OnLocation by Sindra van Yssel

things from it. He’d wanted her
to see the flogger and the crop, but whatever he was taking out now he didn’t
want her to see. Maybe it was something more frightening. Maybe the flogger and
the crop were the worst of it and he wanted to make sure she saw those. Had he
seen her reaction to the flogger? He couldn’t have. His back was turned. But
from what he said, he must have known or guessed even without that. But it was
the idea of the crop, unknown and scary, that made her pussy tingle. She wanted
to be struck with it. She wanted it to be intense. And she was frightened of it
at the same time.
    His breath tickled her neck. He was close behind her. She
didn’t know what he might have in his hands or what she might feel next. She
braced herself, every muscle tensing, wondering if her penchant for bad boys
was such a good idea. Maybe she should find herself a nice doctor or something.
    He ran his hands through her long, loose hair. They were
empty, then. Perhaps that meant the crop and flogger and whatever else were
still on the bed.
    He pulled her hair gently, enough that she could feel it.
First he pulled one lock, then another. His touch was so soft and she’d been
expecting something so harsh, she didn’t realize what was going on at first. He’s
braiding my hair.
    Memories flooded back, of her mother doing that, and her
father after her mother passed away when she was fifteen. Her mother had been
better at it, and Terry had eventually learned to do her own, but both had
acted out of love as best they knew. But Kyle didn’t love her. He was just
being kind. Maybe he liked it up. “Thank you, Sir.” Maybe she’d disappointed
him by arriving with it loose. Either way, it certainly wasn’t punishment.
    Obviously he’d had some practice, although whatever pattern
he was doing was unfamiliar to her, at least by feel. Where had he learned to
do that? She tried to imagine him with long hair, but that seemed ridiculous.
She remembered the blonde woman in the picture. Karla. Her hair had been
braided. Kyle had practiced on his sisters. Pleased by that deduction, she
relaxed. Besides, a man who would braid his sisters’ hair, who kept photographs
of them on his dresser and spoke of them with such obvious pride had to be a
good man. She relaxed and enjoyed it, regretting that he was almost finished.
He could pull it all out and do it again, and she could enjoy that all night.
    He tugged her braid upward and she jerked out of her
reverie. That wasn’t gentle, not at all. And it didn’t go away when she heard
him take a step back either. What was going on? She jerked her head and the bed
shook.
    He’s tied my hair to the top of the bedframe. She
quit pulling. That hurt. And it pulled even when she moved her head a little,
but if she was absolutely still, her head bent slightly forward, it was okay.
She took more deep breaths. Unlike her ankles and wrists, he’d bound her hair
very tightly.
    What if I need to get free suddenly? “Sir?”
    “Shh. You’re okay.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I will keep you safe. I promise.”
    “What if there’s a fire?”
    “Then I will cut you free. I’ve practiced detaching those
cuffs as often as I practiced assembling and disassembling my rifle in the old
days, and I’m very fast.”
    “And my hair?”
    “Might be shorter, but I have a knife within reach that
would get you free in less than a second in an emergency. I’m always prepared
for things to go wrong, little sub. Always.”
    She took a deep breath. A sharp knife that could cut through
her hair—she wouldn’t like having her hair cut that way but he was keeping her
safe, and that was the important thing. It was all fine until she visualized
the knife. She was tied up with a maniac with a big sharp knife. She yanked at
her chains, hard.
    “That’s the only reason it’s here, love.” His voice was calm,
but the hand he placed on her shoulder was better. “I’m an expert in its use,
but it’s for