The Enigma [18+]

twelve

content warning: mature content

got you shackled in my embrace
i'm latching onto you

September 19, 2003
|myra dalton|

Myra understood that she would be vulnerable to Dominic Romano's touch from the second she felt the leather cuffs clasp around her ankles, anchoring her to the two posts standing tall at the foot of the bed. Her legs were spread wide. Any attempt at trying to bring them together was met with an ache in her thighs that she didn't particularly enjoy.

Her wrists remained bound by braided rope, a natural material that would surely leave indentations in her skin.

"Relax," Dominic caught her attention after seeing the perplexed look across her face. "What's on your mind, little one?"

She pressed her lips together and watched him remove his suit jacket. Dominic loosened his tie before deciding to get rid of it, tossing it over the leather sofa.

"Hmm?"

"Oh," she snapped out of the trance. "I've never done this before... That's... That's what I'm thinking about, sir."

He made it very clear that rope play could be fatal if done incorrectly. A pair of scissors were kept close, just in case. Dominic explained that he would ask her to squeeze his hand to check-in with her. That way, he would ensure that she wasn't losing feeling or strength in her hands.

As always, he made her feel safe.

And Myra Dalton wholeheartedly put her trust in him.

He opted for a single column knot, and Myra couldn't help to admire it. It thrilled her.

While restraining her, he revealed that he spent years perfecting his technique at a B.D.S.M. club owned by Rafael Falcone in New York City. The President of NYU. His best friend.

She wanted him to take her there, to which he simply responded: Patience, Myra.

Dominic raised her arms, her torso and abdomen elongated uncomfortably as he attached each of her wrists to the headboard. He worked quickly. Expertly.

He admired his work, a proud look plastered across his face upon seeing the white ropes binding her. Dominic checked the knots one last time, making sure they weren't too tight, before he reached for the silk blindfold that she picked out.

Green.

"Close your eyes."

Myra followed his simple command. The soft fabric draped over her eyes before he tied the straps behind her head. Not being able to see evoked a different kind of panic, but his close proximity comforted her.

You're in control, Myra. You control how far this goes. Trust yourself.

Two fingers slipped into her tight fists, her palms clammy with anticipation. She blushed.

"Squeeze... Good girl. Any numbing? Tingling?"

"No, sir."

"What is your safeword?"

A dazed smile spread across her face. "Chamomile."

Dominic kissed her forehead, his burning touch trailing down her sides. "Well, I'm surely going to be late because of you, Ms. Dalton. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I won't apologize for being a distraction," she challenged. "You're supposed to have more self-control than that, sir."

His touch faltered, and he withdrew from her.