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He stared down at her, holding perfectly still for several long, slow beats, his cock pulsing in her throat. Pressure built behind her eyes, a dark thread of panic curling its way through her gut.
Reflexively, she tried to pull back, but his grip on the back of her head only tightened, holding her in place. Her rational mind informed her it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds since she’d drawn a breath—she was in no medical danger.
The pressure continued to mount as he bored into her with blazing eyes, his grip tight in her hair. The panic blossomed into something dark and hot. Black spots appeared in front of her eyes. Heart slamming in her chest, Dahlia jerked back, her hands flying from behind her back as she struggled against him.
Hayden at once pulled away from her. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his face creased with concern. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”
She gulped and sucked in a huge breath, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I couldn’t breathe. I just…I panicked,” she offered helplessly.
Hayden drew her into his arms. “Hey, shh. Dahlia, sweetheart, slow down. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Breathe.” He stroked her hair as she came back to herself.
What had happened? She’d handled a bona fide caning without freaking out, but thirty seconds of breath play had reduced her to an animal in full fight-or-flight mode.
After a while, she pulled back and looked up at Hayden. “Sorry.” But was sorry enough, or had she just ruined everything? “I guess I didn’t realize breath play was a trigger for me, or whatever you call it.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Hayden replied sincerely, his expression sober. “You’re doing so incredibly well that I keep forgetting what a newbie you are.”
Relief flooded Dahlia. He wasn’t pissed off. “Maybe,” she ventured, “maybe we need to dial it back a notch. Take a break, you know?”
Hayden rose to his feet, pulling her upright along with him. “No, Dahlia. That’s the last thing you need. You just experienced a moment’s panic that got out of control. It’s like falling from a horse. You need to get right back in the saddle. Otherwise you’re letting fear control you, instead of conquering it.”
Without waiting for a reply, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her from the dungeon into the bedroom. He laid her gently on her stomach on the bed and sat beside her. Leaning over her, he kissed her shoulder as he ran his hands soothingly over her back.
“Just relax while your body has a chance to absorb all that excess adrenaline still flooding your bloodstream.” He massaged her shoulders, easing away tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
She closed her eyes, relaxing as he gently kneaded her muscles, moving his fingers expertly along her spine. “A girl could get used to this,” she sighed happily.
Hayden chuckled above her. “Enjoy it while it lasts, sub girl. In a few minutes, you’re getting back on the horse.”
~*~
They returned to the dungeon. Hayden brought Dahlia to stand on the yoga mat beneath the portable suspension rack. “Wait up,” he instructed, forgetting for a moment that he hadn’t yet taught her that position. “Stand with your legs slightly apart,” he amended, “wrists crossed above your head. That’s the wait up position.”
As Dahlia obeyed, Hayden let his gaze move over her pretty, round breasts. An idea formed in his mind. “Stay just like that while I get a few things.”
Hayden was stoked. Things had nearly derailed when he’d pushed too fast with the breath play. The thing was, Dahlia could take more—a lot more. He was sure of it. Fizzing with excitement, he got the things he needed from the supply cabinet.
He returned to her with a hank of rope, a pair of nipple clamps, the butterfly vibrator with its remote control and a tube of lubricant. He set down the items, save for the rope, on the small incidental table he kept in the dungeon.
“Have you ever been properly tied up?” he asked, envisioning her trussed in a crisscross of rope, only breasts and cunt exposed as she hung suspended from the rack. They would do that, and more, as he took her deeper into erotic submission.
She stared at the rope in his hands and swallowed visibly. “No, Sir,” she whispered.
“For now, we’ll keep it simple. I’m just going to bind your wrists. Place your hands in front of your chest, fingers loosely curled, knuckles and elbows touching.” He waited as she obeyed. “That’s it. Perfect.”
He worked quickly, tying a flat, compact knot between her wrists, one that wouldn’t tighten down when tension was applied to the rope. “All okay?” he queried, checking the bonds.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied in a somewhat breathless voice. Her nipples, he noted with approval, were fully erect.
“Now, lift your arms above your head,” he instructed. “I’m going to clip your wrists to the strap and then we’ll adjust the height.”
