BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

James stilled the swinging cage, which was suspended at shoulder level in one of the Iron Court playrooms. The sub kneeling awkwardly inside barely reacted, except for a slight relaxation of the tense muscles in her face.

He’d carefully watched her interaction with Madame Cat, warned by Master Mikael’s words. Beth was either one of the quietest, most obedient subs he’d ever seen, was so deep in subspace that all her reactions were muted under a thick layer of knee-jerk obedience, or she was just going through the motions of submission with no real emotional connection to what was happening.

He hoped, almost desperately, that it was one of the first two.

James put his hand over hers, realizing that she was white-knuckling the bars, not merely holding on. He hadn’t been able to tell exactly how tense she was in her body language.

She didn’t look up, didn’t open her eyes, leaving him staring at her glossy dark hair, which was parted in a perfectly straight line. She was naked, though in her contorted position he could see relatively little of her body. Tilting his head he caught sight of her reddened left nipple, the lingering mark of Madame Cat’s fingers a testament to how tight the grip had been, and how much self control it had taken for Beth not to cry out at something that was surely painful.

James had never enjoyed subs who were either naturally secretive with their responses or who had been trained to stifle their reactions. Not that demanding quiet couldn’t be a fun aspect of a scene, especially when it was a rule that couldn’t possibly be followed, but he wanted to interact with a woman, to know what she was feeling. That was much harder to do if she just lay or sat there stiff and mute.

He wondered if Beth had been trained to be this way, or if it was part of her personality.

“Hello, Beth.”

She shivered slightly when he spoke, and it was the first totally uncontrolled reaction he’d seen from her.

“Hello, Master James.”

She knew his name. He was shocked, though perhaps he shouldn’t be. There weren’t so many members of Las Palmas that it would be extraordinary for someone to know everyone’s name. But she’d identified him by voice alone.

“Let’s get you out of that cage so we can talk.”

“As it pleases you, Master James.”

He was listening closely, watching her intently, so he caught the signs of relief—lowering of her shoulders, loosening of her grip on the bars.

It took him several minutes to find the control panel cleverly hidden in the stone wall. He turned off the spotlights, turned up the other room lights, and then lowered the cage, which was suspended from a mechanically controlled pulley.

down, he went back to the cage, unfastening the simple latches that held the door

stifled a sigh. “You can come

“Thank you, Master James.”

exit the cage, perhaps scared of a scene with him after having only a moment ago lost the

held out his hands. “Give me your hands. I’ll help you

met his. What he saw in her gaze was a bright and powerful mixture of emotions—pain, anticipation, and lust. The force of her personality and desire was nearly enough to knock him back onto his

Forcing himself to focus, James rose slowly, drawing her up until she was kneeling with her back straight. When the pressure of her fingers in his increased, James closed his hands around hers, giving her something to brace against

to ankle were marked with deeply embedded red lines, the crosshatch a perfect replica of the bottom

protectiveness washed over him. He held it back—subs were not princesses in need of rescuing. They were grown

be cared for, not to

hands and knelt, rubbing her lower legs with firm, hard strokes. She made a small noise and swayed. For a moment her hands brushed his body as she instinctively reached out to steady herself. When she jerked back from the contact, she almost lost her balance. James grabbed

fall; brace yourself while I rub

was on her hands, on what she’d do. With rueful amusement he realized he was holding his breath waiting to see if she’d touch him. One hand

it, but then she did it again, skimming

breath caught, and her irises dilated with desire. Her hand clenched in his hair, not pulling, but possessive. A flush

with a jerk that shook her whole body, dropped her chin, eyelids now submissively lowered. She folded her arms behind her back, cupping the opposite elbow in each hand in a position that was physically demanding to maintain due to the pressure it put on the shoulders—it was a

stared at her, utterly and completely fascinated. If anything, Master Mikael had undersold exactly what was going

since he’d gotten to Las Palmas this afternoon, James smiled. It was going to be a very good

* * *

having trouble describing what had just happened well enough for her normal process to work. On the surface it was simple: he’d rubbed her legs, she’d touched his shoulder with one hand and with the other she’d petted his hair. That

looked in one another’s eyes as the real source of her turmoil, but in the next breath dismissed that thought

contact with him—or the memory of how firm his chest was under the soft fabric of his dress shirt. She wanted

clue as to how severe an infraction he would consider her behavior. Madame Cat would have reacted with immediate disappointment and correction. Remembering the items on the C list, Beth knew she was more

last of those unidentified emotions

slightly, and there were more

“Beth, come here.”

front of her. As soon as she saw his shiny black shoes she stopped, waiting for