At His Mercy

Part 33 Aya

As I walk into the bedroom the first thing I notice is Adam is stood in the middle of it, low rise jeans and bare chested. The breadth of his chest, narrowness of his hips and the ripple of muscles in his forearms make my mouth go dry. His face is deceptively calm and expressionless. his head is tilted down toward his hands -at the silk tie wound around his palms. Gradually, he lifts his gaze and moves his attention from his own hands to look up at me. Hooded, it's a measured look that is neither threatening nor challenging nor warm, but a mix of all three. A look of assured confidence and authority. He wants me to submit to him without even asking. Holding my gaze as I walk towards him. Slowly, I lift my wrists out in front of me.

From this angle, when he looks down at me, I feel his power over me. I tilt my own head downwards focusing on his hands winding the tie around my wrists. His hands are all muscle and veins and I admire the strength there. He once told me he was a hockey player and attributed the grip in his hands and arms to it proudly. He weaves the material in and out, around, over and under, till the ends are secure. I close my eyes enjoying the sensation of the silk against my skin. There is little leeway in the grip of the material. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I resist the urge to touch his chest and feel the muscles bunch under my fingers . Instead I wait for further instructions.

I stand in the middle of our bedroom as Adam disappears back into the dressing room. My nipples stand to attention immediately, partly from anticipation, partly from the cool air of the air con. I look at the bed, its been remade and the room is spotless. The door is locked, I notice. Beside the table there is a flask of cool water.

I sense Adam coming back into the room, rather than hear him. I turn my face to the side, to address him. 'Adam' I say in a raspy voice, which doesn't even sound like my own.
He comes to a stand still behind me, the heat radiating from his chest.
He places his hands on my shoulders, squeezes gently and then moves them up to my neck. His fingers meet in the middle and he hold me there as if creating a collar, grazing my jugular with his thumb and I suddenly feel acutely aware of my own shallow breathing and racing heart. Slowly, I count to ten and focus on levelling out my breathing, forcing myself to breath deeper. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Lateral breathing like the pilates instructor showed me last year. It helps to ease the tension and makes me feel a lot more calmer.
Then my world is plunged into darkness. I feel the material go around my eyes. Adam ties the material behind my head.
In one quick motion, I feel like I'm being lifted up into his arms. The movement is disorientating. And I lean into Adam's chest helplessly. After being lowered to my feet I feel Adam's hands on my shoulders as he uses his palms to press me down. I'm not sure if I will fall backwards as I take a step back, I feel what I assume is the bed at the back of my calves. Instinctively, i want to place my hands beside me to feel where I am about to sit, but my hands are tied in front of me. Cautiously,I sit back.
I sense Adam step closer and then feel something hard and cool against my chin as it tilts my head upwards.
From within the darkness, I am looking up at him. I try to imagine his facial expression- will be be smiling or serious?
What feels like stiff leather, possibly a crop, moves along my jaw line and then behind my ear. I feel it in my hair and shiver at the thought of him striking me with it. What confuses me is that the thing touching me is wide and flat.

A Paddle. The thought pop's into my head. He's going to spank me? The thought is not totally abhorrent. I sit up straighter, chin a little higher.

With one hand, I feel the pressure of Adam pushing my shoulder, till I'm on my back lying on the bed, then I feel him hook his fingers into the restraint and lift my hands above my head. When they touch the mattress, I gasp because I suddenly feel I'm being dragged up the bed.
Then it's quiet. I wait to see what will happen next. I try to listen for him, to hear, where exactly he is. But it's difficult because it is suddenly quiet. Then the sound of Ludovico Einaudi fills the air: Nuvole Bianche. The first few cords make my heart ache. my breathing becomes more laboured. I flex my fingers in an attempt to release the tension that has gripped me.