BindingCherryBlossoms by Gia Dawn Read Free Book Online Page B

so freely
before?”
    Her cheeks grew so hot she swore her mask would melt in
place, leaving her faceless forever. She had already seen him naked, sucked his
cock in her mouth and swallowed when he came. It didn’t get more intimate than
that. If she was going to wallow in embarrassment, shouldn’t she at least wait
until tomorrow…after he’d given her the pleasure he’d promised?
    “What’s my safe word?” Her fingers had already closed around
the zipper of her dress. She slid it down and the dress fell to the floor at
her feet.
    “Cherry,” he said without hesitation as if he’d already
thought of it long before. “I’d prefer cherry blossoms, but that is much too
long to say if you are truly in distress.
    Cherry blossoms. The meaning of her name. He’d
mentioned the blooms before but she’d shrugged it off as coincidence. She
didn’t think she could do it so readily now. But then again the flowers were an
integral part of their cultural heritage, and she couldn’t think of a ready
reason she could not use the word.
    “Cherry,” she repeated. “Perfect.”
    “Yes. It is. And so are you.”
    He had moved to stand behind her and he slid his hands up
the length of her back, stroking her skin until she felt it prickle, her
nipples beading as goose bumps rose all along her flesh. She heard his swift
intake of breath as he cupped her breasts in his hands and rubbed her nipples
between his fingers. The tingle swept down her stomach to lodge between her
legs, sharp and strong and sweet.
    She did not protest as he led her to the bed, pushing her
down on a stack of pillows. She looked up, startled to see herself reflected in
a mirror on the ceiling, not having noticed it before. It didn’t surprise her
that he would want to work beneath the reflective surface so they both could
see and admire his art, but it was odd seeing her reflection, her mask hiding
her features so well it was like looking at another woman entirely. And it
became surreal when her Bakushi began his work.
    She didn’t move a muscle when he retrieved a length of
dark-purple rope, clenching her jaw to keep from asking another stupid
question. Observe, he had told her. Watch and experience the stillness. Okay.
She would do just exactly as he suggested and see which one of them was right.
    But it was hard to hold still when he was leaning over her,
his chest rubbing against hers as he manipulated the rope around her breasts.
And it was even harder not to make a sound when he flicked a nipple beneath his
thumb, keeping her aroused and on edge as he placed her hands behind her back
and tied them close together.
    Now her chest jutted out and her breasts were plumped to
twice their normal size. It was better than a push-up bra, she decided in
delight as she saw the result in the mirror overhead. The color of the rope
blended perfectly with the strands of purple in her hair, which he spread out
across her shoulders and smoothed around her neck like a scarf.
    He could have been a fashion designer, she thought in
admiration, beginning to understand his fascination with kinbaku . For
him it was about the art, the craft, the creation. The ability to take
something as ordinary as a woman and a rope and meld them into something of far
greater beauty than the sum of their separate parts.
    And she began to understand why a woman might crave to be
sculpted by an artist’s hands, seeing a beauty in herself she’d never before
envisioned.
    Her musings were cut short when he sat back to survey his
work, reaching out to take both nipples, pinching and rolling them between his
fingers until they swelled and turned nearly the same rosy tint as the cherry
blossoms in her mask.
    Sakura writhed against her bonds, unable to move, even when
he bent his head to take one ultra-sensitive peak into his mouth. He sucked
eagerly, scraping his teeth across its tip, uncaring that Sakura writhed and
wiggled and gasped beneath him.
    “D-don’t stop,” she begged when at last