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I smirked. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the leather round my wrists, or the idea of Elena pretending to be impossible.
“Is that your best?” I said. “I’ve had firmer handshakes.”
Her eyebrows went up. The room went very quiet. I felt the first cold trickle of regret.
“Oh, Mark.” She said it with something like affection. “You really shouldn’t have.”
She climbed off me, slowly, and crossed to the bag. She came back with a long black feather and a small pink vibrator, which she held up so I could see it buzz. “I wasn’t going to use these until later. But since I’m not even close to breaking you.”
The feather came first. She trailed it down the inside of my arm, across my ribs, over my nipples, along the crease of my thigh, avoiding the one place I wanted it, over and over, until the whole of my skin was singing and I was thrashing against the cuffs. Then she put the vibrator against the underside of my cock, on the lowest setting, and watched my face.
“Still smirking?”
I was not smirking. I was biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
“Last chance,” Elena said, and turned the dial up one notch. “Say sorry, or say nothing. Your choice. But choose carefully, because I’ve got all night, and you have somewhere to be, which is under me.”