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“Stand facing the cross,” he directed.
Trembling slightly, she stepped closer to the cross. Shaped like an X, it was made of steel inlaid with black leather. She stepped onto the metal base, heart hammering.
“Lift your arms and rest them against the cross, fully extended, so I can adjust the cuffs to your height.”
She lifted her arms as directed, wondering who he’d last tethered to the cross, and trying not to let the thought bother her. Whoever it was, she had been taller than Dahlia, or maybe she’d been wearing heels, because he had to lower the cuffs a few inches. She leaned against the padded center of the X and closed her eyes as he Velcroed her wrists against the cross.
A sense of sensual helplessness settled over her as he crouched behind her, cuffing her ankles into place. Once she was completely secured, he moved around to the other side of the cross so she could see him.
“Comfortable?” he queried, his dark blue eyes glittering.
“As much as can be expected,” she replied honestly. “It’s actually easier than I thought it would be, since the center pad gives me support.”
A sudden sharp tug of her hair jerked her head back, making her cry out in alarm and pain. His fingers still tangled in her hair, he spoke in a low, hard voice. “Is that how a slave addresses her Master?”
“Sir,” she cried, heat suffusing her face and neck. Damn it, why couldn’t she remember that?
He let her go and stepped away. He appeared a moment later in front of her. “Is this just a game to you, Dahlia? Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” she cried, stung. “I’ll do better, Sir. I promise.”
“You will,” he agreed, his voice stern. Then, to her relief, his smile returned, his tone softening. “I won’t be gone long. Let me know when I return if you’re experiencing any circulation problems, and we’ll adjust accordingly. Meanwhile”—he gestured toward a freestanding rack filled with various floggers and whips—“be thinking about your choice of impact toy.”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed, her voice cracking with nerves, her skin tingling in anticipation.
Once he’d left the room, she tested the cuffs. While they weren’t uncomfortably tight, they were definitely snug. She was unable to move at all, save for flexing her fingers and turning her head. She was truly at his mercy. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
She focused on the rack of impact toys, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of his actually using one of them on her. What if she totally freaked out and shouted her safeword before he’d even begun? She didn’t want to let him down. She didn’t want to let herself down. She’d always prided herself on rising to every challenge.
What if this time she was in too far over her head? Hayden was used to his highly trained stable of eager sub girls at the club. How could she even hope to compare?
Hayden knows who you are, she reminded herself. He said so himself—he isn’t expecting perfection. And you wanted this—you want this. Don’t blow it by being a coward.
She turned her attention back to the rack of toys. No way was she ready for the cane or the dark, angry welts it would leave behind. The crop hadn’t been so bad. In fact, she’d liked its sensual sting, but she wanted to try something new.
The whips unnerved her. That left the flogger, with its many tresses of smooth leather. In her reading, it was described as easier to take than the biting cut of a single tail. Yes, that would be the right choice for her first time on the cross.
She yelped with surprise as a hand touched her shoulder. She hadn’t heard Hayden come back into the room.
He stroked her back, his touch warm and reassuring. “Have you made your choice?”
“The flogger, Sir,” she replied, pleased both that her voice sounded steadier than she felt and that she’d finally remembered to say Sir.
“All right. Flogger it is.”
She admired the muscles in his back as he pulled the large flogger from the stand.
When he returned to her, he said, “I’ll start easy and work you up to the proper intensity. Remember to breathe, and stay as relaxed as you can.” As he stroked her cheek she leaned into his touch, breathless with nervous anticipation.
He took a step back, his eyes glittering. “Remember, don’t anticipate. Just accept what I give you.”
She managed a nod.
Though she’d meant to stay relaxed, the first slapping stroke of the leather tresses against her ass made her jerk in her restraints.
“Breathe,” he reminded her.
She sucked in some air and let it out as slowly as she could.
The next stroke was slightly harder than the first, leaving a pleasant, warm sting in its wake. He struck again, harder still, the leather slapping over both cheeks. This wasn’t so bad. It was easier to take than a spanking, for sure. She could totally do this!
