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Learning that you can trust your Master. Can you trust me?" She opened her hands, drew in a breath. He waited on her. Gave her the time and space to pull it all back together, steady herself. At length, she lifted her gaze to his.
"I want to. "
"All right, then. " Tyler resisted the overwhelming urge to draw her into his arms, hold her close until she realized she didn't always have to manage her fear alone. "I'm going to do a little more explaining. I didn't choose this idly, or to make you panic. The whole process I described centers you on just one sensation. Physical touch. You're aware of your total helplessness. The only thing that tells you what's happening is my touch on your body. And gradually your thoughts will float away and there will only be sensation. When that happens, your fear will float away. You'll start to feel pleasure in that stillness. 'God is in the silence'," he reminded her. "It was your scroll that made me think of it. "
"In the empty space," she murmured.
"You can do this, because you aren't doing it alone. I won't leave you for a second.
You'll feel no pain. You'll sense nothing but my hands on you, your Master's hands your only focus. "
She closed her eyes so she could say it, a child's question. "You won't leave me there?"
"You have my word, angel. " He touched her mouth with his fingers and she opened her eyes to find him in front of her. "I won't be more than two feet from you at any time. I swear. "
"You're not doing the things I expected. Making me call you Master, get on my knees and suck your cock. "
He winced. "Is that how you do it with your subs? Just strip, let me tie you up and I'll torment you until I get you off?"
She looked startled, then inclined her head. "Touche. "
"That said, with male subs it is likely more physical," he acknowledged. "What they want is simpler. They don't necessarily play a lot of games with themselves about sex. Women are more emotionally complex. Sometimes they don't know what it is they want until they feel it, and it can change from session to session. " He smiled. "It makes being a heterosexual Master very challenging.
"There's a time and a place for passion, the rise of possession in its rougher forms.
But a submissive's surrender is a sweet, sweet gift. And perhaps a male sub comes to it in a more primal state. Most Masters enjoy the process of wooing, of winning that gift.
And every woman is different. "
"You must think I'm incredibly foolish and weak. "
"Anything but. " And he said it with an instant fierceness that warmed the chill inside her. "Marguerite, most Masters and Mistresses face this training with trepidation.
They slog through, maybe enjoy some aspects of it, but they're always uncomfortable with giving up their control. You're obviously terrified at a bone-deep, phobic level.
And yet here you are, doing it anyway. In my book, that's damn brave. And your opening up to me specifically means a great deal. Come on then. " He took one of her cold hands in his. "It will be all right. "
Such a simple reassurance but one she held to as he guided her to the side of the tub and picked up the head mask. "Lift your arms and twist your hair up so it will be tucked in and won't get wet. "
He reached out as she complied, ran a hand down her side, over her hip. "You're lovely, Marguerite. I'm hard just looking at you, just breathing in your scent. Put your arms at your sides now. "
It was silly but the sensual compliment did reassure her, warm her. He eased the hood down over her head, laced it securely so she felt the restriction on her neck, the sides of her head, nose and ears. Darkness descended and noise became muffled but discernible, which she knew would end when he had her head under the water.
"Tyler?"
"I'm here. Stand where you are and don't move. I'm sitting on the edge of the tub, just looking at you. Your breasts, the nipples drawn up hard and firm. Your soft cunt, long legs. Those pink lips of your mouth and your sex, making me thinking of stretching either or both with my cock. You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. "
He caressed her pussy and she gasped at the surprise of not hearing or seeing him coming. And at the fact that his words had made her wet again, despite her trepidation.
"Tyler. I can't handle. . . hands in the dark. "
Taking both of her hands, Tyler let her feel his grip, warm and sure. "They're my hands. Me. Only me. And it won't be dark for long, I promise. Trust me. " Carefully, as he would guide a wild animal, he brought her to the side of the tub.
The paleness of her skin, the long legs, the faint tremor through her breasts as she moved and an ass that he could pet and stroke forever until she was writhing with the stimulus. It all had him suppressing a groan. He wanted to bury himself in her wet heat, again and again. He'd like to spend a week on each feature. He wanted to devour her whole, now.
To rein in his passion, to serve her best, he turned her so her back was facing him.
So he could see more clearly the marks she hadn't wanted him to see or ask about. The marks he'd felt when he removed her shirt. Small circles, two lines of them going up either side of her spinal column. At her shoulder blades they arced out and curled over and under like a hideous Art Deco rendering of angel wings.
