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“Done,” I groan.
“Any other hard limits?”
“I guess I… don’t want to ever feel… dehumanized. Or humiliated. Like I no longer matter as a person.”
“Okay, write it down.”
“He’ll think I need therapy.”
“No, he won’t,” she laughs. “Write it down, wildflower.”
Hard limit
Not feeling human.
Feeling degraded.
“Do you think he’d feel insulted by me writing that?” I ask.
“No. I mean, has he ever made you feel like that?” she asks.
“No. Never.”
“Exactly. Look, this is aboutyourcomfort, not his. He’s the one with the ten-inch dick that wants to brutalize your insides. If he has a problem with anything you write, then he can fuckrightoff.”
I glance behind me, checking that the door is closed for the fifth time in ten minutes.
“Good point,” I decide, taking a mouthful of lukewarm mint tea that Grey made for me. “I’ll treat this as a test. If he has a problem withanyof it, then it’s fuckingbyeand I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“Exactly.”
Blood pumps riotously through my veins as I say it, even though I know just based on the energy and the little pep talk he gave me when he handed me the paper about me being free to write anything I like, no consequences, no judgment, that he wouldn’t object to me expressing myself.
And if he does, well, he’s already helped me a lot more than he knows. At least I now feel the touch and scent of him on my body. I can live with that.
“So… kinks,” she drawls, wiggling her eyebrows naughtily.
“Stop,” I smirk, feeling my cheeks warm. “I can’t write them down, for fuck’s sake.”
“Well, he wants you to. He’ll probably get off on it.”
“You think?”
“Oh, for sure. He’ll be slapping the salami to that list on the nights he’s not with you.
“Stoppp.”
“Plus, he’s asking what you like, right? That means he wants to accommodate. Do you know how fucking lucky you are, woman? You basically have your own personal sex God at your disposal. You’d better make the fucking most of it, girl, or I’ll fucking come over there and spank you myself.”
I dissolve into giggles which loosen the ball of anxiety knotting in my stomach.
“Now, kinks,” she grins.
“Kinks… Well, I guess I like the way he restrains me… as long as I’m allowed to say stop.”
“Okay. Write that down.”
“God, I’m gonna die of shame before he can fuck me again,” I moan.
