BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“I said relax, Anna.”

“I can’t.”

Jensen dipped his head, his lips finding her pussy, tongue stroking her clit. Pleasure flickered along her nerve endings. He continued to pull the plug as he licked her clit. The pressure within her ass morphed from scary and painful to pleasure-pain.

“Master,” she moaned. “May I come?”

He lifted his head and slid two fingers into her pussy. “No.” He yanked the plug out.

Anna screamed, biting the duvet. Master Jensen continued to work his fingers in her pussy. Sensation rolled through her—she couldn’t define it as good or bad. It simply was.

Jensen rolled her onto her back, pushed her legs apart. “Spread for me,” he demanded.

Anna spread her legs open, pulling her knees up. “Master, please fuck me.”

He came down over her, his big body crowding her, his chest close enough that her nipples brushed him, but he held the weight of his body off her with his arms. His cock slid into her, full and thick, filling her in the way she needed, the way she craved. Anna wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if her sanity depended on it.

Often, it did.

His breath was heavy on her neck, his chin rough against hers. They clung to one another. It was the most basic kind of sex—just two people and their desire—and yet at the end of a long evening of play, it was the most important, the most meaningful.

“Master,” she whispered, unable to say more.

“Come,” he groaned, thrusts hard and fast as his orgasm approached.

Anna gasped as she came, her pussy and lower belly muscles clamping down, making Jensen’s cock feel even bigger inside her. He groaned, holding himself deep inside her as he came.

Jensen rolled over, pulling Anna onto his chest. “We’re done for now.”

Burying her face against him, Anna started to sob.

“It’s okay, love.” He sat up, back against the headboard, and cradled her on his lap.

Anna gave in to the overwhelming feelings. It was always like this for her after a powerful scene—she wasn’t sad, or in pain. Sometimes the physical pleasure of sex and orgasm wasn’t enough to release the emotions that had built up in her, so she cried. She’d spent her adult life learning to lock down her feelings. Only here did she allow herself to laugh and cry when she felt like it, without stopping to analyze or consider the ramifications. Master Jensen didn’t ask her what was wrong, didn’t tell her to stop crying. He knew her, knew she needed this as much as she needed his hands on her body.

As her sobs quieted, he slipped from the bed, carrying her to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, testing the water before getting in and pulling her in after him. He washed her until she was able to take the soap and do it herself. He didn’t leave—he stayed with her in the warmth, occasionally touching her, but never in a sexual way. She washed his back as he scrubbed his hands through his hair. Once they were done, they toweled each other dry.

Jensen held a robe for her and she slipped into it.

“I’ll give you a few minutes.” He motioned to the vanity, where her toiletry bags rested.

“Thank you.”

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

you come out, we

then closed it, dropping her

normally we’d stop for the night. This time

she agreed. It

and kissed her palm. “Have fun doing…whatever

a seat. Jensen grunted as she started pulling out bottles, then left the bathroom. Anna moisturized, taking her time with her nightly beauty routine, all while being careful not to think

she shed

he’d prefer fleece or plaid flannel, but he’d given in to her looks of

close he pulled her in for a long kiss. She slid her fingers into his still-damp hair, loving the feel of it, relishing in the freedom to

need to sleep,” he said as they broke apart. “I

we were

motioned to

pieces of

he said in answer to her unspoken question. “They’re a variety of arm binding. I figured you’d

try more than

just thinking of

Anna raised one brow.

grinned, totally unrepentant.

her palm. Her fingers were free, but a wide strap went around her palm, locking the sleeve in place with her thumb pressed against her hand, almost like a fingerless mitten. Laces ran

have assumed it was decorative more than functional, but it felt like he’d wrapped her

“How does it feel?”

I didn’t think it would

started to work the second sleeve onto her

I can’t bend my elbow. I didn’t think it would make me

kissed her hard and fast.

her head, submitting as Jensen finished lacing her other arm up. Once he

He threw back

“Like this?”

“Yes.”

can’t sleep like

“You’re going to.”

each other. She lay flat on her back,

climbed in