"You'll always act tough."
"Fair." She raised her arms, wrists to the padded restraints, and looked at me with the violet contacts swimming and the real brown eyes underneath them wide and waiting. "Do it. And don't be gentle about it. Gentle makes me itchy."
I secured her left wrist first. The cuff closed with a click, snug and unyielding, and I gave the chain a test pull that forced her arm taut against the frame. She sucked in a breath. Her chest strained against the leather bustier and a bead of sweat tracked down her sternum and disappeared into the cleavage the outfit put on obscene display.
Right wrist next. Same treatment. Now she stood spread against the X-frame, arms locked overhead, the leather doing nothing to hide how her body had already started responding to the loss of control she'd spent her whole life fighting for.
