Lucky me, I've already read this book which was out yesterday with Ellora's Cave, because Nara is my critique partner! This is such a unique and great story! Here's an excerpt from Dungeon Gourmet :
With all the elements of her meditation in place, Sarai lay back. He’d outdone himself when he planned this particular torment. She should have followed her first instinct and never opened the auto-respond email from Bond.
A silver moon barely softened the room’s indigo shadows. Outside crickets chirped, and katydids rapped in time. They seemed to say Mas-ter-Bond, Mas-ter-Bond, repeating like monks chanting. Deeper in the forest a night bird added its voice, Lick-her-well, Lick-her-well.
Sarai tried to put her mind outside in the night, but the collar at her neck, the cuffs at her wrists and ankles, bound her mind inside her body, locked her into Bond’s world.
Velcro bonds. She could unfasten them when she chose. She could toss them aside and sleep without them if she wanted to. Her rules, he said. Make it as real as you need. They might as well be chains. They might as well be manacles welded in place.
Her hands had put them in place. At least they looked like her slender fingers. A scar marked the thumb that pressed fuzzy patch into looped square—a thin white line cut by a glass broken doing dishes. Her scar. His hands. They were as much Bond’s as if he pulled them on over his own hands like gloves. His will controlled them.
His fingers fastened the padded collar. His voice spoke to her, the way it had in email, the tone as thick and sensual as one of his French sauces, as clear as if his lips were against her ear.
“You dream à deux tonight. Feel me as a duet. I could make you believe I am two. Make you know it. This you don’t understand. But you know this truth. It makes you simmer inside, this thing you pretend not to want. Feel that evidence, how much you don’t want. Feel it there, hot between your thighs. You get so wet, my pet. You get wet just from the sound of my voice.”
Fever turned crisp, clean sheets to a rumpled, sweaty tangle as Bond’s words made themselves felt. Cotton slid over her skin with every twitch and turn, relentless lover’s hands. Sweat slicked her body.
“Feel both Bonds. The one who knows your body and the one who knows the secrets you hide from yourself.”
Did she have secrets she didn’t know?
“I want you stripped bare, a naked slave to passion, bound and vulnerable to her Master’s probing. He will probe with four hands and two sets of teeth to tug and tease your secrets to your lips.”
“I don’t want that,” she said out loud. “I don’t need two. One should be enough. One is enough.” The words hung hollow in the air. They felt like a lie.
A voice she didn’t know whispered in her mind. It would be nice to try, like a taste test. Two tongues. Twenty fingers. Twenty sticky fingers.
She turned toward the clock. Twenty minutes. She’d been bound twenty minutes. The night stretched like a journey in front of her. She would be lost before morning. Her mind would be the first to go missing. Maybe she’d lost it before tonight.
She wanted at least one Bond—a real, touchable one—to walk through her bedroom door and spread her like a meal on white linen. She wanted him to probe her. She wanted to watch him lick his fingers, suck at each one like her taste was a rare delicacy to be savored. And she didn’t care about being at his mercy, or being bound by his desires. She wanted him to sink his teeth into her.