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.

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

less than two minutes, but it seemed like she was going to come. Not surprising considering that she’d been denied pleasure for

thought, he nipped her earlobe, pinched her nipple hard, and rubbed her clit with firm, quick

and then started to shake, her limbs trying to curl in, as if to protect herself from the force of her orgasm—a force so strong he could see her

sex with all four fingers so he could feel the orgasm. He could have entered her, let her body

ball and hold her, but he kept

thighs, and arms, taking possession of her bare flesh with his touch. When her breath returned to normal, he took his hand from her pussy, wiping it against

lifting her hands away from his scalp so her palms were only a light pressure on his

her into a sitting positing, then helped

his feelings show on his

thing a Dom had to do. It took time, planning and skill, because it went against most emotional and physical protective reflexes people, especially women, had developed by the time they were adults. Usually what happened was a submissive managed to keep some of those walls in place, resulting in a sort of half-submission

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

was the opposite problem—the perfect, obedient submissive who followed every rule, obeyed every command, and yet no one had touched

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 more common that good chemistry allowed for

were men who enjoyed long-term chastity or cuckolding. James was a firm believer in live and let live, though he had no interest in those styles

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

still couldn’t see how they fit together, he intended to figure it out

the first

thought helped him put aside his