by Lilia Moon
Very, although I have no idea why I’m in his lap with my knees in the air. And then he slides one hand down my belly and into my wet folds, and the other starts massaging my ass, and I’m not confused at all.
He looks at me, his eyes full of that calm sternness I’m coming to crave. “There’s a blindfold on the armrest above your left shoulder. Put it on.”
The instructions don’t sound hard until I realize what it does to my nipples to move my arms.
Damon just chuckles and keeps rubbing circles between my legs.
I manage to get the blindfold on, and I’m stunned by how instantly nervous it makes me. I try to focus on the parts of him I can feel. His strong, warm legs under my naked ass. His hands. The sound of his breathing, even and steady and loud.
I don’t know why I haven’t heard that before.
“Good girl.”
I can hear the approval in his voice, and it anchors me.
He guides my hands. One to his knee, one to his chest. “Keep them there.”
He trusts me to do this. I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
His hands are back between my legs, this time with something cool on them. He slides his fingers between my ass cheeks. Lubricating them. Spreading me wide open so he can see everything.
He lets out a low sound of appreciation, and my fears vanish.
“What are your safewords, Emily?”
The jitters rush back. He’s asking me because he thinks I might need them. “Red, yellow, green.”
His finger pushes into my ass as I finish speaking, and I squirm against the pressure. I’m not ready. The chain on my nipples jumps and sends fire racing through me, all the way to my ass. His other hand applies pressure to my lower belly. “Be still.”
I know what he wants. He wants me to relax, to let him in.
I don’t know if I can.
I need to see him.
I reach up for the blindfold.
“Be. Still.” This time he snaps the words out and my hands freeze. “You use your safewords to stop this or you hold still. Understood?”
My safe, comforting Dom is gone. This one is asking me to go somewhere hard.
His finger is still in my ass. I swallow, even though all that lives in my mouth is dust. “Yes, Sir.”
His finger starts to move, in and out. The cool feeling warms, and I realize it’s the lube. My hands clutch his chest, his knees, as he adds a second finger to the first. I want him to stroke my clit too, to make this easier somehow.
But I already know this time isn’t supposed to be easy.
I try to relax, to find the pleasure in what he’s doing. I want this, but my body is resisting.
I remember the spanking. It hurt too. I focus on his hands, on his two fingers, sliding in and out of my ass. I let all the rest go.
I let myself be his.
The fire in my nipples connects to the discomfort in my ass and somehow warms it. Changes it. I can feel myself opening, beginning to welcome his fingers. I start to try to move in rhythm with his hands and then stop. He told me to be still.
He makes another one of those low, approving sounds, and his second hand moves to my clit, stroking in slow circles that shouldn’t drive me crazy, but absolutely do.
I can feel pleasure starting to build now.
He takes his fingers out of my ass, and I feel more of the cool lube. And then I feel something sliding in that isn’t his fingers.
The purple beads. He slides the first one in and out a few times. I relax. It’s a lot smaller than his fingers. I’m also a little disappointed. It doesn’t feel like much of anything.
He chuckles. “Impatient, are you?” He stuffs several beads into my ass all at once. I gasp and try to squeeze my legs closed.
He swats my clit. “Be still.”
Now my clit is on fire just like my nipples—and I desperately want him to do it again.
He goes back to rubbing circles with that hand and slides the beads in and out of my ass. Two in, one out. Lazy. Building. They’re not nearly so small anymore.
Another one in. And another one.
I’m beginning to feel fire in my ass, too. The beads are so much bigger. Not going to fit. It’s uncomfortable, riding the edges of pain—and creating electric lines of pleasure all over my body.
Again he swats my clit, and this time it nearly shocks my body over the edge he’s forbidden me to go over. I suck in a frantic breath, trying not to come.
And let my mad loose a little. He’s not playing fair, not even a little bit.
His fingers invade my pussy, keeping time with the in and out of the anal beads.
I’m going to lose this battle. I can feel my head starting to shake back and forth. I can’t stop this. He’s doing things to me that have taken me somewhere that doesn’t know how to resist.
I can hear my voice keening. Begging. Asking for his help.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Damon
She’s utterly obedient and completely gorgeous and totally desperate, and fighting off an orgasm with all that she has.
My stunning, beautiful sub.
I want to gather her up and make wild crazy love with her and tell her just how much it means that she will do this for me.
Be this for me.
But my job right now is to help her get to where she’s trying to go, because I know where it is and she’s so new to this that she doesn’t even know it’s a thing. She’s got the instincts of a born submissive, and she’s seeking subspace with skill and grace and courage and I’m flattened that she’s going to let me help her get there.
We’re so far beyond beginner training now that it’s ridiculous, but she’s my sub and I’m her Dom and I’m absolutely going to give her this. She’s ready, as impossible as that should be. She trusts me enough, and she’s found enough of the power in her own surrender.
This release I can give her.
It’s my hands reaching to lift the blindfold off this time. I need to see her eyes. I need to give her an edge to push on that isn’t going to shove her straight into orgasm.
I wait long enough for her eyes to clear a little of their haze. To see mine, and the intent I have waiting there for her to read. In this moment, she’s entirely mine. I lean over and get right in her face and put on my strictest Dom voice. “Emily, I’m going to take the nipple clamps off now. And when I do, you will not come.”
She’s nearly lost, and still she nods. Still she braces, willing herself to do what I’ve demanded.
It kills me to push her this way, but I expected the clamps to last fifteen seconds, not fifteen minutes. I take them off fast and keep my eyes glued to hers.
She seizes as all the blood in her body rushes to her breasts. I watch her like a Dom hawk, ready to give her permission to come if she needs it, if she can’t hold it back. I won’t have her feeling like she’s failed. Not when she’s gone so deep into all that is right and good and holy in my world.
Somehow she claws it back.
Somehow she keeps her eyes melded with mine and holds her orgasm at bay. She doesn’t even feel it as I pull the anal beads out. She’s too lost in her fight to control what we’ve let loose.
I can help her with that. I need to help her with that.
I hear myself growl as I push away the bar and roll her over on my lap. I don’t even wait long enough to position her right. She doesn’t have time for me to fuss, and this isn’t going to take long.
Her ass in the air brings the smell of her arousal straight to my nose, and it’s all I can do not to bury my face in it.
I land a sharp blow on her ass cheek instead. It’s not gentle, and I’m not warming her up first. I’m giving her what she needs.
I watch her eyes as the first blows land. Surprise. Shock. And then, in less than a handful of heartbeats—outrageous gratitude. She wants this, and she needs this, and she’s just realized that I’m about to give it to her.
My hand rains down on her ass, one side and then the other, setting up a rhythm fast enou
gh and hard enough to make this as easy for her as I possibly can. The day will come, and soon, where she’ll be able to get off on this too, but right now there’s enough pain mixed with the pleasure that it’s helping her to focus.
She’s zoning in on my hand like a sub who’s been doing this for years.
I watch her eyes. Emily’s about to meet subspace for the first time in her life and it’s me she’s trusting to send her there and I don’t want to miss a single instant.
She lets out one long, last, fierce exhale, and then she’s gone. Here in every way possible, but the container that holds the shape of Emily Madigan has just utterly dissolved.
The ultimate act of sub trust.
I gentle the spanking on her ass. Slow it down. Let her feel it ending.
My hands move in the ways that I know will soothe her, hold her, keep her safe while she takes her first journey through subspace and finds her way back. I settle her into my chest, covering us both, keeping her warm.
I’m the kind of Dom who takes aftercare seriously. That I’m having to fight for the strength to do it astonishes me. I barely have anything left.
She just steamrolled both of us.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emily
It feels like a womb.
That’s my first thought, or at least the first one with words in a long time. I’m in a bubble bath, lying with my head on Damon’s chest. His heartbeat is pulling me gently back to the surface from wherever I went.
I can’t think about that.
I’m surrounded by water, but the one place I desperately need it is parched dry. I open my mouth to try to say something, and all I manage is a dusty rasp.
Damon holds a bottle of water to my lips before I even finish. “Drink slowly, sweetheart.”
I want to gulp, but I don’t have enough muscles back under my control to do that yet. I take small sips of water, feeling the parched lands in my throat weeping with gratitude. I’m pretty sure we make it to bottle number two before I shake my head a little and he takes it away.
I go back to listening to his heartbeat.
I’ve never felt this held. This cherished. This safe.
His hand is moving now, stroking my hair. “How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve just been reborn. I snuggle in a little closer—and realize that he’s naked.
Of course he is—we’re in the bathtub. I start to laugh. “You finally took off your clothes and I literally don’t have the strength to move.”
His chuckle rumbles under my ear. “You’ll recover, I promise.”
He has. I can feel him getting hard against my side. I move a little, trying to get closer.
“Be still.” This time the words aren’t command, just wry humor.
I can feel my curiosity waking up. I want to see him. Touch him.
His arms tighten around me. “Not a chance. Bath, food, bed, in that order. You just did something huge, Em. You need to give yourself time to process and recover.”
I might actually be pouting—but something he just said catches my attention. “I went someplace.” As soon as I say it, it sounds silly, but there’s something I want to know. Need to know. “Like the women in the dungeon.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t seem confused by my halting words. “It’s called subspace, and it’s pretty much the holy grail of BDSM for a sub.”
It felt like a trance, and I’m still not entirely back. “What causes it?”
He’s gently laughing at me again. “You want the technical explanation or the simple one?”
I grin into his chest. “I’m a wedding planner. Details are my life.”
His hands are stroking me, holding me gently. “It’s basically a really stellar endorphin high. Doms can go there too, although we have to be careful not to leave a sub hanging when we do it.”
I wasn’t in any shape to be in charge of anybody. “I bet.”
“Some subs compare it to a drug high, or an altered state like you might find with really deep meditation. We just use different methods to get there.”
I’ve gone to a few meditation workshops. There definitely weren’t any spankings or anal beads. “You’re totally advertising the wrong stuff with the ropes and handcuffs. This would sell like hotcakes.”
His thumb strokes my cheek gently. “It’s very rare for a beginner to go there like you did. That usually requires a lot of play with the same partner to build up trust, and to build up the sub’s skill at surrender.”
Something in his voice is catching at me. I raise my head, which feels like it weighs three times the normal amount, so I can see in his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
He kisses my forehead. “No. You did something beautiful and stunning and entirely right, and I’m incredibly honored you chose to do it with me.”
His gentleness is even more shattering than his strength.
I cuddle back into his chest, still deeply needing the physical comfort.
His arms snug me in tighter. “This part is called aftercare. We talk, we cuddle, we make sure we both land safely from where we’ve just been.”
He’s getting hard against my side again. I start to wiggle, and then I look up. “I don’t know how this works. When do you get what you need?”
He grins. “I’m sitting in a bathtub with a really sexy woman in my arms. Do I look deprived?”
I let my fingers reach out and wrap gently around his hardness.
He growls. “Bath, food, sleep.”
I can feel my unease growing. “This feels really lopsided.”
“Don’t bring your assumptions from vanilla sex into this world, Em.” He’s back to stroking my hair. “Orgasm isn’t the goal here. It’s a tool, just one way to explore what’s possible. I’m getting plenty out of our time together, and if I’m not, it’s my job to do something about that, not yours.”
I sigh. “Sorry—my inner feminist is protesting.”
He laughs. “Talk to Ari sometime. She’s the strongest feminist I know. She’ll tell you that equal isn’t about being the same. It’s about being able to express completely who you are, even if that’s radically different, and having it met and held and supported.”
Something in my brain lights up. I push away from his chest, try to grab hold of this new thing I’ve just sensed the edge of. And can’t find the words.
He’s got that proud look in his eyes again. “Do you feel weak? Powerless?”
I can barely lift my arms, but I know what he’s asking. “No.”
He runs a gentle hand over my breasts. “My power is in control. Yours is in surrender.”
All this touch is feeding something I never even knew was hungry. “I didn’t know how that would feel.” How consuming, and how right.
His eyes hold messages I don’t entirely understand. “That’s the whole point of this. To share a space where we both have permission to be who we need to be.”
I reach out and run a hand over his chest, just like he’s doing with mine. “Is it okay for me to touch?”
“Yeah.” His hand rests lightly on top of mine for a moment. “But I’m serious on the bath, food, sleep thing.”
It isn’t sex I’m seeking—it’s connection. But I’m not brave enough to tell him that. “Yes, Sir.”
He tweaks my nipple, gently. “Brat.”
I just grin at him, a dopey, endorphin-drunk woman covered in bubbles who can’t get enough of him and no longer cares if he knows it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Damon
She’s dangerous.
I see the look in her eyes, and I feel its mate stirring uncomfortably somewhere inside my ribs. I could fall for her. Hard. And that would be a fucking disaster, because our lives are about as incompatible as it gets.
I also know that I have no business worrying about crap like that while I have a naked sub in my arms, especially one this new who’s gone this deep. BDSM is about living in the moment, and I won’t rob either of us of the ones we’ve agreed to.
There are still lots of hours left, and if I want to use them holding her and listening to her breathe and imprinting who she is on my soul, that’s my damn right.
Her fingers are still running over my chest, light as the bubbles she’s swirling. I lift her up and straddle her across my lap. My cock jumps to attention, but I ignore it. This is about keeping my sub open to me, nothing more.
My hands move to stroke her thighs underwater.
Her eyes widen, and then recognize what my hands are telling her. She’s held, wanted—and my plans to jump her again aren’t starting now.
I massage gently into some muscles that I suspect are pretty sore. Time for a more explicit aftercare check-in. Not all subs need to debrief, but she needs to know that I can and I will, especially if she’s going to throw herself so hard at what I offer her. “You sore?”
“Some.” Her smile is a fascinating mix of embarrassed and proud. “I don’t mind.”
She’s fucking adorable. “Good. I wasn’t very gentle with you, and I don’t plan to be in the morning either.”
The color that rises in her cheeks is almost as much of a turn-on as her sharp intake of breath.
I slide my hand between her legs. She leans into me, ready to do whatever I ask.
It takes all my self-control and Dom common sense to circle her clit very quietly. “And here? Sore?”
“Yes.” I can see the frustration in her eyes. “But if you’d just keep doing that, and a little harder, it won’t be that way for long.”
Not a chance. She’ll come in ten seconds right now, and I’m not depriving either of us of that moment happening exactly when it should. I trail my fingers further back and find her tight, still-lubed hole and slide a finger in. “And here?”
She’s rolling her eyes at me. “This is the weirdest check-up ever.”
I slide my finger out and cup her delicious ass and pull her in close to me so she can feel how hard my cock is begging. “I’m just making sure you’re ready for hour twenty-five.”
She grinds against me once, and then stops without me having to say a thing. She’s learning fast.