I return to where Ms. Beale remains in submissive posture and place the crop on the bench next to her.
“Tonight is your initiation of sorts,” I say. Her eyes remain cast down. Then I realize, I don’t like speaking on such serious matters without having her rapt attention. “Look at me.”
Keisha raises her eyes to lock with mine.
“Your contract is on the table against the far wall. If you are taking on the role of my submissive of your own free will, without any coercion, please sign on the first line at the end of the document.”
She begins to rise, but my disapproving glare throws her off balance. She sinks back onto her knees. “Permission to stand, Sir.” She says this as if she’s always known how to respond to a Dom.
“Granted.” I move aside and gesture toward the table.
“Thank you, Sir.”
She walks to the table and takes the pen, holding it as if she’s about to sign before reading, then she stops and begins to run her eyes slowly over the pages. She signs and turns back to me, remembering at the last minute to flick her eyes back down to the floor.
“If I insist you stay in the submissive zone, this is going to take longer than necessary,” I reach out my hand to her. “Come here.”
She walks over to me, her hips swaying in a suggestive manner. I am getting aroused, but I don’t want the distraction just yet.
“You look gorgeous in this, by the way.” I take her hand and lead her to the leather bench against the wall near the entrance. “Have a seat, Keisha.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Don’t think about being submissive or about how you need to respond to me in a submissive way when I speak to you right now. I want to set some ground rules, but I need you to pay attention and not have any fear of repercussion if you don’t say or do something quite right.”
She breathes a sign of relief. “Okay.”
“I want you to remember what we talk about now, because it will be very important for later.” I rake my eyes over her body again. This is not going to work. I stand up from the bench and grab a robe from the hook on the wall near the door. “Here, put this on so I can concentrate, too.”
I help her to slip on the robe, and we sit back down.
“When you enter the condo at six, you are to adopt your submissive role until you leave Monday morning at six, unless I give you permission to do otherwise. When Mrs. Naven is around, I want you to act as you would with me normally but when she’s not in the same room with us, you are to revert to your submissive role.”
“Got it,” she says.
“I have a deck of punishment cards, which we will use when you mess up or step out of line. When you pull the card, you are to hand it to me to read to you.”
“Why can’t I just read it?”
“Who holds the top position here?”
“You do.” She shakes her head with incredulity.
“That little gesture right there would get you a trip to the punishment deck if we were in a scene.”
That reply wipes the smile off her face. She will learn soon, if she doesn’t already know, that I am serious about what transpires in here.
“Sorry,” she says with a sheepish grin.
“Every piece of equipment in here is at my disposal once you enter this room, but your behavior helps me decide if I’m going to use them for pleasure or for pain.”
She looks somber when I say that, so I remind her who holds the fulcrum of power.
“You are actually the one in control, Keisha. Don’t let all these things psych you out. Keep your head, relax into that space where you always know intuitively that I’m doing what I do because of the rules of the game and because it gets me where I need to be. It’s never because I have any malice toward you. If you go there with me every time, I can promise you, you will be rewarded with pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.”
Ms. Beale hasn’t seen anything yet. I wonder if she has any idea of the pleasure she is about to experience in the lifestyle. I pause, giving her a chance to respond, but she chooses not to.
“Did you check off your hard limits?” I walk back over to the table, pick up the contract she just signed and flip to the second page. Frowning, I turn back to face her. “So, nothing’s off the table? I recall there were things you weren’t comfortable with in another conversation we had.”
She springs up off the bench like a jack-in-the-box. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I was so nervous I might’ve skipped that part.”
I walk back over and hand her the document. “This time read every word, Keisha.”
She scanned it too quickly earlier to indicate that she was actually reading. This time, she reads thoroughly and stops dutifully to let me know what her soft and hard limits are.
“I don’t think I can swallow sperm.” Her face contorts with distaste and she shudders.
“It’s not something I require, yet many men swear it’s the biggest turn on. There are other things that are bigger turn-ons for me. You may take that off the list.”
She lines through it on the document and moves on, her forefinger tracking the items on the list as she reads. She stops abruptly. “I don’t think I’d like to do anal sex,” she says.
I’m disappointed, but I don’t show her just how much when I inquire about it. “Is there a reason why?”
The document flutters briefly and I can tell her hands are shaking. “Don’t be afraid to assert yourself during the negotiation process, Keisha. You have as much say in any of this as I do.”
“Thank you. Anal sex scares the crap out of me. Pun intended.”
“Why are you afraid of it?”
“I’m not afraid as much as I don’t want to ruin my anus for the purpose for which it was created,” she says.
“That happens when the ass isn’t properly conditioned and someone proceeds without making sure they’ve stretched and lubricated the orifice in preparation for penetration. It is very pleasurable when done properly, but I will leave the decision to remove this item up to you.”
My heart sinks a bit when she crosses it off, but I never overtly encourage a submissive to do anything that causes them pause. We mutually agree to omit a laundry list of things we both have no desire to try. I countersign the contract, then quiz her on the equipment in the room and its use.
I’m pleased by how much she remembers from the first time she was in my Grotto. We return to where we began, and I remove her robe and hang it back on the hook. I retrieve the crop I left on the bench before and snap it on my hand, testing the sting. Keisha flinches, but I chalk it up to surprise.
“We mustn’t waste this gorgeous costume you’re wearing, now. Should we, Ms. Beale?”
“No, Sir,” she says and lowers her eyes.
I walk over to her, thoroughly invading her personal space, our bodies almost touching. I place her hand on my cock. It’s not in an aroused state, but it moves in that direction once her warm hand touches me through my thin silk pajama bottoms.
“This is me before we scene.” I say, then remove her hand. “St. Andrews Cross.” Jumping slightly at my sharp command, she moves immediately to the leather-covered apparatus harnessed against the wall and awaits further instruction. Since she is facing the cross, I press a button on the panel next to it to raise it slightly off the floor, so her feet will tuck slightly underneath the base of it.
I stick my hand between her thighs, pushing one leg out and then the other. “Spread.” She spreads her legs until her feet are parallel with the bottom of the X. I kneel behind her with the purpose of strapping her ankles to the apparatus. However, before I do that, I can’t resist palming her exquisite ass with my hands, which makes me momentarily lose my train of thought.
“This is so distracting,” I say. “You have the best ass of any of my previous submissives, Keisha.”
She makes a sound that borders on derisive, but then mumbles. “Yes, Sir.”
I cuff her ankles, then her hands to the cross and stand up cl
ose against her and whisper in her ear.
“The tip of the crop I’m going to use is soft leather, Ms. Beale. As I wield it, it will sting but it won’t break your skin. Okay?”
“Okay, Sir.”
“I need you to feel what this does to me because, ultimately, what this does to me will benefit you. Ready?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“A little mood music, shall we?”
I find the perfect song on the iPod I use exclusively in my Grotto to help Ms. Beale with her focus. “Free Your Mind,” by the group En Vogue. Ms. Beale shakes her head as if she can’t believe it when she hears the first few bars of the song.
“Do you know this group, Ms. Beale?” I shout over the music.
She shouts back, “Yes, Sir.”
I move behind her again, so we don’t have to strain our voices. “How is that possible? You were at most a toddler when this song was a hit.”
“I’m a music aficionado, Sir.” She says this matter-of-factly.
“Oh, right.”
I practice wielding the crop and it whooshes through the air as I warm up. “Okay, here goes, Ms. Beale.”
Aiming for her juicy buttocks, a loud pop erupts from the tip against her succulent flesh. Surprisingly, Keisha doesn’t cry out, and while I’m proud she isn’t behaving like this is totally foreign to her, I increase the intensity of the second pop. This time she moans protesting the sting of the crop.
“That’s right. Let me hear you scream, baby.” I goad her, because her reaction is what gets my motor running.
I alternate sides, keeping time with the music. Flicking my wrist in a way that causes the tip of the crop to grip and sting her like so many pricks of a needle on her skin. Keisha moans, gasps, and pleas for mercy as I work her over with the crop.
When her ass becomes mauve in color against the rest of her olive skin, I know it’s time to move to another area. I choose her back because it’s covered and if there were to be any bruising, I’d prefer it be in a place that she can cover easily. She’s wearing a corset, so an adjustment of pressure is necessary for the leather to bite through the spines of the fabric. Keisha hisses, groans and spits an occasional curse as I continue the onslaught until I’ve worked up a sweat.
Nearing the end of the song, I press my body close to hers. She gasps as she feels the imprint of my erection against her ass.
“This is me after we scene,” I say next to her ear.
She presses her derriere against my front which indicates to me that she is aroused. I run my hands down her sides over her hips, to her thighs and up again. I ease a hand around her body between her open legs and shove two fingers inside her.
“I love how your body reacts for me. Eventually, it will do so before I even begin a scene.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
I roll my hips against her ass in time with my fingers sliding in and out of her folds. “You want me to take you, right here on this cross, don’t you, Keisha?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But you said you didn’t want any penetration tonight.”
She answers so quickly she forgets protocol. “That was before I changed my mind.”
“Who?” I push away from her body and smack her ass with my hand.
“Sir. Sorry. Please Sir, don’t leave me like this.” She is already reduced to begging, which gets her big points from me.
I grasp the narrowest part of her thong with my hand and rip it loose. “We can’t have this little scrap of fabric getting in the way.”
I retrieve a condom from the bedside table drawer and return to my charge on the St. Andrews Cross. I engage the motor and angle it in a way that gives me easy access to her aroused sex. I tear the foil wrapper and release the condom and slide it onto my length almost in one motion. I’m eager to take her now that the cropping has done its job.
She is so wet she takes my full length without adjustment. We both groan on impact. I pull out and thrust again harder and deeper. When she gasps I ease out. I lost my head for a moment, but I lace my explanation with apology.
“You said something about soft, easy, and being able to walk after. A good Dom listens.” I trail kisses over her shoulders as I move soft and slow inside her. She gasps and hums and gasps again when I wind up to the swerve she likes so much. I continue in a steady, rhythmical pace until she squirms, pushing her ass back to meet my thrusts as much as she can despite being immobilized on the cross. This leisurely pace is a welcome relief from the other times I fucked her to make a point. She seems to have enjoyed the cropping and now she is letting me know she wants faster, but I stay on course.
I wrap my arms around her torso between her and the cross and cup her breasts, holding them as I begin to thrust a bit harder into her. However, I still hold back, because she is sore and I don’t want to put her completely out of commission for several days. As I move into her and she arches back into me, our heavy breathing increases as we each grow desperate and hungry for release. When Keisha comes, her scream catapults me into release, and I groan through my own intense climax.
I can’t move until my breath evens out, then I pull slowly out of her. When I feel like I have the energy to heft her weight, I motor the cross completely upright and unstrap her. Keisha collapses into my arms. I hoist her up, amused by her inability to stand without assistance, and help her to walk on unstable legs over to the bed.
Arranging her in a supine position on the bed, I climb in next to her still smiling at her helplessness.
“You took your first thorough cropping like a pro, Ms. Beale.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Her eyes are droopy and I know she won’t be awake long. She musters up the energy to return my smile, her eyes consuming my naked torso as if she wants more, but her energy level is not allowing it. I remain propped on an elbow facing her until she loses the battle and dozes off.
I watch her sleep for several minutes before I realize I’m acting like a suitor who is smitten with a new lover. I turn and settle on my side facing away from her. The remote that controls most every electrical item in the room, including the lights, lies on the nightstand.
Retrieving it, I plunge the room in to near darkness with the click of one button, save the lights that illuminate the baseboards for safety. I will myself not to turn back around—I tell myself it is to some of the much-needed sleep we both missed the night before.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darryl buzzes me mid-afternoon the next day.
“Ms. Beale is on line one.”
Another surprise, yet my hesitation is brief. “Put her through.”
If she’s having third thoughts about our arrangement, I might be forced to detain her physically and lock her away in my Grotto. I roll my eyes annoyed that I could have such thoughts about a new submissive. That is all she is to you, White.
“Ms. Beale,” I say, keeping the formal distance intact. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”
“There is nothing uncertain or suspect about the pleasure you derived from my body in your Grotto last night,” she says.
“Touché. Let me rephrase. To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
“That’s more like it.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to make me work harder as your Dom than you will as my submissive?”
“Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? You said yourself that the force is powerful with me,” she says in a voice reminiscent of a character in a movie that my father bonded with Nathan and me over when we were children.
“Did you just quote Darth Vader?” What is it with this woman who has me dredging up movies like she does pop culture references?
“No, I paraphrased Darth Vader.”
“I stand corrected,” I say, and go back to reading the contract on my desk as she prattles on. Finally she gets to the primary reason for her call.
“So, here’s the deal. I know we’re supposed to sign the contract for KSR tonight, but I have to work until six.”
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br /> “And that would be a problem for me because—?”
“Even if I take a cab to your office after work, I’ll probably be late.”
I put the contract back down. “You know how I feel about time, Ms. Beale.”
“Which is why I’m telling you beforehand.”
I recall that she doesn’t have a car. “Should I make arrangements for you to have a loaner? I have several cars.”
Her sigh is audible. She has a reluctance for driving in the city—something Ms. Jameson mentioned to Darryl when he originally set up the contract signing. I pause to allow her to share this information with me. Or not.
“I never drive Downtown, especially during rush hour.” She goes with a half-truth.
“Are you admitting one of your fears to me?” If this question didn’t make her come clean, I would be sorely disappointed in her willingness to blatantly lie to me, and wondering if she’s keeping me in the dark about other more important things.
“Yes.”
My relief is tangible—only to me. “Thank you for letting me know. I was going to have Moses pick you up today, then give you access to my car service beginning tomorrow.”
“No. Thank you, Sir.”
Her use of the title of respect even though we are not in a scene makes me horny. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“I think I might’ve derived quite a bit of that recently.” She picks up on the sexy timbre in that statement, openly flirting with me.
My voice matches the seductive tone in hers. “Of this I’m keenly aware. Are you bound and determined to get me to participate in some form of phone sex, Ms. Beale?”
“Yes, I’m determined and knowing your proclivities, I could also be bound in many creative ways.”
“Where are you?”
“In the stockroom.”
I get a visual of her in a window-less room surrounded by shelves and tables of sexy lingerie. Which gives me an idea.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
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