Protege

by Lydia Michaels

  “Fair enough.”

  He agreed with her answers, finding her explanations appropriate for what he already knew and assumed about her. “Is it fair to say that you are seeking a very mild version of the Dominant/submissive dynamic? You seem at home in the kitchen and with others matters of the house.”

  “I like taking care of others. When there’s a specific set of guidelines and expectations, it makes it easy to succeed.”

  And she liked succeeding when it came to others’ expectations. “Well put. And does having a dominant bring you relief?”

  “So far I like it. The more I experience everything, the more comfortable I am to depend on it.”

  “You can depend on it, Collette. That’s what it’s all about.” Or should be. He shoved his jaded opinions and disappointing experiences aside, in order to give her what should ultimately be the truth of every decent D/s relationship. “It brings me—a Dom—great joy to earn a sub’s trust. And it hurts us when we know we’ve dropped the ball or let a sub down. Your disappointment’s as meaningful as ours.”

  Her brow creased, her face angling low. “But I’ve disappointed you.”

  He frowned, trying to recall any moment she might be referring to. “Never severely.”

  “You’ve spanked me during sex.”

  “And enjoyed it thoroughly. Don’t confuse my meaning, peach. I’m no softy when in the heat of matters. When I use my size to dominate you, I will, effortlessly. And when I want to take for my pleasure, I will. Just as on our first night I had no issue dishing out discipline for your behavior, I will again without hesitating, if I see fit. I’ll always respect you and your limits, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t enjoy correcting you should you earn aggressive play at times. Don’t confuse that with true punishment. You’ll eventually learn the difference.”

  Something stern flashed in her gaze for a moment and his lip twitched, sensing she’d eventually challenge him. “What if I find your punishment humiliating?”

  “We’ve defined humiliation. The questionnaire you completed gave a fair impression of your triggers, but I’m most interested in your version. That’s all that matters, that your Dom knows your definition and respects it. Others will surely disagree with you, but I’m not responsible for them.”

  “I suppose it’s as I said, a feeling a shame. A sense of unshakable mortification. Being exposed on purpose.”

  Her definition was indeed prudent compared to others, but he understood. He’d seen Doms insist their subs crawl around the house and behave as animals. “I humiliated you with Lea.” Personal disappointment lingered and he picked at the topic again. Ironic, that his own behavior humiliated him, thereby leaving a lingering sense of shame.

  Her gaze lowered. “Yes, but I understand why you did it.”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice soft.

  “Because I questioned you after you asked me not to, and you wanted to show me what I agreed to.”

  He studied her naked form as he debated whether her understanding was equal to forgiveness. He wanted to forgive his oversight, but couldn’t until he was certain she had. “Your terms, should we say, have been modified. But I want to be crystal clear, Collette, because I don’t want to humiliate you—ever. Would it humiliate you if Lea or another person walked in here now?” Fear was a definite motivator, but not his motivator of choice.

  She met his gaze. “Not as much. I’ve been naked more than I’ve been clothed since coming here. The other night the women at dinner gave me the impression that they also spend a lot of time undressed.”

  “Except the ones with children.” Getting back to the matter, he said, “So would you still consider the first night humiliating? Perspective’s a relative matter, and your point of view is undergoing an extreme evolution of sorts.”

  “No, I’d consider it a lesson learned, Sir.”

  “Very good, peach. And when I spanked you yesterday during sex?”

  “I liked it.” She smirked but tried to hide her face from view.

  He grinned. “There will be times you won’t.”

  Her lips parted and she swallowed. “I hope that’s not true.”

  He studied her. A good Dom trusted his instincts. Something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on, told him she’d respond to spanking once her guards came down. Whether he’d enjoy divvying out such true punishments was a different question. He’d have the answer when they crossed that bridge—a bridge leading to her permanent placement. He could do anything once, so long as it was for the benefit of her experience.

  Quietly, he shared a bit of his instinct. “Not only is it true, peach, if I’m gauging your level of submission correctly, I’m betting you’ll ask for a spanking before our time’s up, and not for the pleasure of it. There’s a liberation when taken in hand, and should you ask for such a thing and I find your behavior in need of correction, I’ll unquestioningly service you. I want you happy and whole, after all.”

  She didn’t look like she agreed, though she didn’t come out and disagree, which he knew she was able to do if something didn’t sit right with her. He liked that she kept an open mind. Still, he needed to dispel any fear that she might be mistreated without explanation. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.

  “Now, this is where people worry about blurring the line between BDSM and abuse. I could strike you after a spanking to show you the difference, but that would never happen. Ever. If I’m ever in a foul enough mood that my control’s threatened, I’ll ask you to leave me alone until otherwise directed. I’ll always ask this before reacting in a physical way, be it positive or negative. And should you require a physical reprimand, I’ll only deliver it when I feel I’m in complete control of myself and you’re aware of what’s happening and why. You never need to fear me, Collette.”

  “Do you anticipate me disappointing you, Sir? If there’s something I’m not doing, please—”

  “You please me very much, Collette. Patience is the first trait every submissive needs, and you have it in spades. Your fortitude has allowed you to accept my direction with little friction. Don’t take my meaning as a suggestion that you’ve disappointed me. If you had, you’d know it.”

  “But do you anticipate it? Does the idea excite you?”

  Her question surprised him and he had to consider his response carefully. “Honestly? Yes and no. Disappointment, I find, is a stronger emotion than any thrill. While I’d be lying if I claimed spanking a compliant female isn’t arousing, there are varying levels of discipline. Brattiness is easily navigated and often ends in my own personal gain—the price for such. Topping from the bottom is evidence of a poorly trained sub and a distracted Dom. However, a true punishment would be the result of a direct violation in terms of a relationship. Such a violation is disappointing and I dislike having to dish out such cold correction, as necessary as it may be, depending on my partner’s circumstances and needs. Suffice it to say, physical correction is not something I decide upon lightly.”

  The tension in her face eased. “So it doesn’t excite you.”

  “Not in that context, no.” She nodded her understanding and he held out a hand. “Come sit with me, Collette.”

  Slowly she rose, her body unfolding in a grand display of femininity. Her hips flared as her breasts slightly jiggled, and, again, he was tempted to take her. He sat on the couch and pulled her to his lap. For several minutes he simply combed his fingers through her curls until she settled into a comfortable position.

  “There’s a common misconception that every Dom is a sadist. That’s not at all true. While I yearn for a D/s dynamic, as do many others, only a few of us are true sadists. I don’t have a dungeon or a cage anywhere on my property. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy tying people up from time to time. We all have our personal kinks.”

  He gently brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “However,
as a Dom, I take my responsibility to protect my sub very seriously. The thought of someone in my care suffering unintentionally is abhorrent to me. Aside from abandonment, there’s nothing more crushing than inadvertently hurting the one I’m expected to cherish and protect. But I’m human.”

  Something he had to remind himself of again and again. It wasn’t that he was so lost in a power play that he believed himself omnipotent. No, that ego bubble burst the moment his wife left him for someone else. However, it was human nature to make mistakes, and he needed to repeatedly tell himself his mistakes were worth forgiving in order to move on. Even Doms had limits. He was getting there.

  The unfortunate thing about losing his wife was that he never learned how to stop caring about her well-being. It was hardwired into him the day he said his vows and promised to always love and protect her. The man she was with now was not someone he knew or felt comfortable with her knowing. Yes, like most Doms he was a bit of a control freak.

  Tiffany had asked for more than he felt safe giving her. While some desired an element of danger in their scenes, he simply could not, in good conscience, put the woman he loved at risk. The man she was currently with was rumored to dabble in breath and knife play.

  Tiffany had scars from her youth, moments when a blade pressed slowly into her soft skin, piercing the swell of delicate flesh until a pearl of crimson bloomed against the metal. She’d talk about her cutting so eloquently when they were in private, sometimes she’d even trace a finger along one of her scars the way a lover might caress lips, recalling a passionate kiss.

  As the years went on, it wasn’t uncommon to find her holding the hilt of a knife too long at the counter and catch the far-off glint in her eye as though lost in a fantasy, one he’d never be able to deliver. She tried to snuff out her affinity for pain, but in the end it became a beckoning affair she longed to return to.

  His body disguised a shiver as his lips pressed to the warm body filling his arms. “I never want you to hesitate if you need to use your safe word, Collette. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She twisted, her hazel eyes gazing into his. “Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I touch you? Everything you said was so poignant, I find myself . . .” She frowned as though searching for the right words. “Full of desire. I want to kiss you.”

  Her request was so honest and flattering, yet his instinct to pull back from the intimacy rode hard. As much as he needed the distraction from his darker thoughts, he needed to make one more thing clear.

  He cleared his throat. “There’s something else we should discuss, Collette.” Lifting her off his lap, he waved a hand at the chair opposite the couch.

  She nodded and moved to the distant seat, hiding her disappointment well.

  “It can be confusing, all these emotions stimulated by this dynamic we’re applying,” he explained, hoping to bring them both some clarity. “You’re placing yourself in a very vulnerable position and trusting me to take care of you. I will, because I’ve agreed to show you a glimpse of this lifestyle so you might better know yourself.” He met her gaze and spoke clearly. “Do not confuse my dedication to teaching you these things with love.”

  Her lashes lowered, a smart smirk crossing her lips as a silent breath of laughter escaped her in a soft exhalation. “You flatter yourself, Sir.”

  He drew back, and his expression dropped. He appraised her quick response, not expecting the barb. The prick to his ego smarted immediately. Perhaps he needed to heed his own advice.

  Her lashes lifted as she stared at him with hard certainty, all playfulness in her expression gone. “May I be excused?”

  He frowned, disliking the shift that just took place. “No.”

  Her jaw twitched, but she remained still and silent. Was she embarrassed? Angry? There was definitely some poignant emotion tumbling through her in that very moment.

  “Have I upset you, peach?”

  “No, but I find your arrogance disappointing.”

  His brow lifted—again shocked by her directness. Regaining his composure, he smirked. “Do you now?”

  She held his stare. “Yes, Sir, I do. I was only asking for intimacy, not a grand gesture of your devoted affection. I’m not an idiot. But bless your heart for clarifying your intensions.”

  Her southern twang grew thick as she laid out the disguised insult.

  Leaning close, he dropped his voice in a way that demanded her complete attention. “I, too, am not an idiot, peach. I’ve been all over this world, to each continent and through most states. You underestimate my intelligence if you think you’re the first southerner I’ve met. It’s a plain insult to use a phrase like bless your heart and assume I don’t know the translation.” Everyone knew that phrase was a polite way to call someone an idiot. His eyes narrowed. “Your Dom is now a very pissed-off Yankee, peach.”

  The hardness in her jaw slackened as her eyes slowly widened. And there was the shift he’d been referring to, back in place the way it was meant to be.

  Keeping his voice even, he said, “Get up stairs and freshen up. In ten minutes I expect to find you bent over the foot of your bed, ass in the air. You asked for intimacy and you’ll have it. Perhaps a little lesson on brattiness as well.” When she didn’t immediately move, he snapped, “Go.”

  She quickly rose and left the room. Grinding his teeth he sat back. Looked like they were going to cross off a few objectives tonight.

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, isn’t that a lovely sight.”

  Collette’s body trembled as Jude stepped into the room, his presence pronouncing an attentiveness inside her that seemed consistently linked to his mood. Sometimes the awareness was a dull throb he produced by merely being close. Other times, it was a thrumming, racing through her pulsing veins as his intentions slowly unraveled and she accepted his decisions the second they were communicated. There was no balance when he had her blood pumping like that, much like it did now.

  The soft whisper of his clothing being stripped away was a welcome interlude. Her fingers massaged the comforter as her cheek pressed into the mattress. Her body quivered with anticipation, her mind certain he would fill her soon.

  “The trouble,” he stated softly as he opened and closed a drawer, “with not saying exactly what we mean, is that it can lead to not getting exactly what we want. Downstairs you expressed a desire for intimacy and I took a moment to clarify my emotional investment to our association. You then called me an idiot.”

  His feet nudged hers, widening her stance, and she gasped. “That’s not what I said, Sir.”

  “And what does it mean in Georgia when one says bless your heart? Tell me it means something else and I’ll apologize for my misunderstanding immediately.”

  She couldn’t deny it. He’d called her out, reminding her of the nature of their relationship—a reminder she very much needed in that moment—and in turn made her feel stupid. So she’d called him an idiot.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Apology accepted.” He stepped forward, the crinkled hair of his thighs pressing to the backs of her smooth flesh. “However, I would be remiss to allow such disrespect to go unpunished.”

  “But—”

  “The only words you are permitted to speak are penguin and thank you, Sir. If I require more from you I’ll specifically ask for it. Nod if you understand.”

  Her head bobbed quickly as something slick drizzled down her back.

  “As I was saying, the issue with not clearly communicating what we want is that we sometimes receive the unexpected. I will kiss you when this is over, by the way, if you do not upset me again.”

  And damn her for getting hung up on that proverbial carrot. She’d wanted to kiss him so desperately downstairs. His words resonated in some hidden cranny of her soul and she’d felt so connected to him—too connected, which was why he likely rem
inded her this was only for educational purposes.

  His fingers quickly fit between her folds, testing her evident and somewhat mortifying arousal, but making no move to stimulate her. When oil massaged into her back entrance her eyes widened. She could handle a finger, but he’d definitely stripped for a reason. Her breath turned labored as he fed a finger slowly inside her and began pumping.

  “One of the most intimate acts a couple can share is anal sex, peach. There’s nothing quite as vulnerable as having a man take you this way.” He spoke as if he had experience in that arena. “But your ass is mine for the next several weeks and no one will experience this intimate gift but me—starting tonight.”

  Another finger stretched her and she moaned. A fist seemed to squeeze her heart, excitement pumping through her veins, trepidation thrumming right on its tail. She’d wanted this for a long time but had never trusted another enough to even ask for it, let alone bare herself in such a way.

  His fingers penetrated deep and she went up on her toes, pressing her lips tight as she swallowed a moan. It was an awakening indeed, one she intended to relish and not spoil by spouting out words accelerated by unnecessary fear. She wanted this and though he phrased it as a lesson, she recognized it as a gift.

  His fingers wedged deep and held. “Do you have something to say?”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  His lips pressed tenderly to the back of her shoulder, lingering long enough for her to feel the curve of his smile. Her eyes closed as she sensed that he was pleased with her—his approval fulfilling more hidden needs buried deep inside her soul.

  “Feel free to make noises, Collette. It’s a lot to bear, and you’re tight.”

  Her lips parted and she let out a guttural sigh as he slowly began to pump his fingers. God, she liked it, more than she expected she would. Overwhelmed by his power over her in that moment, her sex gushed as warm arousal bathed her folds.

  Ramming his fingers deep, he leaned over her and whispered, “This is what I meant about not needing to be a sadist to enjoy dishing out a punishment.” His tongue dragged slowly from one shoulder to the other. “I’m going to enjoy taking your virgin ass very much. Stretching you like no other man has.” His lips closed over the side of her neck as he sucked for a moment. “Just like you remember that neighbor who took your virginity, you’ll never forget me, the first Dom to claim your virgin ass.”