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.

forced aside the rage that was churning in his gut, focusing on her. Rolling one nipple with his thumb, he pressed his lips to her

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

her nipple hard, and rubbed her clit with firm,

lines of her gold-toned skin revealing lean, strong muscles. She took a fractured breath and then started to shake, her limbs trying

but did press the heel of his hand against her clit, spreading the lips of her sex with all four fingers so he could feel the orgasm. He could have entered her, let her body clench around

her up into a ball and hold her, but he kept her spread and open before him, hoping the physical openness would help

touch. When her breath returned to normal, he took his hand from

relaxed her hold on his hair, lifting her hands away from his scalp so her palms were only a

her into a sitting positing, then

to let his feelings show on his face. He could cheerfully horsewhip Cat—and every other Dom who’d ever used

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

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

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

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

their sexual needs 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 believer in live and let live, though he had

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 what they might be. James promised himself that he wouldn’t get emotionally involved beyond investing the

gathering pieces of the Beth puzzle, and though he still couldn’t see how they fit together, he intended to figure it out before he

for the

that thought helped him put