BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Mae stumbled into the Conclave. The elegant barn was deserted, the board bearing the alphabet letters the overseers had used to explain this horrible game still in the middle of the open space.

She didn’t know how to turn on the lights, so she left the door open. There was enough moonlight from that and the windows to guide her as she pushed open the heavy doors of what had been horse stalls and were now either elegant “cells” for naughty subs, or pens for horse and pony play. She found one that had a twin bed in it. With a sob she threw herself down on the mattress, grateful for whatever person had left soft cotton sheets in place.

She jerked her ruined stockings off, then removed the corset, dropping both carelessly onto the floor. Rolling onto her side she laid her palm over the hot place on her ass. The skin was sensitive to the touch, the residual pain equal to the deepest marks on her breast.

“Mae.”

She rolled, looking at the open stall door where a man stood silhouetted in the faint moonlight. She wasn’t surprised, but she wasn’t happy either. “Go away.”

He disappeared, and Mae blinked back tears. It was totally unfair of her to be disappointed that he’d left when she told him to, but right now she couldn’t manage fair. Her feelings were too jumbled.

Xavier returned, toting two heavy floor candelabras. The massive iron things went with the elegant Spanish style of the mansion, but when he placed them on either side of the room and flicked a lighter, all she cared about was that he’d made it light when she wanted dark.

“Leave me alone, Xavier.” She didn’t call him Master, using it to push him away.

“I won’t.”

“What more could you want from me?”

He dropped to sit on the floor, back against the wall. “I have no right to ask for anything more.”

“That’s right, you don’t.”

to know why you

“I don’t even have a tattoo, because I couldn’t commit to

why

to break that calm until he felt what she did. “Yes. And

eyes bored into her, and despite the walls of anger she’d erected,

feet. “I don’t even know you. I’ve never seen your face. But I wanted you to do it. I wanted to have you brand me so

can’t stand it.

away from him as she could be.

his hand out, seeming to include all of Las Palmas in the gesture. “But

a breath, her shaking subsiding as

no idea how much I wanted to brand you. To mark you. But I

Mae whispered. Couldn’t he see that she wanted him, needed him, for more than

obedient submissive, to spend

her mouth to say yes,

think so.” There was

a submissive.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right, at least not totally. How I’ve played, before—the bratty sub, the girl who gets spanking and cuddles

Xavier’s gaze sharpened. “Sixteen?”

raised me, but her health was bad, and she didn’t really know what to do with me. When I was in high school, I started playing around online. I found these men who were willing to send

“I’m sorry, Mae.”