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my softness. “What you should do,” he said, with pointed emphasis and a sharp slap to my lace-covered ass, “is speak when you are spoken to.”
    My teeth worried at my lower lip. His finger stroked me there, in calm reassurance. Relax , he seemed to say. I’ve got you.   And this time, probably for the first time, I believed him.
    He got on his knees in front of me and patiently wound the rope around my ankles. When he was done, I tested for range of movement. Nothing pinched, nothing pulled, but I also couldn’t move my legs apart. The process was repeated just above my knees, securely binding them together as well.
    I cocked my head to one side, wondering what he was up to. With the way I was tied, legs pressed together, he was going to have a really difficult time fucking me, which was an incredible pity. I really, really wanted him to take me. Hard and fast, his cock doling out its own punishment.
    In shock, I realized I was actually fantasising about this. I needed to see what submission felt like, when offered freely to a partner that I trusted. When I wasn’t a slave, beaten and coerced into compliance. When it was Alexander to whom I surrendered.
    He got to his feet unhurriedly and moved behind me in silence. I kept quiet, my chest rising and falling with each breath I took. The diamond glistened in the valley between my breasts. I wanted to remind Alexander once more that he should probably put it somewhere safer, but I refrained from speech. My Dominant had wanted me silent and I would obey. I needed to.
    “Hands behind your back,” he said. I obediently laced them behind me and his skillful fingers wound rope around my wrists and just below my elbows.
    I was well and truly helpless now.
    Alexander took a step back and surveyed me with a grin. “Now,” he said, “we can begin the punishment.” He guided me towards the bed and helped me lie down. The position was awkward, my tied hands preventing me from lying flat on the bed, but I didn’t care. His hand closed over my bra-clad breast and that was the only thing that I could pay attention to.
    If this was punishment, he could punish me every single day.
    Each rough touch sent a thrill of delight through me. He pulled at my nipples, through my bra, then when he grew impatient, he pushed the fabric aside and pulled my aching breasts free and lowered his mouth on each nipple, biting, sucking, kissing, loving. I couldn’t hold back the moans; I couldn’t stop writhing around on the bed. I heard him growl as he watched my body move on the mattress. “Do you like that, cherie ? Do you like waiting for your punishment?”
    I made a whimpering noise that was half-assent, half-protest.
    “Come,” he said, settling himself more securely on the bed and pulling my body till I lay across his lap, ass up in the air, arms bound so that I couldn’t reach back and stop him from spanking me.
    But I didn’t want to stop him. I ached for the feel of his hard palm against my ass. I wanted to feel the heat rise on my skin, the sharp pain fading into a slow burn. I yearned for him.
    Not yet. He liked me to wait. His hand traced firm strokes over my skin.  I felt his fingers tease the bottom edge of my panties, slide beneath the lace to touch my flesh. Then he tugged at the waistband, and the gusset of the panties tightened against my pussy lips. “So wet,” he growled. “Do you know your panties are soaked, cherie ? Do you like lying across my lap like this?”
    I could feel his erection against my lower belly. His desire inflamed me. Emboldened me. I shifted so that I would rub against him and when I spoke, my voice had a tone in it that I hadn’t heard before. I sounded like a woman who was secure with being wanted. A woman who wasn’t afraid of being the object of this man’s desire.
    “Yes Sir,” I breathed. “I like being wet for you. I like knowing you are hard for me.”
    He caressed my lower back. “Ah, Jenny. With you lying across me this way,