BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“And you, are you wet, Beth?”

“Yes, Master James.”

Beth was in an almost dreamlike state—the warmth of his body was seeping into her bare skin, the pressure of his hands on her skin had a strangely calming effect and she was able to answer his questions with absolute truth without feeling awkward.

She was so lost in the feelings that she gasped when Master James grabbed her hips and spun her around so her back was against his chest. Firm hands grabbed her thighs and forced her legs along the outside of his, opening and exposing her sex.

“Raise your hands, put them on my head.” His voice was rough.

Beth obeyed, but the peace of a moment ago was gone, every muscle tense with dread. She’d forgotten where she was, what she was, and now she’d be punished. Flogging and whipping of her pussy were on her list of hard limits, but experience had taught her that there were plenty of other ways her sex could bear the brunt of a punishment, and each was painful.

“I apologize for my disobedience, Master James.” The words were the appropriate response to bad behavior. She waited for him to say something like “You won’t make that mistake again” or “You need some correction.”

Instead Master James brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I don’t ever want to hear those words from you again.”

One hand slid up to her breast, cupping the mound as he flicked the nipple with his thumb. The other settled between her legs, two fingers exploring her labia before slipping inside her pussy.

* * *

James pressed his fingers along either side of her clit, rubbing gently. Beth’s body arched, her fingers tightening in his hair as she gasped in startled pleasure.

in his gut, focusing on her. Rolling one nipple with his thumb,

his hair became painful and the muscles in her thighs were vibrating. He’d been touching her for less than two

nipple

She took a fractured breath and then started to shake, her limbs

lips of her sex with all four fingers

what was almost sobs. Part of him wanted to curl her up into a ball and hold her, but he kept her spread and open before him, hoping the physical openness would

her torso, thighs, and arms, taking possession of her bare flesh with his touch. When her breath returned to normal, he

shifted from a place of pleasure to awareness. She relaxed her hold on his hair, lifting her hands away from his scalp so her palms were only a light pressure on his head,

her into a sitting positing, then helped her

on his face. He

happened was a submissive managed

real submissive. She’d been begging Xavier for the kind of domination no one would have imagined she would want, but Xavier had his own demons to wrestle with and hadn’t realized how deep Mae’s need

problem—the perfect, obedient submissive who followed every rule, obeyed every command,

doubted Mae would have submitted at that level to anyone but Xavier—chemistry between the Dom and sub played a huge role in how intense a scene or relationship could become. But it was much

while still making them sexual objects. Some “slaves” were used in that way, as were men who enjoyed long-term chastity or cuckolding. James was a firm

alert after only a few minutes with her, which only made him angrier, because that was the last thing he wanted. Reminding himself once again that she didn’t need to be rescued—she needed to be made to come until she couldn’t remember the word “rules”—let alone

puzzle, and though he still couldn’t see how they fit together, he intended to figure it out before he let her go Sunday night. He intended to make her submit, truly

the

of amusement at that thought helped him put aside his