he had seen on the table. The silken fabric with the bells seemed innocent enough.
“Please nod your head if you are happy to proceed,” said Grace.
Again Ford paused. Did he want to be tied up? It had never occurred to him. He flushed as his mind wondered about the kind of kinky shit he was letting himself in for. Were Guy and Benedict still here? There was only silence as his ears strained to detect movement. Eventually, he nodded his head; he was a big guy. Grace and her bindings would be no match for his strength. Music flooded the room. There was a reason for this, it allowed Grace to approach Ford, the music masking her movements. Distracted, he jumped and stiffened when Grace touched his hands, drawing them behind the chair and quickly binding them together.
“Relax, Ford. Can you please move your hands?” asked Grace. The bells could be heard quite distinctly as he obliged. “Nod your head if you are ready to begin.”
Ford slowly nodded his head, his body on red alert. His heightened sense of smell became aware of a delicious scent all around him. His ears strained as he listened, but the only sound was the music and his own erratic breathing. The touch, when it came, a fingertip to his lips, caught him by surprise and it took all his control not to move as Grace began.
Guy watched mesmerised, having never experienced it so close up and personal. When he was in the cube, he was working under pressure, ensuring that members’ identities remained protected while juggling time restraints. Coordinating the removal of members when their bells went off, he barely had time to draw breath. This was different, the demonstration was laid bare before him, and he could not take his eyes off Ford. A mixture of tension and nerves charged the air. Benedict watched blankly while Grace took Ford through the routine, his mind elsewhere. He motioned to Guy that he would be next door and slipped out of the room.
Ford, his mind and emotions in turmoil, struggled to keep his body still. He had forgotten all about Grace, his focus concentrated on the touch. It was intense and intoxicating, his breath quickening in astonishment as he felt a pulse vibrate below his body. It was coming from the chair and his body tingled in response. Almost panting now, he lost all sense of time, connected only to sensations rippling through him. He groaned as the pulses intensified, wondering how long he could hang on. When the central pulse kicked in, rising through the fabric of the chair, he moved instinctively, the pleasure sublime. His bell rang and abruptly, everything stopped. He was on fire, both mentally and physically, sweat glistened on his partially covered face as his chest heaved up and down. Grace’s gentle voice grounded him.
“Ford, please wait while you are untied.” He felt the binding loosen and his hands fall free. “Take your time when removing the blindfold,” she continued. “The lights are dimmed to help your eyes adjust.”
Ford felt a strange crushing disappointment as he became aware of his surroundings, he didn’t want it to be over. The first thing he saw as the hood lifted was Guy Walker…Grace was nowhere in sight. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments and Ford simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak—he was on board. He looked at his hands and saw they were trembling. Not sure he could stand yet; he sat a while longer on the chair he had arrogantly dismissed earlier. Regaining his composure, he found his voice.
“Right, let’s get down to business; I’ll have a look at that chair again,” he said firmly.
Guy stood and smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that…this way.”
Ford followed him, barely able to contain his excitement, his mind whirling with possibilities.
Chapter 14
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Belt sensory device was a definite favourite of the patrons and often their secret weapon. The V-shaped centre is heavy as it
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley