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“Communication is important in BDSM. If I don’t know what you like, what you dislike, and what your triggers are, it’s hard for me to make our time together educational and pleasurable for you.” He felt as if he were giving a guest lecture at a college. He didn’t think he had a teaching fetish, but this was interesting.
“Well, how come you don’t have to give me your checklist? Knowing you know all that stuff about me now is embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed, Trouble. Our kinks line up a little too well, so don’t worry about me judging you. In the kink community, people are very accepting, even if you’re into things they aren’t.”
“Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay?”
“Exactly. See, you know things.”
“Well, Janine tells me things, and I tend to remember the parts that sound important.” She sat in the chair next to his, staring at the blank television screen. “I still can’t believe I actually showed up today. I’ve been trying to psych myself up all week, but in the back of my mind I thought I’d chicken out.”
Fear he understood. Some of his underlying tension melted away. Her eyes were still hidden mostly by hair, so he tucked a lock of it behind her ear. “So what made you get in your car and come over?”
“I told myself I was going to the gym until I was sitting in your driveway. Ringing the doorbell was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.”
“I respect that this is a struggle for you. It’s impressive that you came anyway. Hopefully it’ll help you answer some questions about yourself, if nothing else.” He flipped through her questionnaire again briefly then laid the papers aside. “This gives me enough information to work with for now. Do you have a safeword in mind?”
“I thought Masters didn’t do safewords.”
“I do. I watch carefully, too, though. With most people you can tell when they’re getting close to their limit. It’s never my intention to hurt someone past what they can bear. Leaving emotional scars isn’t one of my kinks.” He was a safe, sane, and consensual guy when it came to BDSM, but he knew some people who weren’t. They were generally the asshats who gave BDSM a bad name. Banner drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair once before he caught himself. A strong desire to move things along was making him impatient, but rushing her wouldn’t be fair. “Besides, you haven’t agreed to be my slave. But even if you did, with me you get a safeword.”
Shit. Had he really just implied she might agree to be his slave at some point? It was as though he’d left a huge yet hanging over them. Nothing like making the girl uncomfortable by laying his cards on the table.
“If I was eager to try being a slave, what would you do?”
He smiled, wondering if his metaphorical fangs were evident. “We would need to have a long discussion about what that meant to both of us, and we’d have to see whether we were suitable for each other.”
“So BDSM is all consensual, then?” Her eyebrows rose, as if she didn’t believe it.
“In the mainstream BDSM community, yes. It may not always feel that way to the slave, but in reality the option to walk away is always there.” He let some of the darkness within him show in his expression. “Of course there are people who live on the fringes of BDSM who blur the lines.”
“Do you blur the lines?”
Deliberately he paused, enjoying the hint of apprehension he saw in her face. Being a bastard was fun, but since she didn’t know him well, he wasn’t sure how seriously she’d take it.
“No. My slaves are free to leave me if that’s what they want.” The last few hadn’t really been slaves anyway, which had been frustrating for both parties.
“Have a lot of slaves chosen to leave you?”
“In the past few years I’ve ended relationships with a few women who told me they were slaves, but were actually submissives who thought slavery sounded dangerous and exciting. The reality wasn’t something they adjusted to very well.” Being asked to submit outside of the bedroom hadn’t gone over well. His old frustrations welled up, but dwelling on how difficult it was to find someone to suit him, someone who wanted what he wanted, didn’t fix the problem.
She turned to look at him, her eyes round. “So you’re strict?”
“Very.”
“Are you going to punish me a lot?” She wet her lips.
He could almost feel the smooth wooden handle of the tawse in his hand. Fuck. When he was around this girl his imagination was like live-streaming porn.
“That depends on if you’re a good girl or a bad girl.”
A small whimper escaped her, and the sound went straight to his groin.
“Do you like pain, Kate, or is it the idea of being punished?”
She took refuge in silence. Fair enough. She might not know yet.
“Should my safeword be long, so there’s no confusion?” Kate finally asked.
