by Lilia Moon
His body doesn’t react, but his chopsticks freeze in mid-air. “That’s not a good choice for a beginner.”
I don’t care. “I’m not asking you to be my trainer. I’m asking you to help us find out what happens if you lean on me the way the Dom with the candle was leaning on his sub.” I put down my plate and turn in his lap to face him. “We’re not beginners to each other, Eli. I know you could give me a nice hands-on tour of kink, but that’s not what I need from you. I need to know if I can fit who I am to who you are.”
His eyes are sad. “That’s not how it works. I don’t want you to fit to me.”
I shake my head, frustrated, because the words are awkward and clunky and I need them out of the way. “I don’t mean it like that. I saw something in the wax play that called to me.”
His eyes stay on mine. “I know.”
There’s that arrogance. It intrigues me, even as it makes me tremble. “I want to know, and I’m not going to know if we’re just walking through a scene hitting our marks and saying our lines.”
He smiles and strokes my hair. “Full dress rehearsal, huh?”
More like opening night. There are going to be so many people watching, even if we’re tucked away in the privacy of his bedroom. “Yes. I need it to be deeply real, or I won’t know for sure.”
He nods slowly, tipping his forehead into mine. “I need you to know that what you’re asking for is really dangerous territory.”
I borrow a line from my sixteen-year-old self as I poke him in the ribs. “Duh.”
He laughs and straightens back up, eyes twinkling. “How much does Ari have to do with you being here?”
Busted. “I went to talk with her. I put it off for a while because she’s my primary business contact on the lingerie deal, but I needed to talk to someone who really gets how hard it is to be a sub.”
His smile is pleased, and a little rueful. “I was going to ask her to talk to you. Was she helpful?”
I nod. “She told me it was hard. And totally worth it.”
I can see the relief he’s trying to hide. I lean forward, touching my cheek to his. “Can you do it? Be my Dom like that?”
He takes a minute, and I can nearly hear those calm, self-assured wheels turning. “Yes.”
I back up, seeking his eyes, needing to see if the shadows are gone. “You’re sure?”
His grin has a tinge of arrogance that sixteen-year-old Eli would have found totally foreign. “People tell me I’m pretty good at this.”
I punch his bicep as hard as I can with only six inches to maneuver.
He laughs and cups my face in his hands. “It would be a bad idea with any two other people, but you already know that. We’ll be okay. I just need one promise from you.”
My stomach lurches. His words have a seriousness, a weight that doesn’t match his smile. “What?”
All humor flees—and the shadows are back. Not sad ones this time. Deep, serious ones. “Whatever happens, I need you to stay after. Until we’re both okay.”
I swallow hard and close my eyes, even as my hands seek his, even as I lean into the warmth of his heartbeat. I know why he’s asking.
We might not be okay after. We might be done.
Chapter Forty-One
Eli
Unsettling a sub before a scene is a standard Dom trick. That’s not what I’m doing. She’s just thoroughly unsettled me, and I need to know we’ll still be here to catch each other if this runs into a brick wall. Which is such an unfair request of a sub, especially a brand-new one, that I’m pretty sure they’re sending an emergency team to repossess my Dom card.
But we aren’t just two people about to explore some kink together. We’re Chloe and Eli and we go way back and I need to know more than anything that we’re going to protect that. No kink is worth losing a piece of your heart for.
She cuddles into me in a way I don’t really remember Chloe cuddling. One that’s letting me feel her shivers. “Agreed.”
It’s not the agreement that kicks my Dom into gear—it’s the shivers. She’s a sub who’s already doing her part and getting vulnerable, and we haven’t even started yet. I lift her chin so that I can see her eyes. This is going to be the shortest negotiation in the history of short negotiations, but it still needs to happen. For her and for me. “You have your safewords. Tell me what they are and what they mean.”
Her eyes flash annoyed at the surprise quiz, and then the annoyance clears. Smart Chloe, catching on fast to why the rules exist. “Yellow to slow down, red to stop.”
Yellow is more diverse than that, but it will work for today. Especially with rule number two, which is one I’ve never given a sub before. “I also need you to ditch the walls. If we’re going to go deep, I need to be able to read you. All of you. No hiding, no protecting me, no saving things for thinking about later.”
She looks at me for a long time, her quiet eyes entirely comprehending just how naked I’ve asked her to get. “Okay.”
I can feel myself wanting to get high off that single word. For me, kink is like music—the fingering is just the path to the emotions. But I can’t feel yet. I have a sub still in her packaging who is waiting for me to do something wondrous. I stroke my hand down her hair, mentally matching up what I know from watching her in the dungeon with tools I can lay my hands on in my condo on very short notice. I need bondage, and lots of it. The rest I can make up as I go.
I move my hands to her waist, intending to send her to my bedroom, when I spy my cello, case open, sitting in the corner. And feel my first plan jumping headlong out the window as a scene floods into my head, fully formed.
Fully formed—and the most intimate, scary thing I’ve ever contemplated doing as a Dom.
She feels my stutter, but I leave it hanging between us. This is too big to rush. Too big for her to walk in believing I’m totally certain. It’s also entirely right. A scene that will offer her every bit of who I am, streamed through a medium that just might help me keep my shit together. A scene that could only be hers and mine.
Chloe and Eli as we might be.
Chapter Forty-Two
Chloe
Whatever hit Eli’s pause button is done. I see it in his eyes before I feel it in his hands. The guy who took me on a tour of the dungeon two nights ago has just showed up.
I will myself to let this happen.
He sets his hands on my hips. “Strip, shorty.”
I can feel my eyes goggling. That’s so not where I expected this to start. I’m not sure why—every sub I saw in the dungeon was close to naked. I swallow, deeply feeling the psychology of why.
He doesn’t say anything more. He just looks at me. Expecting obedience.
I can feel the urge to kick his knees coming in for a landing. I push it away. That’s not who I want to be today. I know, right down to the very heart of me, that Eli would never do anything to make me less.
This is his first drop of candle wax.
I wrap my hands around each other, trying to stop their trembling, and I stand. I leave the warm comfort of his lap for the stark reality of standing on my own two feet and taking off all the layers I use to cover me.
Undressing has never felt quite so stark.
He watches me, his eyes never wavering from that calm sternness. I want to believe it’s reassuring, but nothing in me feels that way. I asked him to push. To make this real. He’s letting me see his answer.
I gulp and look away, letting my pants fall to my ankles. I leave the scraps of deep-green lace where they are. He’ll know it’s my armor, but I need it for a little while longer. I unbutton the silky shirt I picked up at a market in Nepal. My version of Eli’s chopsticks. It falls to the floor beside my pants, and I realize I’m standing in my underwear—with my shoes still on and my pants around my ankles holding me captive.
I’ve had better planning days.
I shake my head wryly and sit down on a footstool to rectify my mistake. I glance at Eli, but there’s nothing showing in his
eyes. Not even amusement, and there’s no way he isn’t finding this funny. Which means there’s purpose to his poker face. More drops of wax.
I manage to get my shoes and pants off like an actual grown-up and stand back up. I love this green silk bra, and I want him to get a good look before he makes me take it off.
This time, amusement glints in his eyes before he lifts an eyebrow. “Those too.”
I figured. I reach around behind me for the clasp of the bra. It’s one of my designs, but that isn’t helping my shaking fingers get the job done. I pause and gulp. This is just another stage. Another performance. I can do this. I somehow finagle the clasp and let the straps slide down my arms. This is the least sexy strip-tease ever, but we both know that teasing isn’t its purpose. Everything about this feels deadly serious.
I hook my fingers inside the lace over my hips and pause. Not to resist—to fully feel this moment. I look at Eli, at his watchful eyes taking in all of me. Not in a way that wants, although somehow I’m in no doubt at all that he does. This is something deeper. Something that needs to come first. Something that will turn wanting into an emotion far stronger.
I feel every molecule of lace as it slides down the skin of my thighs, dusting to the floor. Leaving me as naked as I’ve ever been—because we both know I just took off a whole lot more than clothes.
Chapter Forty-Three
Eli
She’s so gorgeous, and full of awareness that new subs almost never have. A woman who could easily be a Domme and is choosing something else. I’d be asking her a lot of hard questions about that, except I felt her breathe beside me as she watched the wax play.
I felt her yearn.
I stand up and pull the end of my brown leather chaise away from the wall. It’s a handy piece of furniture, well padded with no back and only a low armrest. Excellent for playing the cello and other nefarious uses, although I only realized the latter about three minutes ago. I eyeball the angles. I want no distractions in this scene, at least not the kind that come from knees and elbows accidentally meeting drywall. I walk around my living area, picking up an armful of the fat pillows my very vanilla interior designer insisted were necessary to my wellbeing.
Today, she’s absolutely right.
I keep my movements slow, deliberate. Sliding the basic Dom scaffolding into place. I control the clothing. I control the furniture. I control the timing.
I walk back over to the end of the chaise and make two stacks of two pillows each. Then, still crouched down, I motion to Chloe, who’s tracking me with watchful, curious eyes.
I’m about to add anxious to that mix.
I pat the arm rest. “Bend over, ass in the air, knees on the pillows.”
She stares at me.
It takes every ounce of willpower I’ve developed in the last twenty-six years not to grin. “Now, Chloe.”
My voice gets her feet going, which soothes my Dom nerves. She may not look like a sub, she may not act like a sub—but if Dom voice works on the woman I love, then she’s got at least some wiring that goes along with her desire to be pushed into surrender. I stand as she approaches the chaise, moving the power from my voice into my stance.
Her breath is catching in her throat, little panting gasps that are like no sound I’ve ever heard from her. I check in with the rest of her body. She’s not aroused yet—but she’s not far away.
The next part will either get her there or convince her this is the worst idea she’s ever had.
I arrange the pillows under her knees. I want her comfortable—she’s going to be here for a while. The chaise nicely tips her ass up without putting too much of a curve in her spine. I move her limbs, reposition her head, using touch to soothe and arrange. Letting her get a feel for having someone else entirely in charge of something as simple as where her arms rest and where her hair lies. I’m tempted to leave it in a tumble down her back, but that’s a really poor idea with what’s coming next. I stroke her cheek. “I’ll be right back. I need to gather some things.”
She’s dazed enough she doesn’t protest.
I walk slowly until I’m out of her line of sight, and then I burn rubber, because leaving a newbie sub alone is the height of stupid. However, it’s a necessary stupid. Chopsticks don’t offer many bondage options. Fortunately, my closet does. I grab a bag, still packed from the demo I did at Fettered a couple of weeks back, and mentally run through the contents. I dive into a second bag and pull out a small collection of toys for sensory play. I don’t do candles, so that part of this scene is going to be very much winging it.
Assuming I get back to the couch before my sub totally wigs out.
I nearly run to the corner of the hall and then resume my measured pace as I reenter Chloe’s realm.
Her eyes widen as she catches sight of the black bags in my hands. I drop them at the edge of the chaise, down below what she can see. Good for easy access, and good for frustrating someone who likes to have all the information. Protest rises in her eyes, but she manages to lock it back down.
A sub already wise enough to be restraining herself.
I reach into my bag for the long, soft strips of leather that can be adapted to almost any bondage setup. Some Doms like precision tools. I prefer flexibility. The legacy of spending a lot of years playing in a different city every week. I hold up the balled leather straps where Chloe can see them.
This time her eyes don’t widen. They glow.
I stroke a hand down her back. There are things she needs to hear before I shut down her words. “If you get scared, if you get a cramp, if you get an itch between your shoulder blades, I need to hear about it.” That’s more latitude than I would normally give a sub, but it’s the only way I know to keep dangerous and new from turning into catastrophe.
She nods quietly.
I hold on to the end of one of the balls and drop the rest over the side edge of the chaise, grinning when it cooperatively rolls out from underneath. I haven’t lost my touch—or I have sloping floors. Either way, I’m going to be able to get this done without floundering around on the floor, which isn’t the Dom image I’m shooting for right now.
I have balls two and three rolled out under the chaise before Chloe’s eyes get any more focus back. I reach for my shorter straps. We’ll start with the parts that are easiest to adapt. Wanting to be tied up and handling the actual experience of forced immobility are two very different things, and I need to let Chloe tiptoe in before I toss her headlong into the deep end she’s asked for.
Chapter Forty-Four
Chloe
He’s going to tie me up. My brain knows it and my gut knows it and apparently whatever makes little goosebumps stand up all over my body knows it.
He reaches for my wrist, looping an incredibly soft, wide band of leather around my forearm all the way down to my wrist. He leaves the tail of the leather hanging and does the same to my other arm. I’m in some kind of daze where I’m letting him move me around like a puppeteer’s doll. Then he bends down, and I can feel him attaching the ends of the straps to something I can’t see. Chair legs, maybe. It doesn’t matter. Theater doesn’t always get better when you look behind the curtain.
He attaches a short strap to one wrist and runs it carefully under my chest, tying it to my other wrist, far enough apart that my hands can lie comfortably by my shoulders. I tug. Attached, but I have plenty of range of motion.
Which, to my utter astonishment, makes me more than a little grumpy.
Eli chuckles as he does something with another strap, closer to my feet this time, and suddenly I’m trussed like a turkey, or like a turkey would be if it had arms. In one swift move, he’s performed some kind of kinky magical act and rendered my hands entirely stuck. Nothing is tight, nothing hurts—but I can move my arms all of a finger-width in any direction.
I can feel his eyes on me. Studying, making sure I’m all right.
I’m not sure I want to be, but that small grumpy voice has entirely shut up. I shift my head a li
ttle and settle in.
His hand strokes down my back, over my bare ass. I figure out what’s coming next just before the strap of leather winds around my left thigh. Just like with my arm, he goes around several times. Unlike with my arm, that takes his hands notably closer to parts of me that are starting to pay fluttery attention.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Just getting tied up shouldn’t be arousing.
Same action on my other thigh, and then light fingers trace circles over the curves of my ass. “Comfortable?”
I try to move my legs and discover I’ve become part of the chaise. I’m not going anywhere. I tug again, not at all sure how I feel about this.
His head drops down by my ear. “I need your words, Chloe. Is anything uncomfortable? Binding you too tightly?”
Not physically. I make a face. “No. But I don’t know if I like this.”
A low, gravelly chuckle. “That’s not what I asked you.”
I growl. “It’s what I wanted to say.”
A hand lands sharply on my ass, and it hurts. “Respect the process and respect your Dom, or we’re done.”
The burning sensation on my ass is nothing compared to the one in my brain—the one processing that gentle, sensitive Eli has just hit me.
His breath whispers past my ear again. “You have your safewords.”
I’ve never underestimated the color red, but right now it feels like bringing a bubble wand to a grenade fight. I can feel my mind thrashing, trying to figure out what to do, and then I realize.
My head is in chaos. My body is absolutely still.
Every ounce of my resistance flees. He’s not being an asshole. He’s giving my head the same kind of tie-down he’s given the rest of me.
Drops of wax.
Chapter Forty-Five