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.

was churning in his gut, focusing on her. Rolling one nipple with his thumb, he pressed his

in her thighs were vibrating. He’d been touching her for less than two minutes, but it seemed like she was

nipple hard, and rubbed her

body tensed like an archer’s bow, the sleek lines of her gold-toned skin revealing lean, strong muscles. She took a fractured breath and then started to shake, her limbs trying to curl in,

lips of her sex with all four fingers so he could feel the orgasm. He could have entered her, let her body clench around him, but he would save penetration for

what was almost sobs. Part of him wanted to curl her up into a ball and

touch. When her breath returned to normal,

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

sitting

moment to let his feelings show on his face. He could cheerfully horsewhip

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

out Mae’s 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 went. James had seen what neither of them could after watching the

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

and sub played a huge role in how intense a scene or relationship could become. But it was much more common that good chemistry

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 believer in live and let live, though he had no interest in those styles of kink, nor it seemed did Beth, despite the

knight in shining armor instinct he had was on 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

still couldn’t see how they fit together, he intended

the

amusement at that thought helped him put aside