by Tara Sue Me
“I’m placing an inordinate amount of trust in you. Do you understand the trust I have in you?”
It was the dichotomy of BDSM she’d never fully grasped until that moment. But standing in the playroom, bound by him, and at his mercy, it finally became clear that he had to trust her just as much as she trusted him.
“Your trust is not misplaced, Sir.”
“You give me your body for my pleasure, but in exchange, I give you my very soul. In dominating you, I expose a part of myself that is shown to very few. Tonight, I give that part of me to you for your keeping.”
The weight of his words caused her heart to tighten, and her eyes prickled with tears. “I will hold it most dear, Sir.”
“Thank you.” He ran a thumb across her cheekbone and whispered, “Close your eyes, Sasha.”
All her lingering doubts had fled and she closed her eyes, feeling nothing but contentment. Even when he fastened the blindfold around her head, there was only security in his touch.
“What color are you at, little one?”
“The greenest of greens, Sir.”
He chuckled from behind her. “Good, thank you. And since you can’t see for yourself, you’ll have to take my word on how fucking hot you look bound and blindfolded.”
She loved that she appeared sexy and hot to him. Loved even more that he made her feel that way. He made her feel alive after merely existing for the last few months.
His hands cupped her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Hell, he made her feel more alive than she ever had before. And his hands were so knowledgeable. Blindfolded and bound for him the way she was didn’t make her feel nervous or scared; she felt safe and secure, and when he touched her, she felt need.
He ran his hands down her back, around her hips, and back up the front of her, just barely grazing her breasts. His thumb swirled circles at the nape of her neck and her skin prickled up in gooseflesh at the sensations he created in her body.
“What color?” he whispered while one of his hands swept down her side again.
“Still green, Sir. Your hands feel so good.”
“That’s what I want. Just relax.”
He continued stroking her and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning, but one escaped.
“Let me hear you, little one. Don’t hold back.”
He stepped way and the air around her felt colder. She listened for his footsteps but before she could work out in her mind where he was, he was back.
“I want to hear all of your noises, today,” he said.
This time it wasn’t his hands that were on her; he used something furry that made her laugh as he tickled her.
“It’s okay to laugh if the situation calls for it.”
He was relentless with the tickler and she kept laughing. She couldn’t remember ever doing so before in a playroom and wondered why. By tickling her, Cole was relieving any remaining trepidation. There was a smile in his voice when he spoke again.
“You sound so joyous when you laugh,” he said. “And your joy brings me pleasure.” He shifted so she felt his erection on her back.
She moaned.
Pressed against her, he spoke into her skin. “Tell me, little one, if you were naked right now, would you be wet? Are you desperate to be filled? Slick at the thought of me pushing inside you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And that also brings me pleasure.”
His hands were on her again, a little rougher this time and more urgent. His touch fanned the flame of arousal she’d feared quenched beyond revival. She didn’t want to take the time to examine it, or question it, or wonder if it was only Cole who could make her feel it. She just wanted to experience it.
Thankful for the blindfold, she emptied her mind of anything other than Cole and his touch. She nearly hummed in response to the sensations he created in her body.
The smack of a flogger against her butt made her jump.
“Stay with me, little one.” His voice was low and somehow comforting. “This brings me pleasure as well.” The flogger landed again. “What color are you?”
She took two deep breaths. “Green, Sir.”
“Very good. I’m not taking you to subspace. I want you here with me.”
She had always found it took her a long time to reach subspace and it was rare that she did so the first time with a Dom. She hoped she had the chance at some point in the future to play again with Cole. To see if he could get her there.
He worked the flogger over her body in an off-tempo, erratic fashion that wouldn’t allow her the ability to get lost in her head. And though he wasn’t being gentle, there was no hurting involved.
“What color, little one?”
“Green, Sir.”
She relaxed into her bonds. As Cole continued with the flogger, she felt something inside heal. Something she hadn’t known how to fix. She smiled and in that moment, she knew everything was going to be okay. She was going to be okay.
She felt like shouting from the roof and probably would have done so, but she knew if she did, he might misinterpret and stop. He continued striking her with the tails, and she welcomed each one, taking, accepting, and acknowledging their meaning. In a way it was as if he was both breaking down her wall and building it up at the same time.
She relaxed even more and she was free. Finally free. She’d never hit subspace so quickly.
“Sasha,” Cole said through the haze of pleasure. “Come back to me.”
She would go, but only for him. Because he asked and since he was the one who gave her wings.
He chuckled. “So much for my plans. Are you with me, little one?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
“For someone who claimed it was hard for her to reach subspace, that was frighteningly fast.”
“Sorry, not sorry, Sir.”
He stopped using the flogger and tenderly unbuckled her wrists. She slumped against him, perfectly content to be held. He carried her to a nearby couch, where he cradled her against his chest.
“It’s rather humorous if you think about it,” he said, stroking her hair.
“What, Sir?”
“How I once told you I would keep you guessing and off balance and yet”—he kissed her forehead—“you do the same to me.”
Chapter Six
The warning she’d been waiting for and dreaded came by text the next Sunday morning: Saturday at four I will collect what I am due. Further instructions to follow.
Her hands shook so badly, she almost dropped her phone. With trembling fingers she typed back her reply.
Yes, Sir.
Part of her felt proud that she was now at a place where he thought she’d progressed enough to handle his punishment. But a larger part of her was scared to death. At least, she thought, they’d finally get her punishment out of the way.
She sat down and tried to knit, but the yarn kept getting tangled and her fingers wouldn’t work properly. She picked up a novel she was in the middle of, but gave up when she reread the same page for the tenth time. Finally, with a huff, she picked up her journal. He wanted honesty? She’d give it to him.
Flipping to a clean page, she wrote stream of conscious thoughts until she’d filled four pages. Granted, she thought looking back over them, the pages weren’t exactly legible. Of course, he’d never said anything about her daily writing having to be legible.
He had said he thought writing would help her and, no surprise, he was right. Her mind felt calmer. She could do this. She’d been punished before. Hell, she’d been whipped until she passed out. No way would anything Cole did ever come close to that.
She slipped her journal back into the drawer she kept it in and decided she wouldn’t even think about Saturday until Friday night, at the earliest.
Cole, of course, had other plans.
On Monday, he sent her an e-mail telling her to write the date, time, and location of her punishment under her list of infractions.
On Tuesday, his e-mail inform
ed her that their only meeting for the week would be on Saturday.
On Wednesday, she gave up trying to put it out of her mind and instead thought about what his daily e-mail would say. Typically, he would send something by midmorning, but that day there was nothing before noon.
Sasha and Julie had set up a lunch date that day with Kelly and Abby to discuss Dena’s baby shower. Kelly called shortly after eleven and said there’d been a break-in she had to investigate and couldn’t make lunch, but to go on without her. Abby arrived right at noon with sandwiches from the local deli, and Sasha slipped her phone into her pocket. Of course, the chime of an incoming e-mail rang out five minutes into their meal. She debated waiting until lunch was over to read it, but her curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out her phone to check.
She nearly choked when she read the subject line.
“Are you okay?” Julie asked, putting down her sandwich and wiping her mouth.
Sasha scrolled through the e-mail. “Holy shit.”
“Sasha?” Abby’s voice held more than a note of concern.
“I’m okay,” she assured her friends. “Just, damn, he’s a bastard.”
“Must be Cole.” Julie shifted in her seat, scooting closer to Sasha and craning her neck. “But now I’m all curious. Just what did he e-mail you?”
“His discipline protocol. It’s fucking five hundred pages. Damn writers.” She reached the bottom of the e-mail and scrolled back up to the top. She tried reading it, but after the first few sentences decided to wait until there weren’t multiple eyes watching her and stuck the phone back in her pocket.
“What? You aren’t going to read it?” Julie asked.
“Not yet. I’m hungry right now.” Though to be honest, the email had zapped most of her hunger. She looked over to Abby. “What’s the smile for?”
Abby shook her head. “He might be a bastard, but he sure as hell knows what he’s doing.”
“Because he has a five-hundred-page discipline protocol?” Sasha scowled. “I think it just means he has too much time on his hands.”
“No, because a few months ago, just the mention of anything pertaining to a physical scene would have sent you into a panic attack.” Abby took a sip of her water. “But now, I’m guessing he’s going to discipline you finally—and instead of withdrawing into yourself, you’re acting a bit bratty. I call that progress.”
“I don’t know,” Julie said. “If Daniel handed me a discipline protocol, I’d probably head for the hills. I think that’s a bit much.”
“Is it?” Abby asked. “Or does it provide a sense of security knowing exactly what’s going to happen, no more and no less? This is what is expected of you, so prepare yourself.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .” Sasha couldn’t help but agree it made a bit of sense.
“A Dominant has reasons for everything he does,” Abby said. “I doubt Cole wrote his protocol out because he was bored. I’m guessing he wrote it out and sent it as a way to help ease your mind.”
Sasha picked her ham and cheese back up. “Nah, I think he sent it as a way to fuck with my mind. Because now I’m going to think about nothing but that e-mail until I have a chance to read it.”
“I doubt you’ll stop thinking about it after you read it,” Julie added.
Abby smiled. “That’s why I said reasons. What’s better than a mind fuck wrapped up like a security blanket?”
Sasha figured she could come up with at least three hundred twenty things that were better, but kept her thought to herself. What Abby said made a lot of sense. But for the rest of lunch, it felt like her phone was burning a hole in her pocket.
When Julie left for an afternoon appointment and Abby went back home, Sasha pulled out her phone to read the e-mail. She tried to keep what Abby said in the back of her mind while she read. Truthfully, her friend was right. Cole had detailed a lot of what would happen, how he would act, and his expectations of her. There was comfort in that knowledge.
But when he sent her a text before bed that said, “In two and a half days you’ll be bent over a chair, bare arse offered for my discipline,” she decided he thoroughly enjoyed the mind fuck, too.
• • •
It seemed like it took forever for Saturday to arrive, yet when it did, Sasha felt like the week had flown by. She worked in the shop in the morning, breathing a sigh of relief when two o’clock came and she and Julie closed for the day. Julie hadn’t asked for details, but she’d watched Sasha with careful eyes.
According to Cole’s protocol, she was to wear a dress. She looked through her closet. She didn’t want to wear the one she’d worn to tea, so instead she settled on a light green cotton dress someone once said brought out the color of her eyes.
She showered, making certain she shaved everywhere. Another thing she knew was that he would not require her to be naked this time. It wasn’t so much that she was nervous about him seeing her naked. She didn’t want him to see her back.
As she finished getting ready, the truth of Abby’s words hit her again. Sure she was nervous, but he had ensured she knew what to expect. It wasn’t until she grabbed her keys, purse, and journal that she realized how much she appreciated that knowledge.
However, even knowing what to expect, the sight of Cole in a three-piece suit took her breath away.
“Good afternoon, Sasha,” he said, sounding like a perfect gentleman and not at all like he would soon have her bent over a chair with her naked ass in the air.
“Good afternoon, Sir.”
He moved to the side to let her in and with a tilt of his head indicated she was to lead their way to his office. Once inside, she placed her journal on his desk and knelt on the floor.
He followed silently, sat down, and opened her journal to the page in the back. “List out the offenses you’re here for.”
One by one, she recited them, noting as she did that her voice didn’t shake. Surprising, she thought, since every other part of her couldn’t stop trembling.
“Thank you.” He wrote something in her journal. “To correct your behavior and to reinforce my rules, I am requiring you to take six strokes from my cane. You will not be bound. Firstly, because it will signify your submission to me and secondly, because I don’t think it would be in your best interest mentally.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Additionally, I am not requiring you to be naked. I would like to point out that this is not typical for my discipline sessions.”
“Thank you for that consideration, Sir.”
“You will count each stroke.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And lastly, I need to make it clear that as of today any disobedience or defiance will be dealt with fully and swiftly at the time of the offense.”
“I understand, Sir.”
Nothing he’d said came as a surprise. It had all been listed in the protocol. She’d known to expect a formal setting, but knowing was nothing compared to experiencing. It was so different from anything she’d ever done.
Cole, of course, showed nothing other than his usual control. Was it only because her punishment was so far removed time wise from the offense? Probably not—she couldn’t imagine Cole ever acting while angry.
“Everything is set up in the sitting room,” he said. “You may go prepare yourself.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
She stood up, her legs a little more wobbly and her heart beating a little faster than when she’d entered the room. Formal protocol aside, she’d been caned before—she knew it would hurt.
I’ve experienced worse.
She supposed that was something positive that resulted from the incident with Peter: not much could ever come close to being as painful.