My surrender floods me with hot desire again and I find myself vibrating with excitement. I want to play. I want to resist and be taken. I want to be enslaved; I want to be free. I shake my head a little, offering a token show of resistance, which he easily overcomes. The leather straps are cool against my cheeks and I feel a powerful throb of heat between my legs as he fastens the buckle behind my head. I tremble.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he says soothingly, stroking my cheek as he would a horse’s.
His tone calms me at once and I am immediately reassured. A little voice at the back of my mind tells me I am completely safe, that it’s OK to let go, that there’s nothing to feel self-conscious about.
You’re standing at the door to a fantasy, I tell myself. All you have to do is walk through it.
I do.
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