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Josslyn took a deep breath and held it, trying to control the snaking feelings of panic and anger.
“Breathe, Josslyn.”
“You aren’t going to top me because you think I’m not a good sub and so I’m going to go another weekend without anything fun. I won’t even get my riding crop and rope and—”
“Breathe.” This time the word was hard and sharp.
Josslyn sucked in air.
“Now exhale. Inhale again. Good. Breathe with me.”
Josslyn stared at his full lower lip as she matched her breathing to his.
After a minute, she gingerly relaxed in his lap. He didn’t stop her from leaning against his chest, and his hand didn’t leave her leg. In fact, he was not only keeping her legs spread, but his thumb moved gently over her skin. That more than anything made her feel better.
“I want to make something very clear.” He was almost whispering, and she could feel the puffs of air from each word against her hair.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I would never question if someone was submissive. That’s the submissive’s choice and journey.”
She bit down on the urge to push back, to remind him of what he’d said before.
“Submission is a spectrum, a continuum. And I don’t just mean different subs submit in different ways. I mean that each submissive has their own continuum of submission. You walked in here and knelt on the cushion. I’m guessing that for you that felt right, but probably not momentous. It wasn’t a deeply emotional choice.”
“It wasn’t,” she confirmed softly. “It felt right. I was excited when I walked in, more excited when I saw it.”
He gave her a little squeeze, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret that.
“For someone else, kneeling is momentous. It’s further to the intense, or extreme, end of their personal continuum.”
“Makes sense,” she agreed when he paused.
“I think that you haven’t been pushed enough. I think that you’ve been operating in the shallower end of your own submission.”
Again, he paused. Silence stretched, and she realized he wasn’t going to say more. He hadn’t asked a question, but he was waiting for a response.
“Because I don’t trust anyone enough to jump into the deep end.”
Another little squeeze, and then he gently but firmly pushed her thigh to the side, forcing her legs open.
“May I?” he asked in her ear.
His words fanned the sensitive skin below her ear and she shivered as she nodded.
“I need to hear it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Master Ben laid his hand over her pussy.
She’d expected it, and yet still jerked like she’d been shocked. That in turn pressed her sex against his hand. He didn’t do anything, just held her, his palm and four fingers covering her, his thumb tucked into the crease where thigh met torso. His hand felt warm and hard, and she wanted to grind against his touch.
“An hour?”
She hadn’t realized she’d asked the question out loud until he replied with, “An hour of what?”
“Sorry, I was just wondering how long we’ve been in here,” she said. “An hour, two?”
