The Exhibitionist
Page 36

“Tell the gentlemen your safe words, Abigail.”
“Red, yellow, and green, Master.”
“Very nice. Stand for me, please.”
She slowly stood to her feet. Her breathing had taken on the panting sounds she made when she was aroused, and though her head was bowed, I knew if I looked into her eyes, they would be lust-filled. She enjoyed playing in front of an audience, but just how much she liked it struck me in the chest.
“You’re already so turned on you can hardly stand it, can you?”
“Yes, Master,” she confirmed.
“Going to show these men what a good submissive you are?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I have no doubts, my lovely. You’ve never disappointed me before.”
I could see her body nearly humming with my praise.
I looked over the area she’d set up for our scene. As per my instructions, a St. Andrew’s cross stood in the center of the room. All but a tiny circle of the floor surrounding the cross was covered in sharp points. Not sharp enough to break her skin, but it would be painful if she stepped on them. Not a problem if she could somehow find a way to remain in the small circle.
I would ensure that she couldn’t.
When she moved the ropes between her legs, it would rub against her clit, which I knew she’d like. Being bound with a rope that excited her clit wasn’t new to her, but being bound like that in a predicament situation was.
Once she was bound to my satisfaction, I led her to the tiny circle that was clear in front of the large wooden X. The circle was so tiny she had to stand on her toes. One by one, I bound her arms above her head, allowing enough slack to let her drop to her flat feet if she needed.
Then I turned to speak to the men. “We haven’t done many scenes with predicament bondage, so this is relatively new for Abigail. It’s not going to be comfortable for long being on her toes like that. But if she drops to her feet, she’ll be standing on the sharp pegs. Plus, I’ve bound her with rope in such a way as to provide stimulation with every move.” I turned back to her. “Are the ropes okay? Not too tight on your arms?”
“I’m as comfortable as can be expected, Master.”
He turned back to the group. “Now we could just sit here and watch her, waiting for her to grow tired of standing on her toes. But she can have a bit of a stubborn streak, so I think I’ll provide some incentive for her to move.”
I was willing to bet they thought I’d flog her, or maybe use the cane. But when I went to my cabinets and pulled out a long feather, they laughed. Abby couldn’t see it from her angle, so I moved closer to her.
“Personally, I think it’s a lot more fun to use something other than pain to entice her to move. Of course, she may not agree.” I held up the feather so she could see.
Abby groaned. She probably wished I’d use a flogger; she was incredibly ticklish.
“Are you ticklish?” I asked her for the benefit of the watching men.
“Yes, Master. Very.”
“Mmm,” I hummed. “This will be quite the challenge for you, then, won’t it?”
“Yes, Master.”
“But you like a challenge, don’t you?”
“Most of the time, Master.”
“Only most of the time?”
“My liking of a challenge is indirectly proportional to the amount of bondage I’m in.”
The three men chuckled.
“Is that so?” I asked, and without waiting for a response, tickled her side.
She yelped and twisted, stepping on part of the peg-covered mat. “Ouch.” She moved back into position, but doing so made the ropes shift. “Oh.”
I tickled her again. “Bit of a predicament, wouldn’t you say?”
She only sucked in a breath, but she still couldn’t hold position. Poor Abby was so very ticklish. I took another feather and started tickling her with both.
I ran them down her back, around her waist, and under her arms. Just as I thought, Abby squirmed and danced, trying to get away from one feather, which only sent her into the path of the other. And each time she moved, the rope I’d placed around her clit had to be driving her crazy.
I decided to arouse her even more and circled her nipples while tickling right where the rope rubbed that supersensitive spot.
“You like that?” I asked.
“Oh yes, Master.”
“You know our guests are watching you get turned on by my two feathers?”
“And the rope, Master.”
I tickled her again so it moved against her. “Right, we can’t forget the rope.”
I fell into a rhythm, which allowed her to drift into subspace. Soon, I had her swaying back and forth and before too long, she wasn’t even trying to stay on her toes. Her feet were on the pegs and she moaned in bliss every so often.
“What color are you, Abby?” I asked.
“Green, Sir.”
“Shall I continue?”
“Mmm,” she hummed, and swayed, causing the rope to hit a new spot. “Oh!”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Master.” She sounded dreamy. “If it pleases you.”
I ran the feather down her side. She hummed and tried to get closer. Apparently, that shifted the ropes in a way they hadn’t rubbed before and she sighed and began rocking back and forth again.
“None of that, now,” I chided. “You don’t have permission to come.”
“Verflucht,” she said, which I guessed was a curse word. But she stopped rocking.
I knew she’d start with the German at some point and I wanted to play with her mind a bit. So I glanced to my side and nodded at Cole.
“Watch your language. I know more German than you,” he said.
“Entschuldigung, Herr,” she said in apology.
“I was mentored in Germany by the most badass Dom you can imagine.”
She swallowed a laugh at his accidental reference to the nickname given to him by submissives who’d played with him.
“Let’s just say I know all the German words,” Cole said.
She stopped trying to make the ropes move and went back to gently swaying. I kept her in subspace for a few more minutes and then began tickling her less and less. Her movements slowed and finally, I set the feathers down and unbuckled her arms from the cross. She dropped to her feet with an “Ouch!”