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.

that was churning in his gut, focusing on her. Rolling one nipple with his thumb, he pressed his lips to her neck, letting his breath stimulate the

muscles in her thighs were vibrating. He’d been touching her for less than two minutes, but it seemed like she was going to come. Not surprising considering that

earlobe, pinched her nipple hard,

skin revealing lean, strong muscles. She took a fractured breath 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

to force a second orgasm, 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

a ball and hold her, but he kept her spread and open before him, hoping

with his touch. When her breath returned

could tell the moment she 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, still following

sitting positing, then

a moment to let his feelings show on

away a sub’s walls to find the core of him or her—was the hardest 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 that was usually fine, especially among casual partners. The trouble came when neither Doms, nor

own demons to wrestle with and hadn’t realized how deep Mae’s need went. James had seen

submissive who followed every rule, obeyed every command, and yet no one had touched the real

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 more common that good

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

to be rescued—she needed to

intended to figure it out before he let

the first

bubble of amusement at that thought