Zach and I went to the pleasure palace, formerly known as the fuck-pad, to explore. To relax, I had a few glasses of Royal DeMaria Icewine and a couple of shots of Perfect Angel.

“Are you nervous?” Zach asked, kissing my neck.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Don’t be, baby—I promise I won’t hurt you. Do you believe that?” he asked, lifting my chin so that my eyes met his.

Looking deeply into his gorgeous eyes, I answered, “Yes, I believe it.”

“Good, baby. Good girl. Now you do know that the foundation of what we are consenting to is trust—complete trust. It’s knowing that I won’t intentionally harm or inflict any pain on you. The moment you utter the safe word, I stop immediately, no questions asked. Do you trust me, Abigail?”

“I’ve trusted you, for some strange reason—given my past—since day one, when you took control over this hand here.”  I locked my left hand with his right hand, and continued, “You refused to let it go. Do you remember that?”

Kissing my hand, he smiled and said, “How could I forget that, Abigail? You made me very happy that day. You could’ve pulled your hand away from me, but you chose not to. And do you remember me stroking your wrist and lower arm like this?” It was the same sensual way he had stroked my arm that day in the conference room. It made my blood rumble again, and my pussy started melting.

Smiling and biting my bottom lip, I nodded, uttering, “Mm-hmm!”

He pushed me back on the couch and was quickly between my thighs with both his hands on either side of my face.

Grinning, he said, “Oh, baby. You know how turned on I get when I see you with your bottom lip in your mouth, clenched beneath your teeth. That gesture, to me, says you want me so badly. I get excited knowing that.”

I kissed his soft, luscious lips and responded, “I know, baby. It brings out a seductive, impish look on your face and in your eyes that makes my body scream for you. I get all wet, and it takes my breath away.”

He put his strong hands in my hair, gripped tightly, and kissed me with a desirous hunger. He moaned and grew hard against my heated pussy that was longing, aching for him.

“Mm, baby. Are you sure you want to do this?” he panted, referring to the role-playing.

“Yes,” I moaned, immediately and unhesitatingly.

Standing up, he looked down at me and said, “If you’re sure about this and you trust me, take my hand.”

I placed my hand in his and stood in front of him with a wide smile.

He slowly peeled off my clothes, taking in and teasing my body as he did so. Sternly he said, “Don’t forget the safe word. OK, love?” I nodded, and he countered, “Open your mouth when I talk to you. Do you understand me, Ms. Winterfield?”

“Y—yes,” I stuttered, looking at him intensely.

“Good girl. Now show me your hands, palms up.” I put my palms in front of me, and he quickly secured my wrists with a set of Black Label Esse cuffs.

Oh, God, he looked so sexy with that devilish look on his face. I always loved when he was so controlling and dominating in the bedroom—it turned me on so much. I bit down on my bottom lip again and sighed deeply.

“Good thoughts, I suppose?” he asked, walking behind me.

“Mm-hmm,” I answered, following him with my eyes.

Slap!

“Ouch!” I cried. I hadn’t been expecting that. Fuck! That must’ve been Palmer’s evil twin, Palmero.

He had slapped my ass far harder than ever, and it left a long-lasting sting. I turned to face him, and he quickly blindfolded me with a lace sash. The last glimpse I had of Zach was him devilishly beaming with a zealous expression that could only be described as him seemingly happy to finally being back in his element.

Who the hell is that man? He obviously likes this more than he let on. Bit off more than you can chew, huh, Abigail?

“That…was…a…warning,” he said darkly.

If that was a warning, then how the hell does punishment feel?

“Good thoughts, I suppose?” he asked again in a more dominant tone.

“Yes,” I answered, getting hotter.

“Good girl. You are a very quick learner.”

Zach led me into the bedroom. There he bound my wrists by both sides of my head to the Black Label Esse. Raised in the air, my ankles were bound to the restraints that hung from the ceiling and the pulley contraption.

           Oh, God. What did I just consent to?