The Ultimate Erotica Collection: 3 Books in 1 - Destined to Play, The Silver Chain, Run to You. Primula Bond

never leave you and I will look after you. All you must do is trust me enough to give yourself wholly over to the process. Surrender yourself to me, to this experience, knowing that the fear is worth the pleasure. Only you can decide whether we continue or not, right here, right now. Just tell me, yes or no.’ How is it that he may as well be having this conversation with my clitoris, instead of my brain?

      Tears well up in my blind eyes. I can’t control the intensity of my emotions any more. Do I surrender to this innate longing that has haunted me for years and simply say, yes? Our shared memories dance in my mind. The tension. The game playing. The teasing, the tormenting. His dominance. My submission. And our combined love of these roles. So he wants to push the boundaries. Deep down I acknowledge that I, too, want to know how far they can be pushed, knowing I would only ever allow them to be pushed by him.

      ‘Yes.’ My decision relieves me beyond belief and I let out an almighty sigh as I finally succumb to my destiny, the destiny Jeremy has created.

      ‘Thank you. You won’t regret this. I promise.’ He removes the hood and softly kisses my lips.

      ‘I am going to silence you now so you are unable to speak. Is there anything else you would like to say before I do this?’

      I shake my head. The reality that I’m willing to allow myself to enter such uncharted territory scares the living daylights out of me, yet arouses me so ferociously it’s intoxicating. He opens my mouth and squirts a citrus-tasting spray onto my tongue and the back of my throat. It produces a strange numbing sensation and I can’t help but test its effectiveness. No sound whatsoever — I am now mute as well as blind.

      ‘Please place her in position.’

      The strong arms raise my body off the floor, like a rag doll, as I am lifted to some higher place. A platform? It’s almost as if gravity is inconsequential and I am weightless. Once again, I am placed on my knees and, still in this position, my legs are separated with both knees and ankles anchored to the firm spongy floor, thanks to the added convenience of my leather binds. Given my wrists are still bound behind me, I am well and truly stationed in position.

      I want this. I need to understand where it leads me. I don’t struggle. I’m strapped to the floor. I am not free to see; I am not free to speak; I am not free to move. I am free to experience the complete and utter fear, excitement, shame and arousal penetrating each and every cell as anxiety trembles physically through my body. How peculiar and fascinating that these emotions can exist in unison.

      ‘There are a few items requiring clarification before we progress further.’ The baritone voice again.

      I have been remiss. I should add to my list, I am free to hear.

      ‘Please examine her again.’

      Once again, two fingers manoeuvre deeply into my vagina. They probe a little longer this time and are promptly removed. My body responds to the intrusion, but the impact is less obvious given my captured position.

      ‘Good, let us proceed.’

      I feel a strange sense of having travelled through time and participating in some ancient sexual rite of passage.

      ‘There is no requirement for the subject to acknowledge anything I say. It can be verified on her behalf by J. It is, however, important that she hears the words before we remove that sense as well.’

      I feel my breasts rising and falling with each breath; the anticipation as to what is coming next is so distinct.

      ‘It is our understanding, Dr Quinn, that the subject gave you permission to effectively render her blind for forty-eight hours?’

      The subject. I am truly a nonentity.

      Pause.

      ‘True.’

      ‘It is our understanding that you made her aware, on a number of occasions, that there were implications for her behaviour over this period.’

      ‘True.’

      ‘And that for each question she asked, there would be consequences?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Is it your belief that she understood these requirements?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Finally, you have discussed our research program and she agreed to be involved?’

      ‘That’s correct.’

      This is it, it is actually happening. I have handed myself over to him, to them. Although I do wonder why are they going through this mentally tortuous process.

      ‘This is truly excellent work. We can say categorically that she is perfect for our program. I am very much looking forward to analysing the results.’

      Wow, positive feedback. Jeremy must be very pleased with himself. I wonder whether all of this is turning him on.

      ‘We must address the consequences of her actions. How many questions has she asked in total?’

      Before I am given the privilege of hearing the answer, earplugs are inserted into my ears. Oh god, this is full on. Complete silence, complete blindness, completely mute and completely exposed. I have never gone into a state of shock before; I can only imagine that this is what I am feeling now. Completely devoid of … well … everything! Completely 100 per cent numb, frozen in time. There is now absolutely no sensory way to predict what will happen to me and absolutely no way of preventing it. Touch is my one and only remaining sense.

      Something helmet-like is placed over my head. It feels weird, a little onerous at first, and it takes me a moment to register that, of course, they will be monitoring the neural activity in my brain. This is the missing link in their research and I am their human experiment. Instinctively, I attempt to control my thoughts, then scream silently; I want to test the device and its tracking mechanisms to see if it will make any difference when they analyse the results. This situation is almost too bizarre to comprehend.

      My wrists are released from behind me and rebound together in front of me. My arms are stretched way beyond my head. No further please, I pray silently. My hips are steadied as the stretching continues and my body is then forced to bend over a spongy bar until I reach the floor where my bound wrists are attached and secured, along with my neck. This position ensures my chest is now lower than my now-protruding arse. I can only imagine my breasts dangling free as my breathing escalates, ensuring I understand this is all very real and not a dream at all. All hands are removed from my body. My restraints are now entirely non-human.

      The sound of my racing heart consumes me. It pumps so hard and fast I wonder if this is it. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Am I having a heart attack right this second? What a position to die in. Before I fully assimilate the possibility of heart failure, my body bucks against the intrusion of yet more probing fingers. I feel my nipples harden and my butt jolts at the invasion. I hold my breath as they stay longer this time, apply more pressure, test and stretch the confines of their now slippery surrounds. Warmth emanates from within me as my vagina moistens in anticipation of their touch. The sound of my heart racing threatens to explode in my ears. I exhale sharply as they retract; shocked at the emptiness they leave behind.

      Then nothing but my beating heart.

      I am stung so hard and fast on my arse I freeze, completely rigid.

      It happens again. It stops.

      There is no breath going into or out of my lungs.

      And again. It stops.

      I need to inhale.

      In quick succession, I am struck again and again and again and again. I inhale with each thwack of the strap landing across my arse, unable to exhale from the sheer shock of it. The oxygen intake is in stark conflict to the silent scream frantically attempting to leave my throat, rendering it impossible. I spasm as my head spins in turmoil.

      The stinging sensation is like nothing I’ve experienced before; not too painful but not un-painful. Just enough to feel the bite on the surface