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only was she tied at the wrists and ankles, but her Master had roped her middle. I counted fifteen rotations of rope, and they went from just above her pubes to sit below her breasts. I felt like the hemp chafed me , and I experienced the delicious sensation of not being able to move. For a second or two I envied her. I hadn’t had rope play before, but imagination was a powerful thing.
    I sighed. One day my Master would come. One day I’d meet the man I was supposed to be with. But something inside drew me to Master Stephen. Perhaps he was the one for me. Or had I just convinced myself that he was the perfect partner because no other had arrived in my life and had wanted to stay? Quite possibly and—as hope had a tendency to do—it had sent me off thinking that fate had planned for us to be together.
    I shook off my fanciful musings. After all, it sounded like a load of rubbish even to me. Inside I was a girl longing to be noticed, to have a Master who would take my life in the direction it needed to go. Take me where I needed to go. A friend of mine had said that if you went looking for The One you’d never find him, but my answer had been that if you didn’t look, if you didn’t put yourself in the places where a Master would notice you, how the hell were you supposed to meet anyone?
    I frowned. It might be time to put myself right in his line of vision—to get eye contact with him—and if he looked away, at least I’d know I was wasting my time. The sad thing was, though, I was prepared to wait however long it took. He might find a new sub, but I’d still wait. Some would say I was bordering on stalker material, but when I knew something deep inside, when I had that feeling…
    He was mine. I wanted him. And he wanted me—he maybe just didn’t know it yet.
    Go over there. Make him see you—really see you.
    I wandered closer to the cross, slipping between two people and jostling others so I came out at the front of the crowd. The sub appeared to be asleep. She’d hung her head, chin to chest, looking for all the world as if she were truly out of it. Master Stephen sucked her nipple so hard it lifted her breast, elongated it, yet she didn’t groan or seem to be getting any pleasure from it at all. Maybe she was in sub-space, that wonderful place where body and mind separated.
    Her Master stepped to her side and whispered something. She didn’t react except for the slight flicker of her eyelashes. He plunged four fingers into her cunt, right up to the second set of knuckles, his thumb tip covering her clit. She jolted, came alive, and raised her head to stare at everyone watching, although her eyes were glazed. Master Stephen sucked on and lifted one hand to touch her other nipple. He tugged more than fondled, twisted rather than caressed, and my nipples reacted as though he were doing it to me.
    I wished he was.
    Her Master shoved in and out of her pussy at quite a speed—with force, too, and I knew that must be how she liked it. Rough and ready, a good old finger fuck and nipple suck. Both Masters played with her until she whimpered and tried to drop her head back, the action stopped by the cross behind her. She wiggled her fingers, clenched then unclenched her hands into fists, and I guessed she was on the edge or had the urge to be involved somehow, to touch the men back. Or perhaps her hands had gone numb, her bindings a little too tight. Either way, the fact that she could hardly move turned me on.
    “Come,” her Master said, his voice loud, like he’d intended for everyone in the room to hear him, so that those who hadn’t been watching rushed over to do so. He looked proud of her—it seemed he wanted everyone to witness her orgasm.
    He pushed his fingers—all four of them—in and out so quickly, so hard that if she could have bucked she would have. She was hungry for him—something about the way she panted gave me that idea—and I longed for some of the same, to have a Master I craved, a