“Tie
me,” Phiz whispered.
“What?”
“Please.
Just with the belt. I won’t struggle. I just…like the feel of it.”
Bryan
grabbed his belt from the floor and climbed onto the bed. The buckle jingled in
the cool, quiet air. He grasped the belt length-wise, with a foot or so between
his hands. Then he began to run the leather up Phiz’s back, like sliding a
harness towards a horse’s head.
Phiz
whimpered and his whole body shuddered.
Bryan
reached the headboard and Phiz’s clasped hands. He wound the belt around Phiz’s
wrists a couple of times, making sure to catch the headboard’s frame inside the
circle of leather. Then he fastened the buckle on its tightest setting and sat
back on his heels.
“Oh,”
was all Phiz said, but the sound was like a sigh, a bubble of pure ecstasy. His
whole body stilled.
The
belt wasn’t restrictive at all—in fact, Phiz could probably have slipped his
hands out from the noose. But it encircled them snugly and reinforced his grip.