Becoming His, Learning to Breathe: Part Two - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 8

by Ellie Masters

  Oh, he’d made more than an impact. He’d lodged himself deep inside her heart, her brain, and was even now digging around in her soul. She played along with Ellen’s game and circled the table, choosing her seat.

  “The red roses aren’t for me. Derek and I are too new to be in love. The fire roses could be for me, since they represent passion. Derek has to be the most passionate man I’ve ever known.”

  She walked past the burnt umber rose petals and came back around to stand in front of the last plate. She picked up the rosebud and brought it to her nose. She inhaled the full, rich scent. Was there anything Derek did that wasn’t fabulous? Sally glanced at Ellen and gave a wistful smile. She sighed and took her seat.

  “White for purity. I’m new to this lifestyle. The ring…” She glanced up at Derek and gave a wink. Her hand drifted up to touch her neck. “It’s a future promise. And this rosebud, it’s the promise of what might bloom between us.”

  “I see you’re a romantic, too,” Ellen said. “That’s a good thing because Master Derek is kind of a romantic mess.”

  Derek coughed hard into his hand. “Bullshit.”

  “Oh, he’s all growly and badass when he needs to be.” Ellen took the seat with the red roses. “But, his heart is big, and if you figure out the right buttons, squishably soft.”

  “I’m not squishably soft,” he exclaimed. “Where’s your Master? You shouldn’t be let out without a leash.”

  Placed on the table were covered domes. Ellen lifted one to reveal a platter of finger sandwiches, fresh fruit, cut cheeses and sliced meat. She scooped the flowers off her plate and arranged them into a pile at the top of her place setting. Sally copied her, arranging hers into a tightly packed ring, two blooms high of the delicate white petals. She placed the red rosebud directly in the center.

  Ellen took a bite of a finger sandwich and grinned. Sally’s stomach rumbled, and she glanced at Derek.

  “Am I supposed to ask permission first, or serve myself? Or am I supposed to serve you first?”

  “I serve you,” he said, then proceeded to fill her plate with a couple of finger sandwiches. He scooped out slices of melon, honeydew, and pineapples, and then filled his plate.

  “Sally and I were sitting down to discuss limits,” Derek said. “We weren’t exactly expecting company.”

  “Ah,” Ellen said, “well then, let me just fix a plate for Warren, and I’ll be on my way.” She filled a plate, but before she left, she paused, giving Derek a look, but her words were for Sally. “You can trust him. He’s well respected and adored. He might be a bit intense, complicated, and particular about what he wants, but you’re safe with him. It’s important you understand that. Derek is a gentleman first, and a master second. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Ellen’s face lit up with a serene expression. In a whisper, she said, “Once you step over the abyss, hand over control to your partner, it’s the most liberating experience in the world.” She patted Sally’s shoulder. “It’s a wonderful and beautiful thing you’re becoming. Our path is not easy, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Anything you need, you come to me. If you decide to follow him, you’re going to love it.”

  “Ellen,” Derek said, “Take Warren his food. We need a moment.”

  “Yes, Master Derek,” she said with a slight dip. “Will you be joining us in The Cellar?”

  “Ellen…”

  Derek’s toned prompted Ellen to grab the plates she’d packed with food, but only after leaning down to kiss Sally on the cheek. “Welcome, my submissive sister. I can’t wait to hear what he has planned.”

  “Ellen!”

  With a squeak, she made a hasty retreat. Her soft laughter floated back on a breeze. “I like you, Sally. I really do.”

  “I like you, too, Ellen,” Sally called out.

  Focused on the food for a bit, she took her time to taste the pineapple, savoring the moment. Then she turned to Derek, and before he could speak, she rushed in with her thoughts.

  “I don’t want this to stop. I want to plunge in. All the normal warnings in my head are silent when I think they should be screaming. And worst of all, it doesn’t bother me. I want to keep plunging into the depths, even though I have no idea where I’m headed. I trust you, Derek. I really do.”

  He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, sweeping them across the backs of her knuckles. “Then let’s begin.”

  Red, Yellow, or Green

  “So, how does this work?” Sally asked. “Do we draw up a contract?”

  A glance around the table revealed no pad of paper. No contract to sign.

  Derek took a bite of his food and chewed, taking his time. When her frustration grew unbearable, she shifted in her seat and opened her mouth to fill the silence. Derek silenced her by lifting a single finger. He scooted back in his chair, turning it sideways to the table. Then pointed to the ground.

  “We talk about this as a Dom and his potential sub. I need you to kneel before me. Show me your intent to become mine. Accept your place at my feet.”

  Holy hellfire!

  That was hot.

  Her hand flew to her belly, clutching at the riot going on in there. A glance at him had her meeting an iron will. He was waiting on her to move. The entire mood shifted, the tone of their conversation changing in a moment. And, hell, she loved it. Slowly, she rose from her chair and came to stand in front of him.

  With a whisper, she placed her faith in him. “I trust you.”

  He said nothing, merely stared as if he fully expected her to comply. She did. This was what she wanted to explore: him in charge and her not. Questions aside, there would be only one way to discover if this was her path.

  With as much grace as she could manage, she lowered herself to her knees. Grace, unfortunately, did not shine down on her. She wobbled and came down too hard on her knees. Biting back a yelp, she regained her composure. This had better not take too long because the stone was hard and unyielding.

  Wait? How was she supposed to kneel? Ass to heels? Or, was she to lift up like one would do at a pulpit? Did he expect her to bow, pressing her forehead to the ground? If that were the case, she’d have to scoot back a bit, because she was too close to his long legs. A glance at those legs had her staring right at his crotch and the bulge growing more prominent with every second. Now, she didn’t know where to even look.

  “Um…”

  “Sit back on your heels, Sally,” he said with a low rumble. His voice had changed, it was firmer and more raw.

  “Yes…Sir.”

  He’d said they wouldn’t use titles for the weekend, but this felt like a moment one needed to be used.

  “How does that feel?”

  “The ground?” she asked. “It’s a bit uncomfortable.”

  “No,” he said. “How does it feel to acknowledge me as your Sir?”

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “It feels…awkward, exciting, scary, and makes me feel a little giggly.”

  “Giggly?” His eyebrow arched. “Explain?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It feels funny kneeling in front of you. Like we’re playing a game.”

  He surged forward and gripped her face between her hands. Before she could blink, or react, his lips crashed against hers. His response incapacitated her thought processes, tossing her mind into a tailspin. Their lips remained fused together for an eternity of time. The light flavor of melon on his breath embedded in her taste buds, and the richness of his scent, sandalwood, musk, and something entirely him, filled her senses until all she could taste, smell, or feel, was everything Derek. Seconds could have passed, or the moments of a lifetime. With her face cupped in his hands and his lips sealed against hers, time really had no relevance. Nothing existed outside of him.

  Eventually, he did release her. Derek sat back, his lungs pulling for breath. “Did that feel funny or fake?”

  She blinked against the light and pressed her fingers t
o her lips.

  “This isn’t a game,” he said. “When you kneel before me, it has profound meaning.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I know, it’s just…” Then she sat back, and really took a hard look at him.

  He sat above her, long legs bent at ninety-degrees, legs spread wide taking up the space around him with the confidence of a man used to being in charge. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers curled slightly. He was at once the picture of a man at rest and one coiled tight as a spring.

  Her heart thudded behind her breastbone, knocking out a rhythm not made of fear, but of wonder. This felt, if not right, then destined. It brought a sense of calm over her racing thoughts. Lines of dialogue from The Submissive’s Journey popped into her head. She latched on to those and repeated them to Derek, hoping he would understand.

  “Please, Sir, I am yours. If it pleases you, I’d like to continue.”

  “I want to take you to The Cellar tonight. It’s my friend Damien’s private club, located here on the premises. I’d like to negotiate a scene with you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions. I want you to answer honestly. Red for no, you would never consider doing that. Green for yes, it’s something you’d like to try. Yellow is the answer you’ll give for things that frighten you, or that you don’t understand, but don’t belong on your red list. These are things I’ll decide for you, placing them on your red or green lists for you. You give me that power. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. I’ve already spanked you. Is that red or green?”

  Her throat felt tight, but that answer was obvious. “Green.”

  “Will you accept my authority to discipline you?”

  She swallowed with this one. That granted him incredible power, but the thought had her squeezing her thighs together. Despite the shakiness of her voice, she answered. “Green.”

  “Thank you, Sally. That pleases me more than you know. Thank you for the gift of your trust.”

  Her cheeks flushed with his praise.

  His questions continued, moving rapid fire from one to the next. If she thought too long on an answer, he asked if that was one to place on the yellow list or the red.

  Hopefully, he didn’t mind the growing number of things she answered with red. The research he’d assigned served its purpose. She’d seen most of what he’d asked during her reading. On the red list were things like breath holding, water play, being shared with others, sharing him with others, knife play, fire play, and scarification. Her items on the green list both excited and terrified her. Impact toys topped the list, light bondage, blindfolds, and hoods were fine. Gags and takedown play went on yellow. There were a few others as well. Things such as violet wands and orgasm denial. Why denying orgasms was a thing was beyond her comprehension, but it didn’t seem bad enough to go on the red list. She also put having sex in front of others as yellow. That was something she’d never done, but Derek spoke of a club, and that meant people. It wasn’t red, but definitely not a green.

  The uneven stone pavers dug into her knees. If she didn’t get up soon, she’d have bruises. Oh, that was another thing that went on yellow. Bruises were fine, but nothing which would be visible, nothing permanent, and nothing that would cripple. Canes, too. Those seemed overly painful and nearly made it on red, but he’d mentioned using a cane.

  She wouldn’t deny him that, and simply trusted he would find her limits. Now the bullwhip, that one landed firmly on red. It didn’t matter if he was an expert, she’d seen what those could do, and didn’t want to risk a scar, or worse, accidentally losing an eye. Whips might sound hot and erotic, but all it would take was a simple mistake.

  Finally, his questions came to an end.

  “Would you be willing to scene with me in The Cellar?”

  Their first scene. A hive of bees chased out the butterflies in her stomach. They buzzed and rioted, and nearly made her sick.

  “May I ask a question, Sir?”

  His brow arched. “Is that rhetorical, my sub?”

  She loved the way he said, ‘my sub.’ He growled out the two syllables, with hard possession placed on ‘my’ and the gentle softness of ‘sub.’ How did he do that with the tone of his voice alone?

  “Sir, if it pleases you, I have a question.” She plucked those words from one of the blogs she’d read. She and Derek hadn’t discussed protocols. They’d barely discussed the use of ‘Sir.’ Already, she’d bypassed his thoughts on that. Shit. Shit. Shit!

  He leaned forward and scooped her into his arms. “What just happened? What’s going on in that head?”

  Too many thoughts. They bounced and buzzed and tangled in knots. She couldn’t focus on one train of thought because there was too much to take in.

  “I just realized…”

  He brushed back her hair. “What?”

  “About using ’Sir.’ I’m sorry, you’d said not to use titles for the weekend, and then I…” She searched his face, looking for disappointment, but found something else instead.

  “And then you gave me the greatest gift in the world.”

  “But…”

  “Before, on the boat, it was forced and wrong.”

  That was true. She’d tried calling him Sir and felt awkward for doing so.

  “You said to drop the titles, and I ignored you.” She’d disobeyed a direct command. Her gut churned and hardened into a lump.

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “And just now, you used it. By your choice.”

  She could only nod, and couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to violate a rule.”

  “Stop,” he commanded. “Listen.”

  He lifted her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. Sitting in his lap, she felt quite small and vulnerable. His entire body bracketed her in. The strength of his arms enfolded her. The hard press of his legs supported her. The wide expanse of his chest became her pillar of support. His presence flooded her senses, and she breathed him in. Domination and pain might be his drug, but he was fast becoming hers. She needed more.

  “I didn’t correct you,” he said. “What did I do?”

  She thought back through their conversation, but couldn’t remember her exact words.

  “You told me,” he said, “kneeling made you feel giggly. But you never answered how using the title made you feel. Tell me now.”

  She bit her lower lip, then realized she did that entirely too much. So instead, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, needing a moment to capture her thoughts.

  “I like it,” she admitted. “It turns my insides gooey.”

  “Gooey?” His eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Never heard that one before.”

  It made her ache at the apex of her thighs, a pulsating throb which drove her mad.

  Somehow, he placed her at ease. Maybe it was the way he cradled her in his arms or the way the heat of his hand pressed against her leg. Somehow, he soothed her with his presence. She liked that. She liked that nearly as much as calling him ‘Sir.’

  “I guess, it makes me feel special, but there’s more.”

  “More?”

  “It makes me feel protected.” She peeked up at him beneath her lashes. “It feels…exciting to know there’s a difference between us. I must obey, and…”

  “And?”

  “And if I don’t…” She squirmed in his lap. “If I don’t, then you’ll punish me.”

  Beneath her, his cock lengthened and grew hard.

  “Don’t confuse punishment with pleasure. What happened on the yacht was pain for pleasure, not pain to enforce control. I eroticized the spanking to enhance the sex. When I punish you, it won’t feel the same.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, “but it’s hot knowing you might.” She shifted her legs, not the least surprised to find him fully erect. She continued, “Thinking about it makes my insides all melty.”

  “Be care
ful, my sub, discipline gets me off. Holding you down and beating your ass is an act which will turn me on. I’ll fuck you, but I’ll do it to assert my dominance and control, not to get you off. It’ll be raw, one-sided, and meant to show you I can take what I want, when I want, and how I please.”

  Her heart might just explode. It rattled behind her ribcage, thundering at what his words implied. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to straddle him in the seat.

  “Sir, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m so going to misbehave.”

  He stood, holding her in his arms, as she wrapped her legs around his hips. “How about a light impact scene, my sub. Something to warm your ass and explore some boundaries?”

  Nuzzling into his neck, she clung to him. “As long as it ends with you burying your cock inside of me, I’m at your mercy.”

  He laughed hard and long, devouring the distance to the main house in ground swallowing strides. Behind them, the thump, thump, thump of the rock concert faded.

  “Sally, don’t ever tell me how to fuck or put conditions on sex. I asked you a simple yes or no question.”

  “Yes Sir,” she said, “but may I make a request?”

  “What’s on your mind?” He threw open the door to the house and marched them through and past the doorway, heading deep into the mansion.

  “Can it just be us? I don’t think I’m ready for an…well, an audience.”

  “Darling, for our first real scene, I wouldn’t think to share that with anyone else.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have your safe word. Use it if you need to, but if you choose red, know that everything stops.”

  Green

  Red?

  Sally made a promise to herself. No matter how much he pushed or tested her boundaries, she wouldn’t use that word. To do so would disappoint him and crush her dreams for something more. Because as terrifying as it was to hand over control, she desperately needed to know if Derek was capable of taking the reins. She thought he could. She wanted him to. She felt he might. But she didn’t know if he could make her believe this could be real rather than some elaborate fantasy.