Page 74 of At Her Pleasure
While watching her do something like this, it would be normal for Sy to fantasize about the next session they might share. She suspected that was the root of Mick’s adverse reaction. He wasn’t the kind of rooster who liked to share his yard.
His possessiveness didn’t surprise her. Her reaction to it did. Cyn didn’t find it tedious or annoying, like she did whenever a sub tried to make more of their sessions than was there for her.
As she mused on that, the Tailor was taking Mick’s measurements. He disappeared behind a curtain, returning with the proper size of the silver and black design. He unwrapped it from the clear plastic that protected it and loosened the laces before handing her the garment.
“Shirt off or on?”
She graciously considered the demands on Mick tonight and decided accordingly. “On.”
“Slide it onto his shoulders and flatten the shirt as much as possible before you start hooking it,” the Tailor said.
Mick’s gaze met hers as she threaded the garment onto his arms and had him shrug into it. She spread her hands over his chest, smoothing the fabric over the man beneath. Stepping closer, she reached behind him to do the same down his back. As she did, she brought her body fully against his, thigh to chest, experiencing heat and hard male.
His chuckle was a puff of air against her temple. “Keep doing that, and it’s not the belt that’s going to be the problem.”
“If your dick gets in the way, I’ll tuck it under the corset. Tie it down as tight as I can.” She made sure she rubbed herself against him before she stepped back. His look was the same one he’d had before he hunted her down in the straw bales. A patient predator. Waiting.
The Tailor was standing close enough to hear the exchange, though as a gentleman, he affected deafness until Cyn addressed him directly. “If you have lace or fabric scrap, you should expand your offerings to include cock corsets. Laced sheaths that match the corset or complement its colors. That’s a way to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”
“Indeed, madame.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ll consider it.”
“Free marketing advice from Thomas Rose Associates,” she told him. “If you ever want to expand your operations, think of us here in New Orleans. We have a country-wide client base.”
Ros chuckled. When Cyn winked at her, her boss lifted her glass. Then Cyn’s attention came back to the only thing she wanted occupying it.
“Hook the front fasteners,” the Tailor said, “and move to the back to tighten the laces.”
Cyn fastened the silver hooks with deft fingers, though she took her time with the sensation of binding Mick. The Tailor checked in with his assistant as she did, but by the time she was almost done, he was back at her side. What she was doing with Mick was attracting an audience, so the Tailor was more than happy to promote the theater.
Cyn did the last hook, resting her fingers on him as she tipped her head up. The blue eyes were fixed on her like he never wanted to look anywhere else. No woman was immune to that. Even a hardass like her.
“I’ll enjoy cutting you out of this, giving you back your ability to draw a deep breath. But not too soon, so you better learn to breathe shallow.”
“I don’t breathe around you at all, Mistress.”
She curved her fingers against the brocade. Lifting up on her toes, she brushed her mouth against the corner of his, then stepped behind him.
As she studied the lacings, the Tailor reminded her and their viewers of the process. “The upper part of the rabbit ears, here in the middle, tightens the top, the lower part tightens the bottom. You can pull and adjust as you go. When it’s as tight as you wish, tie the ears together to hold it all in place.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Seeing your sub react to the adjustments is pure foreplay. The journey brings as much pleasure as the end result. The reason for wearing a corset goes far beyond fashion.”
Cyn gripped the rabbit ears. She’d worn a corset before. It wasn’t her usual preference, as she had more interest in imposing restriction than experiencing it herself, but her familiarity meant she could give Tailor a nod, tacit permission t0 move off and help his other customers, leaving the rest between her and Mick.
Mick was waiting to see what she would do and how she would do it. She pulled on the ears evenly and watched the upper and lower sections close in on his body, around his chest and just below his waist. She pulled on the shirt at the bottom, smoothing it out further. Discomfort from a wrinkled shirt wasn’t the kind of pain she wanted him to experience.
As she tightened and adjusted, the garment closed around him, emphasizing and embellishing his shape as the Tailor had said, the triangle of broad chest, the slim waist and flare of hips. The rise of the buttocks became a far more prominent visual target. Nice. Really fucking nice. The corset accentuated the masculine form, tempting touch, taste and teeth.
She smoothed her palm over all of it, moving to his ass and fondling, running her fingers over the seam, the creases between buttocks and thighs.
She lifted on her toes and spoke against his nape, giving him a small bite. “Take a deep breath, and brace yourself.”
When he did, she did the final pull. Countering it with the planting of his feet as she’d required helped her make it as tight as she wished. His quiet grunt told her he felt it. She tied off the ears and came back to his front to look at the overall effect.
Wow. The silver and black with the blue shirt and slacks made him into total eye candy. She didn’t want to devour him. She needed to.
The Tailor appeared at her elbow with a sales book, offering it to her with a pen. “If you write down your club account number, the charge will be put there.”
The corset was well worth the cost. She wrote her number down, adding a generous tip. He murmured his thanks, then handed her a small bag. “An extra set of laces. To replace the ones you’ll cut.”