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Bending down, he lifted her into his arms. She was crying audibly now. She buried her face against his chest as he carried her the few feet from the playroom to the bedroom.
He set her gently on the mattress and sat beside her. She curled in on herself, hiding her face with her hands. “I’m sorry,” she choked between sobs. “I’m sorry, Sir. I tried. I did. I couldn’t…” She dissolved into more tears.
Heart wrenching, Damon lay beside her and pulled her gently into his arms. Again, she buried her face against him.
“Don’t cry, Ellen.” He stroked her hair. “This was my fault.” He held her close, that strange, disconcerting tenderness again assailing him.
Watch it, his internal guard dog warned. Don’t let your feelings get in the way. Stay focused.
Eventually, she calmed, her breath easing, her body stilling. When she pulled away from him, he let her go. She had soaked the front of his T-shirt. Lifting his torso, he stripped off the shirt and used a dry part to gently dab her wet cheeks and nose.
She looked so woebegone that it almost made his heart hurt. He had the sudden, crazy urge to kiss her. To take her into his arms and explore her sweet, soft mouth with his as he soothed away her pain.
He banished the desire, sternly reminding himself he was her Dom, not her lover. Still, he could give her the aftercare she needed.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re not in trouble, Ellen. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. I wasn’t sensitive enough to your cues. You’re such an obedient, well-trained slave that it didn’t occur to me you were experiencing anything more than typical sub jitters.”
Hmm. Maybe precisely because she was so well trained, she hadn’t protested the way the women he was used to sceneing with would have. Instead, like a highly trained soldier who would never question her commanding officer, she’d lowered her head and run straight into battle.
Damon stared up at the wooden beams that comprised the ceiling as he formulated his thoughts. “I know The Enclave doesn’t use safewords and there was no place for one in our contract. But I’m wondering. Maybe you should have one with me so something like this doesn’t happen again. Because, I have to tell you, while I get their rationale about no exit doors and this-isn’t-a-scene-but-a-lifestyle-mentality, it doesn’t really apply here.”
He placed his hands behind his head, clear now on what he wanted to say. “I mean, think about it. We’ve only got seven days. That’s not very long to really get to know someone’s triggers and limits, even in this kind of intense setup. We’re just getting started and I don’t plan to ease up. Quite the opposite. I intend to push you to your very limits, and maybe a little beyond.”
He let the excitement enter his voice as he warmed to his topic. “This is a chance for both of us to delve into our darkest, deepest fantasies while we engage in full-on 24/7 intensive Master/slave interaction. That means I’m going to be pushing some buttons I might not even realize are there. I don’t want you white-knuckling your way through something that’s freaking you out. I don’t want to put you through another situation like what just happened.”
On a roll now, certain he’d solved the problem, Damon continued, “We’re on Enclave property, yes. But we can make our own rules. So, I, as your Master of the moment, rule that you’re going to have a safeword, and you’re going to use it when you need it. I know enough about you already to be confident you’ll only use it as a last resort when I’m not picking up on your cues and you’re at a breaking point. As soon as you use it, all action ceases and we stop and figure out what went wrong.”
He finally turned to her. “So, what’s your safeword, Ellen?”
Instead of the grateful, relieved expression he had expected, Ellen looked positively miserable. Her brows were furrowed, the hurt in her eyes impossible to ignore.
“What?” he demanded, confused and a little annoyed. “What’s the problem now?”
Chapter 12
Ellen took a deep breath as she struggled to compose herself. Beneath her tears, another emotion was at play—anger. She was furious with herself for allowing her irrational fears to get in the way of her submission. Where were her grace and training?
And, she had to be honest, she was also angry at Master Damon, in whom she’d placed her trust, for failing to “pick up on her cues” to the point that she’d fallen headlong into panic mode.
She reminded herself that Master Damon was not an Enclave trainer. He didn’t seem to embrace or perhaps even understand their philosophy about no safewords. That wasn’t unreasonable—not really. Her scene friends back in Charlotte hadn’t understood the concept either until she’d explained it.
But he was trying to understand now. She owed it to him, and to herself, to be open and honest. A true slave kept nothing from her Master. Even if he was only a temporary Master, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t give him her all.
She shifted on the bed to a kneeling position facing Master Damon, who still lay on his back, looking better than any man had a right to. Why did he have to be so damned handsome? It was distracting.
Straightening her spine, she placed her hands on her thighs, palms up to indicate receptiveness to her Master. The familiar pose helped to calm her and center her thoughts.
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
“I insist.”
“I do have a safeword. Or rather, I used to have one before I came to The Enclave. While I was there, I worked with trainers who were so attuned to every nuance of a submissive’s actions and reactions that I never felt the need for one. Don’t get me wrong. They did push me, sometimes further than I thought I could go. But precisely because I had no safeword, I didn’t look for a way out. I didn’t want or need one.”
He frowned, his confusion evident. But all he said was, “Go on.”
She looked down at her upturned palms as she thought how best to explain herself. “For someone unfamiliar with Enclave methods, not allowing a safeword might seem like an unfair burden to place on a sub. But really, the onus is on the Dom—the Master. He is responsible for keeping her safe even while pushing her to the limits of her submission. This in turn frees up the sub to truly give her all. She knows he’s paying attention all the time—not just when she uses some magic word.”
Ellen brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, shit,” she blurted. “That didn’t come out right, Sir. I didn’t mean to be impertinent.”
