“Like this.” He wrapped his hand around my throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the firm grip on my most vulnerable spot made my heartbeat quicken. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He dropped his hand. “I check in frequently. What’s most important to me is that you’re enjoying yourself, even when I’m hurting you.” He paused, reevaluated. “Especially when I’m hurting you. If anything feels uncomfortable…just tell me. I won’t be upset. I won’t be disappointed. You’re safe here.”
“Okay.” He spoke at a slow, easy pace, but I still felt my mind reeling to digest all the information.
Those brown eyes met mine again. As though he could tell I was overwhelmed, he boiled it down for me in simple turns. “I want complete surrender. I want you to give up control. I don’t want a single thought to cross your mind unless I put it there.”
Fuck. Why did my throat go tight with want at that?
“Your turn,” he said.
“I…what?”
“Tell me what you want.”
“In every other aspect of my life…I’m kinda a badass. Right? I’m always the first to set. The last to leave. I work hard, but I don’t put up with other people’s shit. And I’m the most ride-or-die friend you’ll ever meet. I’m always like…on. I want to learn how to surrender.”
“Do you remember your words?”
“Give. Pray. Eyes. Drop. Mercy.”
“Good. These are trigger words. When I say them, I’m looking to evoke a certain response. If, after today, you decide you want to continue, I’ll train you to respond to these words. Are you following?”
“Yes.”
He finished his turn at mancala. I scowled at the board.
“You’re good at this game,” I said. I tried not to sound mad about it, but I wasn’t good at losing. “Do you play…a lot?”
I glanced up at him, and I knew he could read between the lines.
What I was really asking was:do you play with other girls like me a lot? Am I special, or am I just another submissive in a long line of submissives?
“I have more years than you. I’ve racked up more games.”
Before I could interrogate him more, we were interrupted by a man in a dog suit. The dog-man didn’t seem to have full control of his fabricated tail yet, because it swiped across our makeshift table, knocking the mancala board.
“Whoops! Sorry, Sir.” A man hooked his fingers around the “dog” collar, yanking him away from us.
“Get your pet under control,” Phantom warned.
But—disaster! The marbles had shifted in their cups, mixing up our plays.
“Saved by the dog,” Phantom said. “I guess it will have to be a tie.”
I huffed. “You’re only saying that because I was winning.”
The edges of his eyes crinkled. I was irritated, but he was amused. “To be continued.”
“But you agree, right? That I was winning? Because I was.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out that coil of rope.
“I want to tie your wrists together. Is that okay?”
My bad mood vanished. Electricity tripped up my skin.Oh, goddess. We’re starting.
