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"Then please, trust me that it had nothing to do with any kind of abuse."
I sighed. He had been biting me a bit, on the shoulder, on my nipples, my labia, but it never was a real hurt, just the good kind. At least, what I thought of as the good kind – the tiniest bit of hurt that reminded me that his mouth had been there, pleasuring me. Still, he had worked a small bit of pleasure/pain into our sexual experiences. It was more than I thought I would ever want or like, and so he was right. If he didn't push me a bit, I would never have suggested it on my own, too afraid of what it might mean about me.
"You're not a painslut," he said after one night where he bit my labia after licking me and I was a bit upset, thinking there was something wrong with me that I liked it. "You never will be, Kate, so get that crazy idea out of your sweet little head. Think about the pain you get after a good workout. Your muscles ache because they've been over-worked. You get lactic acid buildup in them that causes the pain and muscle tissue is actually broken down, then rebuilt. You welcome that pain because it means you're building new muscle. The tiny bit of pain you feel when I bite you just makes the pleasure all the more welcome and intense. Think of it as providing contrast which enhances the real purpose of the act – pleasure."
It made sense to me in a neurological way, but psychologically, it still made me feel uncomfortable. I was now getting used to being totally restrained, hand and foot, my eyes covered with a blindfold while he played with me, eliciting more and more response from my body and mind. In fact, I might have been too eager for Drake, for he seemed to want to proceed more slowly than I did. He told me I had to learn patience.
That he knew how fast and how far to go.
If there was one negative to our relationship, it was just that it was so constrained by his desire to keep things so compartmentalized. I had one role in his life – being his submissive. It was also difficult being unable to be open about what limited relationship we did have, to sneak around, not seeing each other outside of 8th Avenue. It made the old apartment all the more special, but at the same time, a sense of grief often filled me when I left. I knew that this relationship was probably doomed to die a natural death once we'd explored everything and reached whatever limits we both had. I also felt sad that I couldn't share the rest of my life with him. Christmas was coming and I'd be alone at the very time when I wished I had someone with me to celebrate. Drake had no family left, except a long-lost mother who he never saw.
I had to shut that thought off, push it into the back of my mind. For the present at least, I was in a state of near bliss, going through my day on the days I would meet him aroused, breathless, butterflies in my stomach thinking of his strong warm body and hands claiming me once I was completely under his control.
I trained myself not to think of ever seeing him outside of the apartment and relating to him as anything other than his play partner and submissive. I just shut that part of me off as best I could. But the sadness lingered, a tiny part of me watching myself from the outside as I walked up the steps to the old brownstone, sad for myself. Pitying myself that I'd found such a wonderful man but couldn't be his completely, couldn't have him completely as my own.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Drake was waiting for me when I arrived at the apartment on 8th Avenue on Saturday night. I'd made an excuse to stay at home alone when Dawn called me wanting to go see a film. I claimed to be sick, and luckily, she called Jill instead and I was off the hook.
I ran up the stairs, excitement building in me that tonight was the night – our first fetish party together and I wondered what he had planned. He said he'd been out to one of the leather shops in Manhattan to look for appropriate fetish wear for me and I'd gone on Friday to get waxed, so I was smooth, the way he liked. No wacky design left in the pubic hair like the attendant suggested. No heart, no landing strip. Just pure bare skin. Luckily, my skin and hair seemed the type not to react badly to the waxing and I loved how smooth I felt to the touch.
Drake stood in the doorway, smiling. He wore a really nice pair of low-slung black leather pants and nothing else, his chest and feet bare.
"There you are," he said, pulling me into his arms once I had my coat off. He rubbed his face in my hair and breathed in deeply. "You smell so good."
I wrapped my arms around his waist, my hands sliding up his strong back, over his smooth skin, and then down to cup his ass through the leather pants.
"I think I really really like the pants. What are you wearing underneath?"
"Commando," he said, grinning against my neck, his cheek raising. "I have to be ready to fuck you at the drop of a hat."
"Oh, God…" I said, gasping when his hands slipped under the hem of my dress to feel my naked pussy.
"Oh, God is right," he said, murmuring against my neck. "I don’t know if I can wait until later to fuck you but I want to at the club."
I pulled away and looked in his face, in his eyes, which were already dark with lust. "But not in front of anyone, right?"
"Katherine," he said, his voice a bit hard. "We're in scene."
I inhaled deeply and nodded. "Forgive me, Master."
"Forgiven," he said. "As if I could ever not forgive you." Then, he frowned a bit. "As for what happens tonight, do you trust me? Do you trust me to know what you need and what you can handle?"
I looked into his blue eyes. "Yes. Completely." He frowned and waited, and I realized what I'd done. "Yes, Master."
"Good girl. I decide what happens tonight, not you. Your one out is to use the safe word."
"I never want to use it, Master," I said, frowning, my voice wavering from nerves.
"Neither do I," he replied. "Now, I see I'm going to have to wipe that frown off your face." Then he turned me around in his arms, tickling me from behind. I giggled and tried to wrestle out of his arms, but he was too strong. Finally, when I was in near hysterics from his fingers, he let me go.
"Off to the bathroom," he said and smacked me on the ass. "I have something for you."
I mock-screamed at his smack, which didn’t hurt at all, and ran to the bathroom as he chased me, his hands reaching out.
I stopped inside the bathroom and leaned against the vanity, wondering what he had for me. He entered with a box in his arms. It was from the leather shop and I knew what it was – a leather corset dress as he said. He'd taken measurements of me the last time we were together and said he'd pick something out for me to wear.
"Take off your clothes."
