The ribbon is butter-soft to the touch. Smith rubs his thumb over the smooth pink satin and shivers. He immediately thinks of Trott, and the things they do on the nights Trott doesn’t work. He wonders what it would be like to have the ribbon looped around him, caressed across his skin, pulled just tight enough to keep him still.
Smith pulls his hand back and swallows thickly, glancing around the shop as if someone could read his inappropriate thoughts.
There’s no one near him. And mind-reading doesn’t exist. Idiot.
CW: BDSM, bondage. class differences. mention of taking pictures. also, usage of pink ribbon, but no feminization or anything like that. the ribbon just happens to be pink.
if I need to tag something else, let me know.