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Dmitri paused. That one statement was so Presley. “You need that? To always feel rewarded?”
She laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“No,” he answered, causing her laughter to cease. He believed she needed to hear what he had to say next. “Not everyone needs to hear from others that they’ve done well.”
Her hesitation wasn’t long, but enough time passed that he knew she’d considered with care what he said. “It’s how I’ve always been.”
“Yes, I know,” he said lightly in agreement. “But you need to break away from the habit of trying to please everyone, don’t you?”
She snorted into the phone. “How would you suggest I do that?”
“You already are.” He knew in this
moment that they were at the heart of one of her biggest obstacles as a submissive. While some women came into the lifestyle early enough that it didn’t cause damage, Presley wasn’t so lucky.
Those who didn’t understand her needs had mishandled her submissive tendencies. She’d been so desperate to feel rewarded that she’d given all of herself. Instead of her need being fed and answered, she’d been crushed. To be perfectly clear, he added, “You don’t need to please or hear approval from everyone, only from me.”
She stayed silent for a long few seconds as she clearly processed what he’d said, and he hoped she realized that her need to please wasn’t a fault; in fact, it was what made her a submissive. But that part of her needed to be protected and not given to those who didn’t deserve the gift.
Her long deep breaths sounded through the phone line before she said quietly, “Have you always been this sure about yourself?”
“Yes, doll, always.” He firmed his voice. “So should you be.”
* * *
On Wednesday evening, Presley sank down into her bed, sighing as she stared up at the ceiling, surrounded by the yellow walls. The room was tiny, with space only for the double bed, glass end table, and old wooden dresser, but Presley didn’t mind. The room at Cora’s had everything she needed.
Her conversation with Dmitri last night had remained on her mind all day. Not only that they’d talked well into the night, but also what he’d said about her need to please. Sure, she’d always known she held the desire to please others before herself. She’d just never thought of it until last night, that the trait made her a good submissive. She supposed she’d never pieced it together or understood that side of herself completely, but Dmitri had it right. The past weeks she wasn’t pleasing everyone, only him.
As she looked back at their time together, she noticed how happy she’d become, and she knew it was because Dmitri took her need to please and fueled it. When she did as he asked, he engulfed her in approval, and when he disapproved, he made himself clear so she could correct herself. He wanted her to succeed, so he could reward her, and within that knowledge, she found contentment.
At the same time, each day that passed and every telephone call they shared seemed to bring them closer together, and that increased her arousal. He held a power over her that she couldn’t ignore, and dammit, he’d removed her right to masturbate. Well, she could masturbate but not orgasm, so what was the damn point?
She remembered the authority in his eyes, how incredible it was when he focused solely on her, and how his confident touches simmered across her skin. She couldn’t forget that he seemed to know exactly how to touch her to bring forth a reaction and how his deep voice made her shiver . . .
Good God, would she ever not be wet again?
The ringing of her phone dragged her away from her thoughts, and she reached over to the nightstand to grab the cordless phone. She clicked it on and raised the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
Dmitri paused before he said, “You sound tired.”
“Am a bit,” she admitted.
“What’s wrong?” His voice firmed. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Oh . . .” She hesitated, the throb between her thighs frustrating her. Each night had seemed longer than the one before. “I guess, a little trouble. How was your day?”
“Busy day. I just went out for dinner with the guys, and I’m on my way home now.” He hesitated. “Give me one second, doll, I need to pull the car over.” When he spoke next, his voice dipped low. “Where are you in the house?”
“In my bedroom.” She scrunched up her nose, doing her best to ignore the funny things happening in her southern regions. “Why?”
“Is the door closed?”
“Yes,” she replied with reluctance, and repeated, “Why?”
“What are you wearing?”
She laughed, yet even to her own ears, she sounded tense and edgy. “You sound like some perverted phone stalker.”
