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Trust.
Even though I didn’t fully realize it at first, that’s what this has always been about. I pushed him away at times because I felt like letting him any closer would force me to trust him, and I knew he would see that I couldn’t do it yet, not completely. I still don’t know if I can bring myself to do it in a real way. The BDSM was a way for me to try trusting him in a safe environment, almost like a game. I was able to fantasize about it and the reason I kept having to push things farther was because I had to keep pushing the boundaries of the game. When my trust didn’t feel real, I couldn’t get off. It was that simple.
Logan doesn’t speak again until I hear gravel grinding under the wheels of the car and he comes to a stop. “Stay there,” he says, shifting the car into what I assume is park. His door opens and his feet crunch across the gravel, getting closer.
My door opens and strong hands grip me under the arm, guiding me up and out of the car. We couldn’t have gone too far, because it felt like we only drove thirty minutes, but depending on the direction he took us, that could have led us to quite the variety of places. The air feels open and wide, and even though I can’t see, I can feel we are somewhere remote and natural.
“Where are we?”
“You’ll see soon. Take one step to your right and then four steps forward.”
I pause, feeling a lurch in my stomach. He expects me to just walk where he tells me to when I can’t see anything? What if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff or something? I could fall to my death and I’d never see it coming. Literally.
“You have to trust me,” he says.
“One to my… right?” I ask, taking my foot and extending it, careful to keep my balance. I test the ground before shifting my weight and taking the first step. I do the same for the next step. “This way?” I ask.
“A little more to the right. Four steps. Yes. Good.”
My heart is pounding. I don’t know how far he wants to take this, but I feel emotionally exhausted already. It’s a constant battle not to rip the blindfold off. It feels like being confined, like I’m in a tight space without any room to stretch out and every second is intensifying the panic settling in the back of my mind.
“Now just walk forward. There will be a slight incline, but it’s not too steep.”
I suck in a breath, praying for some mystical injection of bravery to get me through this. For all I know I’m on completely level ground with no danger at all, but I don’t know, and the uncertainty has me imagining the worst. I do as he says, still slowly, treating every step like it could be a step over an endless chasm.
Each time I reach the end of one of his orders, I think it must surely be the last. And if it’s not, I keep wondering how I can handle any more of this without losing my mind. But I do, step after step, order after order, and I don’t complain. Soon, I’m stepping more surely, putting my feet forward without testing first, trusting his guidance to take me on the safe path. I don’t charge ahead blindly though. I hang on to his every word, learning to use his voice as my sight. Learning to trust it.
“Now take off your blouse,” he says.
This command gives me pause. After close to ten minutes of learning to follow his every order without hesitation, I can’t do it right away.
“You’re hesitating,” he says, “because you have no idea where you are right now. For all you know, I just walked you in full view of a public place. Dozens of people could be staring at you right now. But you’re going to take off your blouse anyway, because you trust me.”
My hands inch toward the bottom of my blouse, which I slowly pull over my head, feeling the truth of his words echo through me. I would be mortified if I really was somewhere public, but the uncertainty is turning me on. The need to trust him.
“Bra. Off,” he says.
I do as he says, feeling my nipples tighten and grow hard against the slight chilly breeze.
“Pants and panties.”
I slide both down obediently.
“Shoes.”
I kick my shoes off, conscious of the fact that I could be mooning people as I bend down to pull off my socks too.
“Good. That’s my good little Kitten.”
He moves behind me, hands pressing hard into my hips and sliding down to my thighs. His thumbs splay open, tracing the edges of my mound and spreading the electric sensation of his touch all over my body. He moves his hand over my already wet slit and begins to work me, making my knees instantly weak. To my surprise, it’s working. I’m not in the slightest bit of pain, but my body is responding to every single movement of his skillful fingers. It’s not long before I’m shaking, having to squeeze his wrist to keep from falling to my knees with pleasure.
