Training With Bondage

Book 3 of 'The Humiliation of S'

Stephanie must be crazy. How else can anyone explain why she keeps surrendering to the clutches of a dominating alpha male who she knows doesn't love her?

She needs to be tied up, humiliated, and edged without knowing release before she finally learns to finally let go of him.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

"Don't move unless I tell you to," he said simply as he grasped the thick ropes in his hand. I couldn't help but wonder how he was going to tie me up.

Unquestioningly, I stood still as each piece of rope was bound across me. At first, I stared at him and watched how he expertly tied the knots around my body, but my focus is soon diverted to the way the ropes felt as they were wrapped around me.

I could feel each fiber of the rope against my skin, every intake of breath making the rope dig in just a little deeper, then loosen as I exhaled. Instead of feeling panicked, I got calmer and breathed deeper as he wound the rope over my wrists and ankles, keeping it tightly around my body, but with loose bits that hung from it. I knew he wanted to tie me to something but didn't know what exactly.

He took more and more control of my body with each layer that he added, and my flesh belonged to him. It was no longer about what I was ready to give, but how much. He pushed me forward until I was leaning against something soft, my stomach pressing against the cushion. I looked down and saw a flat, thin surface in front of me, only about a palm's width wide.

He tugged the rope on my left ankle to indicate I should move it. I hesitated for a second, and then complied.

Without saying a word, he bound my hands with ropes to the bars on the mechanism he had placed me onto. He bent me over and tied me legs spread apart, with a good four feet between them.

The silence rang in my ears and I knew I should feel uncomfortable, but I was oddly calmed by the ropes bound around me. The lack of choice made me free unencumbered.

I was leaning against a long cylindrical cushion with four legs, each holding one of my limbs, trapping me.

My wrists and ankles were tied firmly to the legs of the odd furniture, making me look as if I was offering myself to whomever decided to come into the room.

There was nothing graceful about my position, but that didn't matter.

The inability to move my hands and legs trapped me in the position. I was afraid that if I struggled, I would fall off the contraption completely. I couldn't see him as he stepped behind me, but I could feel his warm breath against my skin.