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Ilias sat forward, studying her. He wanted to know everything about her so he could give her perfect pleasure, and perfect pain. He wanted her to trust him enough to allow him to do things to her that the vanilla world would find abhorrent.
Even rape fantasy.
Ilias grimaced, dropping his head for a moment. Then he looked up.
Josslyn was still worrying her legs. The light was too dim for him to see small details, but he was sure that if there’d been more illumination, or if he’d been closer to her, he’d see crescent marks in her skin from her nails.
Enough of that.
Ilias rose and walked over. She went still when he approached.
“May I touch you?” he asked softly.
“Yes, Master Ben.”
For an odd moment, he had the urge to tell her to call him Ilias, or to use his full last name, “Bennani.” He went by Master Ben because Ben was easier to pronounce then Bennani, and someone had once told him that “Master First Name” was what British people used to use to address small boys. Still, the nickname, which he’d picked, didn’t feel right when she said it.
Ilias brushed his hand down her hair. She was pretty, which was incidental. With a scene partner, matching interests and needs were far more important than physical attraction. He’d been actively not thinking about her appearance, but as he ran his hand down her hair, he couldn’t ignore that she was attractive.
Her hair was an odd multitone brown. It showed streaks of caramel and burgundy under the bright white light of the spotlight. Her skin was a gold tone that made him think she might be Hispanic or South American. She was average height and build, though the beige-colored loose tank-dress she wore partially camouflaged her shape. The garment was short, stopping at the top of her thighs, and he was sure that if he’d ordered her onto all fours, it wouldn’t cover her ass.
The dress was also sheer enough that he could see that she wore a black strapless bra and black panties.
She made a little sound as he stroked her hair. It was almost a sigh, but he wasn’t sure if it was a sound of pleasure. He didn’t know her well enough yet.
Experimentally, he shifted to touch her face, gently caressing. She lay her cheek in his palm, letting him take the weight of her head. Another sigh, and he categorized it as a combination of pleasure and relief.
“Do you feel better when a Dom touches you?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” The weight in his palm diminished slightly. “Do you like touching subs?”
“If I said no?”
She straightened. “Then I wouldn’t ask you to touch me.”
Ilias dropped to a catcher’s crouch, trying to ignore the way one knee made a crackling noise. Their gazes locked, but only for a moment. Josslyn bowed her head.
Ilias notched a finger under her chin and raised her face. She kept her gaze on the floor, lids half lowered.
“Josslyn, do you normally trust your tops?”
At that, her eyes widened and she looked up. “Yes, of course.”
“Then it’s just me you don’t trust?”
“What? No. I mean yes, I trust you.”
“It’s fine if you don’t. We just met. But if we’re going to scene together you have to trust me.”
“I will. I know you’re a good Dom, because the overseers wouldn’t have let you in if you weren’t.”
Ilias tipped his head side to side in a “maybe” motion. “Everyone’s definition of ‘good Dom’ is different. But from what you’ve said so far, you don’t trust that your Dom will plan and execute a scene that takes care of everyone’s needs.”
She looked away, to the side rather than down, and for a moment, an expression that might have been anger crossed her features.
“Why did you ask if I liked touching subs?”
She didn’t answer.
