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William leads Karen to the king size bed, still blindfolded. She follows obediently, her fingers enfolded in his. If she tries hard enough she can ignore the fact that she is doing what she's doing. Her head says it's wrong. Her heart says it's wrong. But those are not the body parts William stimulates.

The things she has felt in these past days with William are feelings she has pushed down and ignored for ten years. Her sex life has always been comfortable, routine, and adequate. Never had she awoken the morning after with bruises and a limp in her step; never had she had to sit down quite so gingerly the following day. Karen has decided to view this week as a reawakening: there is clearly a part of her that enjoys the submissive role she plays with William, though it is not a role she is willing to fully acknowledge. What she does admit is the fact that she has made a mistake by pretending never to have had these feelings at all. Karen doubts that she would have ever had the courage or the nerve to act on these ideas on her own; William's approach may not have been ideal - or even legal - but Karen believes that the end result will be a more satisfied, sexually confident woman, and through that reasoning she is able to lie on the bed, eyes still covered, and wait for William's next command.

"Do you like the blindfold?" William asks. He has moved some distance away; his voice is faint.

"Yes," Karen answers. The last time she was blindfolded she had been swinging a baseball bat at a papier m__ch__ donkey, hoping for candy. Now the roles are reversed and she is the one awaiting the next hit.

She can hear William's footsteps drawing nearer, then the sound of a bottle being placed on the side table near her head. "Did you like tasting yourself the other day?" he inquires. "When I put the dildo in your mouth, did you like the taste of your pussy?"

Karen knows he is being purposely crude, just as he knows that she did not enjoy it. What did she did enjoy was not being responsible for their activities: William did all the planning, she followed his lead.

"You know I didn't." The champagne bottle is next to her head; if she tries hard enough she can smell it. She does not want to drink from the bottle.

"Are you thirsty?" William asks, reading her expression. He's smiling; even if he were the one blindfolded he would know her response.

"No."

He chuckles and strokes a hand from her throat to the junction of her thighs, feeling her simply because he can. Karen shudders and he does it again, this time pausing to remove her bra. He has shed his own clothing and now he sits beside her on the bed and lowers his face to her breast, sucking her plump nipple into his mouth. She arches into him gently and he places a broad hand on her stomach to hold her to the bed. He torments her for a moment then pulls away, deciding.

"Put your hands over your head," he orders.

There is a second's hesitation before Karen raises her hands. Her fingers meet the cool metal of the ornate wrought iron headboard.

"Grip the bars."

She does.

There is a sharp click and padded cuffs are fastened around her wrists. Karen makes a soft exclamation of surprise and tests the restraints: she cannot free her hands. She feels the mattress lift as William rises.

"Are you afraid?" he asks from the foot of the bed.

Karen is trembling but she shakes her head.

William wraps a warm hand around both ankles and tugs Karen down the bed so her arms are fully extended. Without pushing herself up the bed she cannot easily move her upper torso.

William approaches from the opposite side of the bed and sits down, immediately returning his mouth to her breast, this time focusing his attention on her other straining nipple. Karen moans; despite her heated condition the warmth of William's mouth on her skin has goose bumps exploding up and down her body.

As his mouth works on her nipple William's free hand traces patterns on her right breast, across her stomach, over her pubic bone.

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