrup had steeped long enough.

He clamped her breasts and went back to work, straining the syrup, juicing the lemons. He didn’t want her to get bored, so he fed her a wedge of lemon and then kissed her adorable, puckered face — both cheeks, and then a peck on the lips.

Once he had the lemon juice and yeast added, it was time to siphon it into his four dozen flip-top glass bottles so it could properly ferment.

He finished an hour and a half later, and her breathing was more strained, with the scent of her pain beginning to override her arousal. Perfect.

He ran his palm down her arched spine, over the curve of her ass, and slid a finger into her slick pussy.

Just one. In and back out.

Because he could.

He considered how to handle the next two to three hours, and went upstairs for the earplugs, noise-canceling headphones, and blindfold.

Once he had her sealed into silent darkness, he set the timer on his phone for two and a half hours, and settled on the sofa to work his way through the map on the video game he’d been battling with for weeks.

He’d knocked walls out while creating storage and space, so he could easily see her in his peripheral vision, and when the game went to a cutscene and the characters talked, he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself lazily, eyes flicking between the screen and the beautiful, helpless woman forced into a severe back-bending O on his kitchen island.

He could scent a different kind of pain about thirty minutes before his timer went off, so he paused his game at an opportune place and told her, “Permission to ask for what you need.”

“May I please use the bathroom, Sir?”

Chapter 23

Knife saved his progress and went to her, working fast to release the ankle ropes first, but he slowly settled them onto the table. He cut the ropes tying her head up and gently settled her torso onto the table, rather than fighting with the braid. They’d deal with it later.

It took another two minutes to release her hands and remove the chest harness, and he gently helped her sit up, then stand.

“Go out back,” he told her, voice intentionally calm. “You have permission to pee outside. Grab some tissue on the way.”