A delicious, cold thrill runs through my body. The table and the restraints? What the hell does that mean?
I don’t have to wait long to find out, because a few minutes later, Bruno is lugging a large silver table towards Dante and me. It reminds me of a surgical table—sterile, cold, and clinical.
“I’ll go last,” Dante says to Bruno. Bruno shrugs his shoulders. “Suit yourself,” he says.
What the f**k?
Bruno approaches me, and without saying a word hoists me up underneath my armpits and carries me to the table. ‘
“Hey! What are you doing?” I ask, flailing my legs wildly in the air. He doesn’t answer me, but instead dumps me on the table. He walks behind me and grabs my wrists.
“Hey!” I yell again, “Stop that.”
He stops, “Do you want to safeword?”
Embarrassment washes over me, “No.”
