Naomi came back from her shower, let her towel fall to the floor and stood quiet and still, legs apart, her hands held loosely at her sides. Her mind was in neutral; she had not been awake for long. Her bare toes were almost lost in the thick sheepskin rug. The curtains were still drawn; the room, illuminated by the glow of the bedside light, was just beginning to warm up, as the central heating had not been on for long. Her nipples hardened.
Sean fastened a leather waspie around her waist, buckling it at the front and tightening the lacing at the back so that it fitted snugly. It was fitted with D rings and from it hung leather straps, threaded through buckles riveted in place so that they could swivel. To some of these, other straps were similarly fastened. From the points on the waspie where her hands would have rested if she had been told to put her hands on her hips, he picked up two padded straps about two inches wide and passed them under her buttocks, through her legs and ...
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