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“Why, are you used to doms not taking no for an answer?”
“That was sometimes true with one particular partner, but more likely the case would be that I push myself too far past my limits because I’m not always aware that lines have blurred. I think that when I get into a particular headspace sometimes that I forget that I have a life outside of the bedroom that I need to be mindful of and that I need to protect. So, I’ll do anything at that moment to keep the pleasure coming, only to regret it later. I don’t like having regrets.”
Tim wasn’t a big fan of regrets, either, and he had the chance, he’d track down whatever dom or doms who’d made her so squirrelly about giving her consent again and put a fist through their faces. Fetishists had bad enough reputations from unfounded shit without people fucking things up by not offering their partners basic respect and for not learning their cues.
“I would do my best not to push you to places that hurt in ways you don’t like,” he said, “but I’d expect you to communicate with me and tell me what’s going through your head.”
He caught her slow nod in his periphery.
“I like to experiment,” she said. “Pain, I like it sometimes. I don’t make a very good slave—I’m gonna be upfront about that—but I like some rough play when I’m in the right headspace. I’m not a great actress, so role-playing would be awkward, but if you’d like me to verbalize what I want, I can be articulate enough.”
Damn.“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve gotten to play with a pro.”
“I’m not a pro. Just not a novice.”
“Close enough in my book.”
She’d make things so much easier, at least as far as sex was concerned.
Not too easy, though, he hoped. If she was too perfectly compatible, he was going to be a fucking bear when it was time for her to pack up her few belongings and move on to the next place—strings attached or not.
He hadn’t felt so optimistic about the prospect of suitable companionship for years, so naturally, she was going to go away. That was the way shit always happened in his life.
