“Are they comfortable?” he asked. “Nod if they’re okay, shake your head if they’re too tight.”

I flexed my hands and wiggled my fingers. The cuffs felt like soft, furry bracelets, snug, but not uncomfortably so. I took a deep breath through my nose and nodded.

There was a strange whispering sound I couldn’t identify, and then Brian was lifting my left arm up toward the bedpost. Even when he let go, I couldn’t lower my arm, and I realized the sound I heard was probably one of those lengths of silky rope being attached to the cuff and then tied to the bedpost. My heart fluttered, and I swallowed awkwardly, the gag making the latter difficult.

When Brian started lifting my right arm, I felt another surge of panic. This was it. Once he’d secured that arm, I would have no defenses left, no reassurance that I could remove the blindfold myself. I would be completely dependent on Brian to free me, helpless to stop him from doing anything he wanted. Even now, I’m amazed that I found the will and the strength to let him do it.

He smoothed his cheek up and down my neck, his stubble abrading the sensitive skin there. “Remember, you can always drop the ball, and everything stops.”

This was a test of my trust and of my resolve. If I dropped the ball, I failed the test. Period. I bit down on the ball between my teeth. I had no intention of failing.

Once again, I heard the whisper of Brian’s feet on the carpet. Even with the gag in my mouth, I managed a little groan of discontent when he turned on his CD player. He put in something mellow and classical, but it was just enough to mask the sound of his footsteps, as I’m sure he intended.

Time got a little wonky on me, my senses completely out of whack. I have no clue how long I stood there, my entire body tense enough to make my muscles quiver, waiting to see what Brian would do next, and when he would do it. That wait was pure agony. I knew that he wasn’t going to hurt me, at least not in any but the most minor of ways. He was too gentle a soul to be really brutal with me, no matter how vigorous he wished this test to be. But bound, gagged, blindfolded, and helpless, I couldn’t help letting my imagination run away with me.

I was strung so tight after waiting I don’t know how long for something to happen that I actually jumped and shrieked at the feel of the feather caressing my ass. The gag kept the shriek from being terribly loud, but Brian certainly heard it. His laugh told me he was enjoying himself despite my misery.

The tip of the feather tickled first one cheek, then the other, then followed the line of my thong downward. I squirmed at the sensation, my skin twitching at the tickle that was at once sensual and annoying. It was probably a good thing for Brian I was gagged, because I don’t think he’d have wanted to hear what I thought of him at that moment.

The feather started tickling the insides of my thighs, and I squirmed some more. Brian chuckled softly, and I wondered if it would violate the spirit of things if I were to aim a kick backward. He hadn’t, after all, bound my legs. I managed to restrain the impulse, even as the tickling drove me mad.

I wasn’t exactly relaxed now that Brian was tickling me to death with the damn feather, but I wasn’t braced for pain as I had been during the excruciating wait. Which made the sudden smack of his hand against my ass all the more startling. He didn’t hit me hard, the blow more like the kind of playful smack you’d give a lover who’d just teased you about something. But in the context, it was a shock to my system, and I gasped as if it had been brutal.

He followed up with more strokes of the feather, easing the faint sting. He repeated the process several more times, waiting until the tickle of the feather was driving me so crazy I forgot to brace against the spank. I jumped and squealed every time, only belatedly realizing that he hadn’t really hurt me.

Somewhere along the line, I recognized the similarity between this situation and the erotic dream Lugh had created for me, but I was way too tense for this to be erotic. Of course, it also wasn’t a dream.

When the tickle of the feather finally ended, I was momentarily relieved even as my cheeks clenched in anticipation. The relief dissolved into anxiety when nothing happened, and I realized that once again I had no idea where Brian was. Had he gone to pick out another “toy”? Was he standing there staring at me, watching me squirm and loving every minute of it? Hell, for all I knew, he’d gone out to watch a ball game on TV! For the record, being blindfolded sucks!

Once again, my sense of time got seriously distorted as I waited in nervous anticipation for whatever was to come next. My jaw muscles were getting tired from the gag—I felt like I’d been sitting in the dentist’s chair while someone kept telling me to “open wide” for an hour. And I was more than ready to lose the fuck-me pumps that were forcing all of my weight onto the balls of my feet—and not, so far at least, getting me fucked.

I was surreptitiously trying to wiggle my ankles around to restore circulation to my toes when a new tickle made me jump for the millionth time. Was it possible to run out of adrenaline? Because it seemed like I should have done so by now.

At first, I didn’t know what was causing the tickle. It was something bigger and more diffuse than the feather, and Brian was dragging it up the side of my body. I had to stifle a laugh, because my sides are super ticklish. Then I started going over in my mind the items Dominic had put in the care package, and recognition shivered through me. This was the multi-thonged whip.

Nope, definitely not out of adrenaline. I started breathing hard, and I forgot all about the discomfort of the gag and the shoes. I did not want Brian to hit me with this thing! He was dragging it over my back right now, the long suede thongs paradoxically soft against my skin. I let out a little whimper.

“Remember,” Brian said, “you can always drop the ball.”

My jaws tightened reflexively on the ball. I was not going to chicken out now. I’d survived the hell that Adam had put me through; if I could survive that, it seemed almost silly to be afraid of anything that Brian might do.

He teased me a bit more with the whip, swinging it lightly so that the thongs brushed over my ass, letting me think about what it would feel like if he really did haul back and hit me with it. But of course, he didn’t.

Brian let out a dramatic sigh. “Considering some of the crap you’ve pulled in the last couple of months, the idea of tanning your ass with this thing has some serious appeal. However, Dominic’s note says I’d need to practice before using it, so I guess I’m SOL.”

My heart bled for him. Really.

“Of course,” he continued, “I could just use my hand. I bet I can manage that without any practice at all.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. I imagined he was watching the ball very carefully, waiting to see if I’d drop it. I certainly didn’t want him to spank me, but if that was what it took to convince him to give me another chance, then I’d take it willingly. Which didn’t mean I wasn’t relieved as hell when he let out a regretful little sigh that told me he wasn’t going to do it.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I have the patience for it right now,” he said, and I didn’t immediately know what he meant.

I groaned in relief when he removed the gag. My jaw muscles screamed in protest as I closed my mouth, but I was really glad to be able to swallow normally again.

Brian freed first my right hand, then my left from the bedposts. It was only then that I realized my shoulders had been getting pretty tired of being stretched out like that.

I figured he’d take the blindfold off next, but he didn’t. Instead, he took my hands and pulled them behind my back. Apparently, those fur-lined cuffs could be connected together. I guess this wasn’t over yet, after all.