She’s facing the doorway. Her steps stopped at the sound of him drawing near.
She doesn’t know the rules. She doesn’t know what’s expected of her. She only knows that she belongs somewhere in this maze she’s found herself in. She just doesn’t know where.
It’s a touch along the small of her back. Lightly with fingertips screaming across her skin, even with the layer of cotton from her blouse separating them. Not for long as those fingers slide to the wrist of her right hand. She feels her fingers clench instinctively and he stops until she relaxes, her fingers falling limp into his grip.
Then and only then does he touch the left, the air practically crackling with his approval as her fingers stay slack, letting him control her without tension.
She submits.
She catches her breath even as her wrists join behind her back and the smooth fabric begins to bind her.
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