As the first length of nylon gently encircled her wrists, Samantha Lang gave a soft moan of pleasure, the sensation sending tingles of delight running along her spine. She remained obediently still as the impromptu restraints were knotted tight, leaving her arms bound tightly behind her back, and quickly, the heat of her ardour grew, helped along by the feel of her captor’s hand upon her body. “That feel all right?”

The pretty Chinese woman gave an experimental flex of her wrists, the old lengths of pantyhose holding strong despite her efforts, pink lips turning up in a contented smile. “It feels great,” she whispered in response, unable to keep the blush from her pale features. “So… what are you going to do to me?”

In answer, more nylon cinched tight about her elbows. “Patience, my dear. Don’t want to spoil our anniversary by giving it away now,” Duncan remarked teasingly. Quickly securing them, he stopped for a moment to appreciate his handiwork before drawing a hand along Samantha’s long, shapely legs, feeling the pulse of her supple flesh beneath the nylon pantyhose and provoking a new shiver of delight. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Samantha replied. It was the one-year anniversary of their first meeting, of that horrid night when terrorists had stormed the Christmas Gala and taken her as a hostage, an experience that would have ended in tragedy had Duncan not snuck in to save her. In the darkness, chained up to a bomb by her captors, she’d promised herself that she would live her life to the fullest, to never again allow self-doubt or anxiety to hold her back, and it was a promise she’d lived up to, day after day for the past year. And through it all, Duncan had been there, first as a friend, then as a lover, but always a confidant she could rely upon without hesitation. He had not judged or dismiss her when she asked to be tied up, and soon, what was initially some impromptu aversion therapy had become a favourite activity for the young couple, the nights at their shared apartment spent indulging their passions.

Particularly where nylons were concerned. Samantha had more than a few spare pairs of pantyhose amongst her things, a few of them too worn through to be worn in public anymore, but still intact enough to serve as makeshift bonds for their games. Another such length made their way around her crossed ankles, joined moments later by a strip just above the knees, leaving her legs firmly secured and ensuring she could do nothing but squirm helplessly on their shared bed, biting her lower lip in anticipation of the pleasures to come. As on that fateful night, she was dressed to impress, her slender frame highlighted by a cheongsam of flattering red silk, dark nylon pantyhose clinging tightly to her long legs, long dark hair cascading down her back and a pair of high-heeled shoes completing the ensemble. Judging from the way her lover drank in the sight of her, she’d certainly made an impression, and she moaned again as fingers danced up her legs before cupping her waist and pulling her onto his waiting lap. “Look at you,” Duncan said huskily, his breath warm upon her neck. “What happened to the shy young woman I used to know?”

“She found someone worth taking risks for.” Nylon-clad hips gave a little twitch, inspiring an immediate physical reaction, and Samantha’s smile deepened. “I’ll always love you. You know that, right?”

“I know, and it means the world to me,” Duncan said warmly, rummaging at his side for a final addition, and Samantha moaned as another length of nylon was pulled tight between her lips to serve as a cleave gag. “In fact, would you care for a… demonstration of my affection?”

An emphatic nod from the Chinese woman was all the spur he needed, and Samantha giggled at where his hands went next. Yes, every moment spent with Duncan was worth it.

If only he could stop ruining her nylons in the process…