C is for…

by L. DuBois

  Last weekend she’d been disappointed to be part of the scenery—a piece of furniture or a human prop—but in that moment she would have cheerfully offered to serve as a footstool rather than have everyone looking at her with questions in their eyes.

  She felt…vulnerable. It was insane, but she was more exposed at this moment than she was when naked and chained to a wall in the dining room for display.

  “Beth, look at me.”

  Turning her head, she kept her gaze on the ground.

  “Beth.” Now there was a warning in his voice, and that calmed her.

  Raising her chin she met his gaze. His face was stern with command, but his gaze examined her, touching each feature.

  “The only people who matter are you and me. The only person you should be worried about, or paying attention to, is me.”

  “Yes, Master James, I’m sorry—”

  “No, don’t apologize. If you feel unsure or scared, tell me. I don’t want you to feel those things, so when you do it means there’s something wrong.”

  “But that’s topping from the bottom.” Among subs, being accused of topping from the bottom was essentially being called a fraud or novice. There were a few subs at the club who cheerfully admitted that they liked or tried topping from the bottom, but their stories usually ended with sexy retellings of the “punishments” they earned for doing so.

  The punishments those women described were not the kind Beth had gotten when she failed to follow the rules.

  “No, it’s not. Communication is the single most important part of a BDSM relationship.” The corners of his mouth tightened, as if he were angry, but then his expression smoothed out. “I’m not always going to need you to talk to me. I’m going to be able to tell by the way your body responds, by how many times you orgasm…”

  Beth lost the rest of what he was saying. Her whole body flushed with arousal as soon as he said the word orgasm.

  “Beth?”

  “Hmmm?” He had beautiful lips. Would he kiss her?

  “How is it that no one has been treating you like the orgasm slut you clearly are?”

  Beth was saved from responding—was orgasm slut a bad thing?—when Master James bent, put his shoulder against her midsection, and stood with her dangling over his back.

  His hand across her calves held her in place as he carried her over to a large chair. The bottom and back cushions were heavy cream fabric, the frame and arms wide planks of dark wood varnished to a high gloss.

  James set her on her feet only long enough for him to take a seat. A sunbeam touched his hair, making it glow the color of old gold.

  He patted his thigh and raised one eyebrow. Beth took a half step, then froze, the voice in her head screaming at her that she should kneel, bow her head, put her arms behind her back. Years of training and practice were wrapped around her like chains, keeping her from moving forward.

  “Beth, I want you on my lap, and you want to sit on my lap. That is what you need to focus on.”

  She blew out a breath, then repeated what he’d just said in her mind. He was her Master; he wanted her on his lap.

  The fact that he cared if she wanted it also was just the cherry on top.

  Beth slid onto his knee, ankles together, feet pressed against the tile.

  Master James didn’t say anything, but his hand slipped under the back of the shirt, fingers tracing patterns on her lower back. She slid back a few inches, wanting more. His hand flattened, now rubbing in large circles.

  Another inch and his hand, still under the shirt, moved around to her belly, fingers coming oh-so-close to her breasts.

  “Come closer…” His voice was both teasing and full of heat.

  Beth slid all the way back, until her hip was pressed against his belly, her feet no longer on the floor.

  Master James nudged her off his lap, wedging her between his body and the throw pillow positioned at the arm of the chair. Beth stiffened, sure she had done something wrong, but he positioned his arm along her shoulders, almost as if they were on a date at the movies. He tugged the shirt to the side, the collar falling off her shoulder and exposing her right breast.

  “That’s better.” His fingers traced patterns on her breast, touching her everywhere but her nipple.

  Beth closed her eyes, breathing deep, waiting, waiting for the moment when he finally touched her nipple. Her hands were on her thighs, palms up. When kneeling, palms up on the thighs was an appropriate “relaxed” posture. It made her feel better to adapt part of an approved posture for her current situation.

  Soon the position of her hands was forgotten, all of her attention on her breast. She wanted, needed, him to touch her nipple, or maybe switch to her other breast. Better yet, for his fingers to slip between her legs and do those strange, wonderful things to her. She’d never had an orgasm like that before—nearly painful it was so intense.

  “James, how are you doing?” The sound of an unfamiliar voice made Beth jerk, but Master James’s fingers didn’t stop.

  “Good, how’re you?”

  Beth kept her eyes closed, trying to bring her body under control so she could pay attention in case Master James needed anything from her.

  “Isn’t that Cat’s sub Beth?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Ah.” There was a question in the sound, before the other Master said, “Oh, you got her for the checklist game.”

  “Yes.”

  Beth’s breath caught in her chest as pain lanced through her. The emotion was so unexpected that for a half second she though it was an actual physical pain.

  It shouldn’t hurt her, the other Dom’s tone or Master James’s response. She’d been the first to acknowledge that she wasn’t the kind of sub Doms like Master James normally selected. Others were going to wonder why he was playing with her, and the game was the natural conclusion.

  And the truth.

  Though Master James was still toying with her breast Beth was no longer floating in a haze of aroused anticipation. She opened her eyes, though kept them submissively lowered.

  Master James’s fingers stopped moving, his hand flattening over her chest.

  “Can you do me a favor?” Though she could tell Master James was looking at her, it was clear he was speaking to the other Dom.

  “Of course.”

  “I need some things.”

  Beth remained still as Master James leaned away from her to whisper to the other man. When he’d left, Master James shifted slightly, adjusting pillows until he was in a more relaxed half-reclining position.

  He tugged Beth’s shoulders until she was reclining against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. “We haven’t talked about our letter.”

  Beth found her tension slipping away as she lounged against him. “No, Master James, we haven’t.”

  “I assume Madame Cat told you it’s C.”

  “I figured it out.”

  “The cage and the collar, or lack thereof, were a rather large clue. How are you feeling about Madame Cat removing her collar?”

  Beth shrugged.

  “No, I want to hear how you’re feeling. The truth.” The command was clear in his voice.

  “I knew Madame Cat was moving and leaving LA. I didn’t know it was going to be today.”

  “That’s what you know, not how you feel.”

  A valid point, and she should have known he’d ask what for her was a difficult question. “I didn’t feel surprised when she removed her collar. I was…resigned. I’d planned to give up my own membership when Madame Cat left.”

  “Because you didn’t want to submit to anyone but her?” He sounded both surprised and concerned.

  “No, because being a sub is not what I thought it would be. I have not enjoyed it.” She shook her head, because that wasn’t quite right. “It has not been what I expected.”

  “You’re disappointed.”

  “Yes. Disappointed.” It felt good to say it, and it was true, but given her current position it was
an odd statement. “In the Subs’ Garden, when others talk about their sessions and scenes…” Beth didn’t want to finish the sentence. Anything she said would sound pathetic, as if she were whining. She didn’t want to do that.

  “Your submission hasn’t been fulfilling.”

  She was glad he understood. “Exactly.”

  “Have you considered topping?”

  Beth sucked in air and almost choked. “No!”

  “You don’t find that idea appealing?”

  “I could never do it. I could never be responsible for a sub.”

  “Why not? You said that you’re good at reading people.”

  “Not their emotions, not in situations like this.” She gestured to the courtyard, which was slowly filling with club members.

  “Beth, sit up and look at me.”

  She rose and twisted, this time meeting his eyes without being prompted.

  “Why did you join Las Palmas?”

  Taking a deep breath, Beth finally said, “I won’t answer that.” The answer revealed too many things, asked her to expose too much of her own weaknesses.

  Master James searched her face. “And you have the right not to. But I have to ask—are you sure you’re submissive?”

  Beth stiffened. “I’m a good submissive.”

  “You’re a good rule follower. That’s not the same thing. When you think about submitting, what do you imagine, what do you want? I don’t mean physically. What do you want to feel?”

  She almost left, almost stood up and walked away rather than answer. The last person to ask that was Master Leo at her interview for membership.

  Master James cupped her neck, thumb pressed lightly to the underside of her jaw. The physical contact centered her.

  “I want to not worry,” she whispered.

  “Worry about what?”

  “About if I’m saying the right thing, doing the right thing. I want to be with another person, but know that I’m being with them the right way.”

  “And the rules of BDSM…that’s how you’ll know you’re doing it the right way.” He spoke slowly, as if he were processing what he was saying as he spoke.

  “Yes.”

  “Beth, I have to ask, are you, uh…”

  She knew what he was saying. Plenty of people had either assumed or accused her of being on the autism spectrum. “Does it matter?”

  “No, and it was rude of me to say anything.” His matter-of-fact tone lacked the pity she feared. “But I’m worried that this is some kind of coping mechanism, and not something you really enjoy.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t considered that.”

  Master James ran a hand through his hair. “In light of what I’m planning to do to you, I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were actually going to enjoy it.”

  “You think I won’t?” The question was serious, but held a hint of teasing, something Beth wouldn’t have dared with anyone else. It was him—he made her behave this way. The only reason she dared was because he’d pleased her far more than anyone else had, making the idea that he wouldn’t please her laughable.

  “Okay, now you’re just insulting me.” His lips twitched, the sparkle in his eyes inviting her to again tease him in turn.

  “How am I insulting you?”

  “You’re implying I can’t pleasure you.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

  Master James grinned. “What you’re saying is that in all your years as a member here, no Dom has really pleasured you.”

  “Yes, so it’s not just you.”

  Master James let out a bark of laughter and Beth lost control of her smile. This was fun.

  Then Master James’s laugh faded to a grin and he looked pointedly to the side.

  Beth was suddenly aware that there was no chatter and almost every eye was on them. If it had been a movie, there would have been a screeching record to accompany the silence that fell after her words.

  She sucked in a breath and stared wide-eyed at Master James. He continued smiling, as if this were still funny, but all Beth could think was that she’d just insulted nearly a dozen Doms, some of whom might have used her before and would take it personally.

  Beth pushed herself to the edge of the chair, ready to drop to her knees. Master James grabbed her around the waist.

  “Oh no, you don’t.”

  “A sub should never speak disrespectfully about a Dom,” she whispered frantically.

  “A Dom should know how to pleasure a sub.”

  Beth shook her head. “You’re confusing me. It’s a sub’s job to pleasure the Dom, in whatever method or manner they find pleasing. A sub should get pleasure from that alone.”

  A strange laugh had Beth hunching her shoulders. The other Dom was back. He handed James a large bag. “Beth, my dear, if you really think that, then we’ve all failed you.”

  The statement elicited a smattering of laughter from those closest to them. Someone said, “Do you hear that, pet? You job is to please me in whatever manner I want, so come here and give me a kiss.”

  Beth was having trouble figuring out what was going on. “Are they laughing at me?”

  “No. They’re laughing because that’s not the philosophy of most of the Doms here. Maybe if we were hanging out in the Iron Court it would be, but even then most Doms take pride in knowing they can make a sub come so hard she won’t remember her own name. Or pleasure her so well that pain becomes pleasure.”

  “I still don’t understand.” She wanted to, but she didn’t.

  “I’m guessing that Madame Cat, and others, thought that you derived pleasure from serving and being treated like an object. There are people with that kink—you’re just not one of them. You were sex misdiagnosed.” Master James stroked her cheek until she looked at him. “As illuminating as this has been, we’re done with this conversation. All you need to understand is that until Sunday evening you’re mine.”

  “Yes, Master James.” As the words left her mouth, a kind of peace settled over her.

  He examined her before he nodded. “We were discussing our letter. Do you remember the checklist?”

  “I do.”

  “And what do you think is on it, for the letter C?”

  “Cages, caning, cattle prod, cells, chains, chastity belts, choking, chores, clothespins, clamps, cock rings, cock worship, collars, corsets, and cuffs.”

  Master James looked startled. “Er, yes, that’s it exactly.”

  “Would you rather I not remember?”

  “No, but I had planned to tease you with the possibilities. I’m guessing you’ve had time to think about them.”

  “I have. None of them are on my list of hard limits.”

  “Well, a few of them are hard limits for me.”

  “They are?”

  “You’re surprised.”

  Beth debated asking her question, finally giving in. “Why do Masters need hard limits? The sub can’t make you do anything.”

  “True, but a sub might want or expect something I am not comfortable with, so a checklist helps make sure that no one is disappointed.”

  “I hadn’t considered that. What are your—”

  He pressed two fingers over her mouth. “I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to figure it out. Now, come back here so I can play with you.”

  Beth shifted around until she was once more curled up against him. This time she didn’t need any prompting to get comfortable. The shirt had fallen closed and she inched it off her shoulder, hoping his fingers might find their way back to her breast.

  “Is that an invitation?” His whisper was warm against her ear.

  “Yes,” she answered truthfully, hoping that was acceptable.

  “Well, it would be ungentlemanly of me to turn down such a pretty invitation.”

  Chapter Five

  His fingers returned to her right breast, tracing patterns over her skin, but avoiding the aching peak. Her nipple budded tight, and Beth arched h
er back slightly, offering herself, begging him without words.

  “Unbutton the shirt.”

  Beth’s fingers trembled as she obeyed, eagerly peeling it open so her whole torso was bare. Reaching across his body, Master James began to tease her left breast with his free hand while cupping the outer curve of her right.

  It was pleasurable, but not enough, not what she wanted.

  Beth arched her back, her head pressed hard into his shoulder.

  “What do you want, Beth?”

  “I want…” She knew exactly what she wanted, but couldn’t say it.

  “Tell me.”

  The command made it easier to speak. “I want you to touch my nipples.”

  “Just touch?” His fingers feathered over the tips of her breasts in a barely there caress.

  “More,” she pleaded quietly.

  Master James’s hands stopped moving. “That didn’t sound like begging.”

  “Should I beg?” Beth couldn’t stop the note of desperation that tinged her words. The constant teasing touch was making her feel desperate, far more desperate than a complete absence of touch would have.

  “That’s up to you. I might give in, if you beg enough.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Please, please, please.”

  A silent laugh made his chest rumble. “Please what?”

  “Please touch…uh, pinch my nipples.”

  “Hmm, a tempting idea.”

  Beth held her breath, but he didn’t do anything. Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressed into her palms. She could feel him waiting, but she was waiting too, waiting for him.

  He was the Dom, she was the sub.

  It was her place to be quiet, obedient. If he wanted to do nothing more than hold her breasts, that was his right.

  Master James bent his head over hers and kissed her shoulder, the crook of her neck, and then the soft spot just behind her ear. “The sooner you give in—the sooner you realize that your self-imposed control is the only thing standing between us—the sooner I can give you what you want. The sooner I can do the things your body is begging for.”