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“There’s no anger or spite involved,” he said. “I deeply appreciate every woman who lets me hurt her. I admire the courage, the sacrifice it takes. I revel in my partners’ reactions.” He leaned over me, braced on one arm. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m soft, or that I want to communicate love. Dominating and hurting someone is a tactile, physiological thing for me, a physical function, a release.”
Don’t cry. If you cry, he’ll walk.Maybe I should have let him walk, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to understand. I was drawn to him as much as he was drawn to me. I wanted to see if we could work.
Maybe…maybe what he described would feel as hot as our rough, grasping work room sex. I needed release, not some serious relationship, while I got my life back together. In that way, we were a lot alike. Or was that just a rationalization, because he was hovering over me with a gargantuan erection I could make out through his pants?
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking how to convince you to…to let me try. Do you think I would be strong enough to withstand the stuff you like to do?”
“My sadism? Yes, you’re physically strong enough.” His lips flattened into a line. “But emotionally… That’s the part that worries me. I’m not a psychiatrist. I wouldn’t know how to fix you if some part of you…” He touched my head, wrapped his fingers over my addled brain. “If some part of you here got messed up.”
I looked away from him. “I know a lot of crazy people. They’re not so bad.”
“Juliet.”
“I’ll try not to be too emotional, okay?” I could feel myself blushing, because my ass still smarted, and I wanted him to fuck me right now. “Maybe I’ll get excited by your kind of pain. Maybe I’ll love it. I might be as masochistic as you are sadistic. I’ve never done any of the edgier stuff, so I have no way of knowing—”
“Look at me.”
His sharp command took me aback, but his tone propelled me to obey. I lifted my chin as he pinned my arms down on either side of me. Our eyes met, and his held mine with the full force of his dominant authority. Maybe his stare was meant to scare me. It did.
“I want to explore my fantasies with you, Sparkles. I want it very much. I want to do all kinds of perverse, painful, lustful things to you, but it will be pure power exchange. That’s it. I can’t give you love and forever after. It wouldn’t be a romance.”
“You’ve said that four or five times now.” I strained against his hands. “How stupid do you think I am? My last ‘romance’ ended up with me getting trashed and making your godforsaken acquaintance.”
He lowered himself over me, his arm snaking around my waist. Our lips almost touched. His cock felt like an iron bar against my hip. “When we go sadist/masochist together,” he said, “we’re going to have to work on that sassy mouth.”
When, notif.
His knee pressed between my legs, force and dominance, and I wondered if I actually was stupid. In my vulnerable position, I could feel how strong he was, could feel the leashed violence in his touch. Heenjoyed hurting women. For whatever reason, I wanted him to hurt me and make me come again the frenzied way I’d come last night.
“So…where do we start?” I asked. “If we’re going to try this?” He still hadn’t let me go.
“We start with warnings.”
“Oh.”
“I’m into full control, Juliet. Encompassing control.” He stroked fingers down my bare hip and thigh, down to the waistband of my shorts, emphasizing my nakedness, my exposure. I pressed my legs together, hiding the heat and wetness his words had caused. “Has your BDSM research ever led you into the realm of consensual non-consent?” he asked.
I squirmed under his touch. “Is that some kind of fantasy realm?”
“No, it’s not a realm.” He let go of me and tugged my panties and shorts back up with an irritated sound. “Sit up, right here beside me. This is important—negotiation point one. Consensual non-consent is a fetish, a sexual practice. It means that I set the boundaries in our sessions, and you won’t have the option to opt out of anything I desire.”
“What about safe words?”
“I don’t do safe words.” He dismissed the cornerstone of safe, sane, and consensual BDSM with a flick of his hand. “I need my scenes to feel real, like I’m one hundred percent in control. Consensual non-consent means that you give up the ability to say yes or no once we’ve started exchanging power in a scene.”
“But I can stop you if I have to, right? I can leave anytime?” My voice strained to the high end.
He gave me a dry look. “I’m not in the business of committing felonies. You would, of course, be free to leave our power exchange relationship at any time. But as long as you were in it with me, I would maintain complete control of you by any means I desired.”
By any means…That could encompass so many things.
“Of course, in the beginning, we’d go slow,” he said, noticing my alarm. “We’d start with short sessions, and stay within limited boundaries until we built trust.”
“Like training?”
“Like, you doing whatever I demanded physically and sexually, and seeing if you could deal with it. It’s not all sex,” he warned me. “It’s other things too.”
