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“I’m placing an inordinate amount of trust in you. Do you understand the trust I have in you?”
It was the dichotomy of BDSM she’d never fully grasped until that moment. But standing in the playroom, bound by him, and at his mercy, it finally became clear that he had to trust her just as much as she trusted him.
“Your trust is not misplaced, Sir.”
“You give me your body for my pleasure, but in exchange, I give you my very soul. In dominating you, I expose a part of myself that is shown to very few. Tonight, I give that part of me to you for your keeping.”
The weight of his words caused her heart to tighten, and her eyes prickled with tears. “I will hold it most dear, Sir.”
“Thank you.” He ran a thumb across her cheekbone and whispered, “Close your eyes, Sasha.”
All her lingering doubts had fled and she closed her eyes, feeling nothing but contentment. Even when he fastened the blindfold around her head, there was only security in his touch.
“What color are you at, little one?”
“The greenest of greens, Sir.”
He chuckled from behind her. “Good, thank you. And since you can’t see for yourself, you’ll have to take my word on how fucking hot you look bound and blindfolded.”
She loved that she appeared sexy and hot to him. Loved even more that he made her feel that way. He made her feel alive after merely existing for the last few months.
His hands cupped her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Hell, he made her feel more alive than she ever had before. And his hands were so knowledgeable. Blindfolded and bound for him the way she was didn’t make her feel nervous or scared; she felt safe and secure, and when he touched her, she felt need.
He ran his hands down her back, around her hips, and back up the front of her, just barely grazing her breasts. His thumb swirled circles at the nape of her neck and her skin prickled up in gooseflesh at the sensations he created in her body.
“What color?” he whispered while one of his hands swept down her side again.
“Still green, Sir. Your hands feel so good.”
“That’s what I want. Just relax.”
He continued stroking her and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning, but one escaped.
“Let me hear you, little one. Don’t hold back.”
He stepped way and the air around her felt colder. She listened for his footsteps but before she could work out in her mind where he was, he was back.
“I want to hear all of your noises, today,” he said.
This time it wasn’t his hands that were on her; he used something furry that made her laugh as he tickled her.
“It’s okay to laugh if the situation calls for it.”
He was relentless with the tickler and she kept laughing. She couldn’t remember ever doing so before in a playroom and wondered why. By tickling her, Cole was relieving any remaining trepidation. There was a smile in his voice when he spoke again.
“You sound so joyous when you laugh,” he said. “And your joy brings me pleasure.” He shifted so she felt his erection on her back.
She moaned.
Pressed against her, he spoke into her skin. “Tell me, little one, if you were naked right now, would you be wet? Are you desperate to be filled? Slick at the thought of me pushing inside you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And that also brings me pleasure.”
His hands were on her again, a little rougher this time and more urgent. His touch fanned the flame of arousal she’d feared quenched beyond revival. She didn’t want to take the time to examine it, or question it, or wonder if it was only Cole who could make her feel it. She just wanted to experience it.
Thankful for the blindfold, she emptied her mind of anything other than Cole and his touch. She nearly hummed in response to the sensations he created in her body.
The smack of a flogger against her butt made her jump.
“Stay with me, little one.” His voice was low and somehow comforting. “This brings me pleasure as well.” The flogger landed again. “What color are you?”
She took two deep breaths. “Green, Sir.”
“Very good. I’m not taking you to subspace. I want you here with me.”
She had always found it took her a long time to reach subspace and it was rare that she did so the first time with a Dom. She hoped she had the chance at some point in the future to play again with Cole. To see if he could get her there.
He worked the flogger over her body in an off-tempo, erratic fashion that wouldn’t allow her the ability to get lost in her head. And though he wasn’t being gentle, there was no hurting involved.
“What color, little one?”
“Green, Sir.”
She relaxed into her bonds. As Cole continued with the flogger, she felt something inside heal. Something she hadn’t known how to fix. She smiled and in that moment, she knew everything was going to be okay. She was going to be okay.
She felt like shouting from the roof and probably would have done so, but she knew if she did, he might misinterpret and stop. He continued striking her with the tails, and she welcomed each one, taking, accepting, and acknowledging their meaning. In a way it was as if he was both breaking down her wall and building it up at the same time.
She relaxed even more and she was free. Finally free. She’d never hit subspace so quickly.
“Sasha,” Cole said through the haze of pleasure. “Come back to me.”
She would go, but only for him. Because he asked and since he was the one who gave her wings.
He chuckled. “So much for my plans. Are you with me, little one?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
“For someone who claimed it was hard for her to reach subspace, that was frighteningly fast.”
“Sorry, not sorry, Sir.”
He stopped using the flogger and tenderly unbuckled her wrists. She slumped against him, perfectly content to be held. He carried her to a nearby couch, where he cradled her against his chest.
“It’s rather humorous if you think about it,” he said, stroking her hair.
“What, Sir?”
“How I once told you I would keep you guessing and off balance and yet”—he kissed her forehead—“you do the same to me.”
Chapter Six
The warning she’d been waiting for and dreaded came by text the next Sunday morning: Saturday at four I will collect what I am due. Further instructions to follow.
Her hands shook so badly, she almost dropped her phone. With trembling fingers she typed back her reply.
Yes, Sir.
Part of her felt proud that she was now at a place where he thought she’d progressed enough to handle his punishment. But a larger part of her was scared to death. At least, she thought, they’d finally get her punishment out of the way.
She sat down and tried to knit, but the yarn kept getting tangled and her fingers wouldn’t work properly. She picked up a novel she was in the middle of, but gave up when she reread the same page for the tenth time. Finally, with a huff, she picked up her journal. He wanted honesty? She’d give it to him.
Flipping to a clean page, she wrote stream of conscious thoughts until she’d filled four pages. Granted, she thought looking back over them, the pages weren’t exactly legible. Of course, he’d never said anything about her daily writing having to be legible.
