4. Three

I popped another candy onto my tongue as the door shut behind us. The space on the other side was a hallway with a clean white tile floor and warm track lights on the ceiling. There were posters promoting safe sex and a table full of condoms and pamphlets. People were milling around, most barely dressed or wearing BDSM gear.

“Clothing beyond this point is optional.”

I jumped at the sound of Shepherd’s voice so close to my ear. I’d been so busy taking in the sights that I’d almost forgotten he was right there.

I stole a glance at Shepherd. He was nearly a foot taller, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his fitted black suit jacket. The material clung to his muscular chest and arms, emphasizing his strength. His dark brown hair was cropped close on the sides, with a few longer strands swept back. A hint of stubble graced his sharp jawline, adding an edge to his already commanding presence.

Shepherd's dark eyes met mine and one corner of his mouth quirked up. A rush of heat flooded through me. I quickly looked away, my face warming. Damn, he was undeniably attractive. The way he carried himself—exuding an effortless confidence and quiet dominance—was magnetic. It pulled me in, sparking a rush of excitement that mingled with a hint of nervousness.

He paced forward, hands behind his back. “Normally, you wouldn’t get such an eyeful on your first trip through.”

“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “I’m not shy.”

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, all you need to do is speak up.” He gestured to a doorway off to my left. “There are lockers for your belongings, and a changing area this way.”

He dropped his hand, moving down the hall. “These rooms are the most popular part of the venue. As you can see by the plaques on each door, they’re each named after a color. Each one has a theme. The white room is our medical play space, the red room is equipped with a wide range of impact play equipment. The blue room is our bondage room, equipped with everything from handcuffs to silk rope.” He pointed out each one as he walked by.

I stopped in front of the blue room. The door was slightly ajar. I stepped closer, peering through the crack. I could see a huge four poster bed draped in deep blue silk sheets. Thick metal rings were affixed to each bedpost. My mind wandered, imagining strong hands pulling my arms taut and securing them to those rings with padded leather cuffs. I'd watched videos like that online late at night, one hand shoved down my boxers. But seeing it in person sent a jolt straight to my cock.

I shifted my weight, trying to adjust myself discreetly as my cock began to swell. What would it feel like to be spread out on that bed, completely at someone's mercy? Unable to move, helpless, while they did whatever they wanted to me? My breath quickened at the thought.

“The equipment in the blue room is quite extensive,” Shepherd commented.

I nearly leaped out of my skin. Fuck, I'd basically been panting over it right in front of him. Heat rose in my cheeks. “I've seen stuff like this online, but...” I rubbed the back of my neck.

Shepherd stepped closer, his breath warm on the back of my neck. “There's quite a difference between watching videos online and experiencing the real thing firsthand.” He pushed open the door and gestured for me to step inside. “You’re welcome to take a closer look.”

I hesitated for a second, my heart jackhammering against my ribs, before taking a deep breath and crossing the threshold. The room was dimly lit by recessed blue lights in the ceiling. It gave everything an almost underwater quality.

“Pick something up if you'd like. Everything here is state-of-the-art. We’ve spent a small fortune on each of these rooms, ensuring they have nothing but the best equipment,” Shepherd said proudly.

I ventured deeper into the room, drawn to a large wooden X-cross propped against the far wall. Thick black leather cuffs dangled enticingly from each corner. I reached out, brushing my fingers over one, marveling at how buttery soft the leather felt—clearly expensive as fuck.

Next to the cross was some kind of bench thing with a padded leather top. Buckles and d-rings covered the sides. My imagination raced with visions of being strapped down, thighs spread wide and completely exposed, vulnerable to whatever pleasures or torment awaited me…

I quickly moved on before Shepherd could notice the growing bulge in my jeans. A huge metal frame in the center of the room caught my eye next. It had to be at least seven feet tall, with a slatted top that looked like it could be adjusted to different angles. Hooks and carabiners hung from various points on the frame. I had no idea what half this stuff was for, but fuck if it didn't get my heart racing.

Coils of rope in every color imaginable hung on racks mounted to the wall—deep reds, royal blues, stark black. Some looked thin and silky, others thick and coarse. I grabbed one, a deep navy blue, and let it unravel in my hands. It was heavier than I expected, the fibers rough against my skin. I couldn't help imagining how it would feel looped tight around my wrists, my ankles, maybe even my cock and balls…

I ran the navy rope through my fingers, transfixed by the coarse feel of it against my skin. My mind raced with dark fantasies of being bound and helpless. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even hear Shepherd come up behind me.

“That's a hemp rope,” his deep voice rumbled in my ear, making me jump. “Ideal for shibari. The knots hold well.”

I swallowed hard, nearly dropping the bundle of rope as I turned to face him. He was so close, his broad chest almost brushing against mine. This near, I could see flecks of gold in his dark eyes. My gaze flicked down to his full lips before I could stop myself.

“Shibari?” I said, my voice sounding strained.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “The ancient Japanese art of rope bondage,” Shepherd explained, taking the navy coil from my hands. He let it play out between his fingers with a soft rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. “It's an intricate art form, using ropes and knots to restrain the body in visually striking poses and patterns.”

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly bone dry. I regretted not bringing more candy to ease the dryness in my mouth. "And here I thought it was all about control," I quipped, attempting to lighten the mood despite the tension simmering between us.

He stepped even closer until I could feel the heat radiating off him. “That’s only part of the equation. Bondage is about trust and surrender, but Shibari especially is as much for performance as it is for pleasure. Shibari is more than just tying someone up; it's an art form that focuses on creating beautiful patterns and deep emotional connections. It’s about trust and intimacy, transforming the experience into something both visually stunning and profoundly personal.”

Fuck. How did he manage to make something so intense feel so erotic? I shifted my weight, discreetly adjusting myself as my cock strained against the fabric of my jeans.

Shepherd's gaze flicked down to my crotch before meeting my eyes again. A ghost of a smirk played at his lips. “I could give you a demonstration, if you'd like.”

Wait, what? My heart stuttered in my chest. “A demonstration?”

He nodded. “I’m one of the most experienced riggers here. You can keep your clothing on if you’d like, or remove your shirt if you’re interested in a more tactile experience. It doesn’t have to be sexual.” He stepped back and began winding the rope around one hand. “It can help to see some of the basic ties and positions. Give you a small taste of what it is.”

My pulse kicked into high gear. Part of me was screaming to run, that this was crazy. I'd just met this guy tonight. But another part, the part that had spent so many late nights with my hand shoved down my pants imagining scenarios like this, was already saying hell yes. I’d been looking for something more and this fit the bill.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as a desert. “A demonstration sounds good.”

I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked it over my head before I could second guess myself. Cool air kissed my bare skin, and I shivered, my nipples hardening instantly. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

Shepherd's eyes roamed over my bare torso, his expression unreadable. I fought the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny.

As Shepherd's gaze trailed over my body, his eyes narrowed when they landed on my right hip. The easy confidence melted from his expression, replaced by something darker, more intense.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my hands twitching at my sides. Why had I taken my shirt off so quickly? I hadn't even thought about the brand. Fuck.

My eyes flicked down to my right hip bone where the mark stood out. I moved my hand to cover it, my fingers splayed. But it was too late. He'd already seen it. I could tell by how his eyes had narrowed, his jaw clenching.

Fuck, why had I let him see that? What if he recognized the mark for what it was? I couldn’t allow him to see me as weak—couldn’t let him see the victim I once was.

I wasn’t a fucking victim anymore.

Memories flashed through my mind in quick succession, like a strobe light of trauma. The way they'd held me down, the stench of burned flesh, my own screams echoing in my head as the red-hot brand pressed into my skin. The way the leader had gripped my jaw after, fingers digging into my cheeks as he hissed in my face that I was theirs now, that I'd never escape.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing back the bile that rose in my throat. No. I couldn't think about that. Not here. Not now.

I forced my eyes open, meeting Shepherd's gaze.

Shepherd's eyes lingered on the brand, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s an interesting mark. What is it from?”

I swallowed hard, my fingers still splayed over the raised scar. What could I even say? The truth was too much, too dark. I didn't know him well enough for that. But something in his gaze pulled at me, urging me to give him something real.

“It's from a long time ago,” I said finally, my voice sounding rough to my own ears. “Ancient history.”

Shepherd studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. I had the distinct feeling he could see right through me, past all the walls I'd so carefully constructed. It was unnerving. Part of me wanted to hide from that penetrating stare. But another part, the broken part I tried so hard to ignore, desperately craved the connection, even as it terrified me.

What did he want from me? The way he looked at me, it felt different from the pity or disgust most people regarded me with when they saw the scars littering my body. There was a heaviness in his gaze, but also a glimmer of something else. Understanding, maybe. Or perhaps it was merely curiosity. I couldn't be sure.

Did he even care about the truth? Or was he asking to be polite? Most people didn't want to know. They were making conversation.

I hesitated, my fingers still covering the brand as if I could somehow erase it from existence. I chewed my bottom lip, the metal of my lip ring clacking against my teeth as I debated how much to reveal. I'd gotten so used to dodging questions about my past, brushing off any inquiries with a shrug and a quip. It was easier that way. Safer. But something about Shepherd made me want to crack open the lid on that box.

“It's a, uh, brand,” I said finally, the words feeling thick and clumsy on my tongue.

Shepherd's eyebrows lifted slightly at that, but his expression remained inscrutable. “A brand,” he repeated, his deep voice carefully neutral. “Not something you see every day.”

I let out a humorless chuckle, my fingers still splayed over the mark. “It wasn't exactly voluntary.”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I gathered as much." He took a step closer. “May I see it?”

My breath caught in my throat. Part of me wanted to refuse, to yank my shirt back on and tell him to fuck off. But another part, that broken part desperate for understanding, for acceptance, whispered, “Yes.”

Slowly, I lowered my hand, allowing it to drop to my side, exposing the brand for him to see. The brand stood out starkly against my pale skin, angry red lines forming the distinct shape of a shepherd's staff.

Shepherd's fingers brushed over the raised lines of the brand, his touch feather light. I shivered, goosebumps erupting across my skin. It was the gentlest touch that mark had ever received. Normally, when people saw it, they recoiled or looked away, disgust and pity warring in their eyes. But Shepherd regarded it, regarded me, with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his deep voice soft yet demanding.

I swallowed hard, my mouth bone dry. “It's a long story.”

His dark eyes met mine. “I have all night.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. How could I even begin to explain? The years of abuse, of brainwashing, of being told I was nothing, that I deserved the pain. That they were cleansing me of my sins. It was too much, too raw. Even after all this time.

I shook my head, looking away. “I…I can’t.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Shepherd's hand lingered on my hip a moment longer before falling away. Immediately, I missed his touch, craved more of it. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I cleared my throat, forcing a shrug. “It's fine. It's in the past. Let's just... move on, yeah?”

Shepherd gave a slight nod. “As you wish.” He took a step back, gesturing to the array of equipment around us. “So, what do you think of the room? Does anything catch your eye? Pique your interest?”

I glanced around, taking in the suspension frame and all the ropes. My cock twitched in my jeans at the possibilities, the dark promise of it all. But a tight knot of anxiety clenched in my gut. As much as part of me craved to be pushed, to be taken to that edge, I couldn't ignore the warning bells clanging in my head. This was all so new, so intense. And Shepherd... Fuck, he was hot. Hotter than anyone I'd ever been with. But I didn't know him. Not yet.

That didn’t mean I didn’t want to get to know him.

“It’s all pretty impressive,” I said, clutching my shirt to my chest. “But I’m not sure tonight’s the right night.”

“Ah. I see.” He sounded disappointed.

Maybe it was because I’d been drinking. Maybe it was the proximity or the trauma lurking close to the surface. But for whatever reason, I somehow found the courage to shoot my shot with the hottest guy I’d ever met, even though he was clearly way out of my league.

“I'm not ready to jump into the deep end yet,” I said, forcing myself to meet Shepherd's intense gaze. “But maybe we could start with something a little more low key. Like…coffee?”

Shepherd studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Then, slowly, one corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. “I’d like that.”

Relief washed through me, followed quickly by a giddy sort of excitement. Holy shit. He'd actually said yes. To me. I tried to play it cool, but I could feel the grin spreading across my face.

“Great. Uh, when are you free?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Shepherd glanced at his watch, a sleek black thing that probably cost more than my rent. “I’m free tomorrow. Let’s say ten o’clock? There's a coffee shop not far from here that I frequent. Vero's. They roast their own beans.”

Of course he would go to some bougie ass coffee shop. Why was I not surprised? But hey, if that's what it took to spend more time with him, sign me the fuck up.

“Sounds perfect,” I said with a nod. “It's a date.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Fuck. Why did I say that? We'd literally just met. This was coffee . Not a date.

But Shepherd didn't seem fazed. If anything, his smile widened a fraction. “Indeed it is.”