BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Her breath hitched in her chest and her blood pounded as the scarf pressed in. As soon as she realized the pressure was there, it was gone again. She faltered for a moment, but Master Jensen squeezed her ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Focus, Anna,” he admonished her.

“Yes, Master.”

She went back to fucking herself on him, using the slow, grinding rhythm she knew would drive him wild.

Again the scarf tightened, restricting her breath for just a moment longer than the first time. She looked at her master, her lips parted to take the breath he held captive. Their gazes locked as he tightened the pressure for the third time, this time holding it long enough that her chest heaved.

A spike of pleasure shot through her. Anna’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What?” he asked, seeing her reaction.

“That felt…that felt good.”

He nodded once. “It’s restricting the oxygen flow to your brain. Carbon dioxide is accumulating and that’s what’s making it feel good’. It’s like being at a high altitude.”

She listened vaguely, glad he knew the physiology, but not wanting to think about it too much, in case it distracted her from the pleasure.

She could feel his fists on her back, knew he held the ends of the scarf there. It both thrilled and terrified her that he controlled her so completely.

“Faster,” he growled, and Anna increased the speed of her hips.

He stole another breath from her, holding it long enough that her body spasmed, reacting to the denial with an illogical pleasure. Giddiness swept through her.

“Faster,” he demanded again.

her forearms on his shoulders, threw her head back and fucked him hard and fast.

the scarf tight around

“Come, Anna,” he demanded.

tricked her body into a heightened state of pleasure. Her chest heaved, she could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. She was owned, controlled, pleasured and worshiped. She trusted him completely. He mastered her, body and soul, and she owned him in returned. The scarf went slack and his hands grabbed her hips, holding her still as he jackhammered up into

chest, the scarf

***

creaked. His palms tingled

was more mature in her face, placing her in her late rather than early twenties. Or perhaps it was the way she was dressed in the photo that made her seem

and cane her ass and breasts until she begged him

be paired with Mae. Hours of arguing with Mistress Faith and he hadn’t gotten anywhere. He’d been tempted to walk away, forfeiting his membership, but Faith had convinced him to at least meet with the sub, and trust that the rules of the game,

submissive who held all the power, because the sub decided whether the Dom merited the trust needed to proceed. Mae would refuse and he would be free to find another sub to play with for the limited amount of time he had here. Though technically if Mae walked away, she’d be in violation of this ridiculous checklist game, Xavier had made Faith agree not to kick

here to fight back the darkness inside him. Forcing him to waste a night like this was

lesson Mistress Faith wanted to teach him, Xavier doubted she had any idea how truly torturous this was, because though he and Mae were as different as silk and steel, there was something about

shifted her weight and clasped her hands together, Xavier decided it was probably time to

* * *

freed her from the cuffs and clamps, then laid them down and curled around her, holding and protecting her. When she rolled over to face him, she could see the power and impact of what they’d done in the tense lines of his face. She kissed and stroked him, her touches not meant to arouse but to calm. He laid his head on her breast, the tension slowly leaving his body. She rested her hand on his

sexy scars,” he

it a million times before. She doubted he

survived,” she replied

remembered the moment they’d come for her, taking her into the hospital, where she’d gotten her first look at the boy she loved. But it hadn’t been a boy who lay there, it had been a man, his body wrapped in gauze, forty

job she wanted. She’d even tried to date—but it hadn’t worked. She found the men she met at the firm or at posh cocktail parties weak and insipid. She’d longed

noticed her disdain for the men in their circle of acquaintances. He’d invited her out for drinks, plied

to Master Leo. He’d tutored and guided her

that he was the reason she craved such strong men, and that it was killing her to