F is for…: BDSM Checklist, Book Six Page 3

  “Lovely. Well done.” He picked up the checklists. “Now for our items.”

  Chapter 3

  Katrina settled into the familiar position—knees spread, hands palm up on her legs, head up but eyes lowered. She’d danced fairly seriously all through college, and had found when she returned to the barre her body still remembered some of the motions. While she wasn’t as graceful when she sank into a plie as she had been when she’d been a teenage ballerina, her muscles still knew how to move.

  She had that same feeling now—this was familiar. That was both a blessing and a curse. Even as she kept her breathing slow and even, her shoulders back and knees spread, offering her body for his viewing pleasure and eventually his touch, she remembered a time when kneeling had symbolized everything that was wrong with her relationship, and had made her feel like a doormat instead of a treasure.

  Dante whistled and chuckled lightly. “We have our work cut out for us.”

  His gentle humor pushed back the tension that was crowding her. She looked at him under her lashes. Dante Jones was a slender black man, with the long, lean muscles of a runner or cyclist. His forearms were displayed by his pale blue polo and particularly attractive—she wanted to lick her way from his elbow to his hand and then suck his fingers into her mouth. His hair was cropped close to his head, his eyes rimmed with dense curly lashes. There were laugh lines around his eyes.

  He wore jeans and black sneakers that looked cool and expensive. Dante was casual, calm, and cool. He didn’t need a dress shirt and shiny shoes to look commanding.

  If he hadn’t ordered her to turn her palms up in that dark commanding voice, she would have thought he’d be an easy Dom to submit to. BDSM relationships should be about more than physical appearance, but there was no denying that a strong muscular Dom with cool eyes and a commanding voice was easier to submit to.

  But that’s what she’d had, and in the end, that’s whom she hadn’t been able to submit too. Looking at Dante she wondered if the overseers had put them together on purpose. She’d had to explain everything about her past relationship to get in. Dante really was nothing like her ex, and that was a very, very good thing.

  “We’ll go one by one. The first item is face slapping.”

  Katrina stiffened, her teeth grinding together. It was the only way she managed to stay on her knees. She knew she marked “no” for that. If he enjoyed it, would he want to negotiate? Doms weren’t supposed to push against hard limits, but in practice there was often at the very least a discussion.

  “We both said no. I don’t abuse women.”

  Katrina unclenched her jaw. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re thanking me for not slapping you?”

  Katrina nodded once.

  “Was that something your previous master enjoyed?”

  Damned perceptive Dom. Why did dominants always have to be so nosy? She nodded again.

  He hummed and seemed to let that go. He tapped the paper against his knee before he spoke again.

  “Next is fantasy abandonment.”

  This time she stopped herself from tensing.

  “Another ‘no’ from both of us. I can’t play with your lovely body if I abandon it.” He smiled.

  She returned the smile, because it was actually a relief that something that had for her been devastating, was so easily dismissed in his reality.

  “Next is fantasy rape and fantasy gang bang.”

  Katrina waited. These were things she’d said yes to. Rape fantasy was hardly uncommon, and many subs had them, since rape was about loss of power.

  “Fantasy rape is a hard limit of mine.”

  “It is, Sir?” She found that curious.

  His voice deepened. “I have no desire to pretend to rape a woman. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m black, and raping a white woman, even in play, is something I’d never do. I will not confirm anyone’s stereotypes.”

  Katrina stared at him, shocked. “You’re a Dom, Sir. Everyone would know it was just a game.”

  “You have more faith in people than I do.”

  The tightness in his body made her think that there were things in his past that made him think this way. She’d known him less than an hour and she could tell he was funny, kind, and oh so sexy. How dare someone make this man feel like a rapist, or put him down because of the color of his skin.

  Katrina wanted to comfort him. That shocked her, because that urge to offer comfort was the core of her submission. Dante made her feel that way again.

  Not sure if he would be displeased if she moved her hands, Katrina leaned forward and laid her cheek on his knee. For a moment there was nothing and her stomach started to knot. Then rough fingers dug into her hair, squeezing until little sparks of delicious pain flared through her scalp. Katrina held her position, and gradually his fingers relaxed.

  He released his hold, petting her hair instead. The cracked, rough skin of his hands caught on her hair, but she didn’t mind. She wondered what he did that he had such rough hands. She would have to do some research and find the best hand cream. She could rub it into his skin as she knelt before him.

  You’re not his girlfriend or his wife. You’re his one-weekend-only sub.

  Katrina closed her eyes, keeping that thought at the front of her mind. This was going to be hard.

  “Thank you, Katrina. That was surprisingly comforting.”

  Katrina eased back, both because his words implied she should and because for her own mental health it was better.

  “It’s my honor and my duty as your sub, Sir.”

  He half grunted, half moaned. “I want to fuck you until you’re out of control and screaming, and I want to just sit here and see what you’d do.”

  That made her smile. “I’d do my best to serve and please you, Sir.”

  “Damn it, honeypot.”

  “Honeypot, Sir?”

  “I read it in a book. Apparently, it’s a medieval word for pussy, but I think it sounds kind of cute.”

  “I’ve always wanted to have a nickname from the Dark Ages, Sir.”

  Again he cracked out a laugh. “Sassy. I like it, Katrina. Does anyone ever call you Kat?”

  “No, Sir. Well someone did, but I’d rather—”

  “Say no more. I understand. We need to get through this list. Okay, we covered fantasy rape and fantasy gang bang. Those are off the table. I’m sorry, for your sake.”

  “Please don’t be, Sir. I couldn’t enjoy it if you weren’t.”

  He considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Up next is a fun one. I’ve only done this a handful of times, so I’m looking forward to it. You indicated you’re willing to try it.”

  Katrina’s nipples tightened under the corset in anticipation.

  “Figging.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you been figged before?”

  “No, Sir. I don’t have a huge amount of experience with anal play besides plugs.”

  “Did your old master keep you plugged?”

  “There was a schedule, Sir.”

  “And would you be willing to tell me this schedule?”

  “At night I wore a small jeweled plug. In the morning I had to beg to have it removed, and he would remove it only after I pleasured him. Then at noon I would record myself inserting a larger glass plug, which I wore for half an hour. In the evening he would text me and let me know if he wanted me plugged when he came home.”

  “And did you enjoy this?”

  “I did, Sir. Until I didn’t.”

  “That’s a fair answer, so I won’t pry. I will be figging you. It’s something I’d like to do again, and I want to see you squirm.”

  She shivered. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Next up is fisting.”

  Oh. Right. Fisting.

  “You indicated that you were willing to try both vaginal and anal fisting. I am not interested in anal fisting. Vaginal fisting is…” He stopped to laugh. “You could say it’s something of a hobby.”

  “Si
r, I don’t think I understand.”

  “I’m making a stupid joke, I’ll explain it later. There’s fire play, but I’m not particularly interested in that, and neither are you. We both said willing to try, but with so many other items on our list, we’re going to skip it.

  “Here’s an easy one. Following orders. Why is that even on this list?”

  He raised both brows and paused, seeming to invite her comment. Katrina tipped her head to the side. “I wonder if any subs have ever marked ‘no.’ If a Dom marks yes, does that automatically make them a switch?”

  “Now we’re asking the important questions. I’ll get us magnifying glasses and we’ll investigate.”

  Katrina laughed, an easy sound. She liked Dante. Truly liked him.

  “Here’s a good one. Flogging. That was a yes from both of us.”

  Katrina sighed in relief. She wanted to feel the thud of a flogger against her back and ass. Another thing she’d missed.

  “Foot worship—I’ll kiss your pretty feet when I’m down there binding your ankles, but nothing more than that, I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, Sir.”

  “Now we come to the forceds.”

  “Forced, Sir?”

  “No, forceds—with an “s”. It’s plural. There are quite a few forced items. Most of these are more geared towards male subs. There’s only one we were both interested in.”

  “And which one is that, Sir?”

  “First I’ll tell you the others. Forced bedwetting—no, I like the cleaning staff here too much for that. Forced dressing—I’d probably dress you in something less sexy than you’d pick yourself, so I’d lose there. Forced eating is a bit of a gray area for me. At meals I may feed you by hand while you’re on my lap, or have you sit on the floor. However, I would never force you to eat anything you dislike or are allergic to. Unless you make food choices like a two-year-old.”

  Katrina jumped slightly. Dante sighed. “Do you only eat crackers and fruit? Why won’t subs eat vegetables or meat?”

  “I am a vegetarian, Sir.”

  “I can handle that. And in this case if you had indicated forced eating, it would be my right to force you to eat, even if I broke your vegetarian diet.” His voice was hard, the humor and teasing gone. There was the Dom. She wondered if the Dom was a front for the gentler side of him, or if he used that gentleness to mask his dominant core.

  Katrina dipped her head in a slight bow. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  A little ripple of pleasure skipped down her back. Being praised by a Dom was foreplay for her. She checked the urge to spread her legs wider, in an invitation—no, a plea—for him to reach down and feel how wet she was.

  “There are a few more forceds—forced homosexuality, forced heterosexuality. Those are both ‘no’s for me, as I don’t really like to share, though I have no problem using other subs as tools if I need an extra hand or pair of lips.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “You don’t have a problem being touched by another woman?”

  “No, Sir, or other men.”

  “I won’t let another man touch you. I’m not the kind of Dom who likes to share. You’re mine.”

  The way he growled the word “mine” made her breath catch.

  “Did that arouse you, Katrina?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You want to be possessed.”

  She shivered, her nipples hard and tight inside the corset, and her pussy now so wet that even a small brush of air felt like a cool caress. “Yes, Sir. I…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I need it, Sir.”

  “To be possessed?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Oh? What were you referring to?”

  Katrina squeezed her eyes shut. “Sir, I…I want it, but I also don’t want it.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  There was a hint of anger in his voice and she instinctively spread her legs a bit wider—a sub’s instinctive placating gesture. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “I don’t want an apology, I want you to explain.”

  “I wish that I could, Sir. I truly do. But I don’t understand yet.”

  She hoped that would be enough. He was kind. He might let it go.

  Kind and funny as he was, he was still a Dom. He said nothing, waiting for her to answer to his satisfaction.

  She didn’t want to spill her sad, sordid tale. She didn’t want him to see her that way, though she knew he’d probably get it out of her. But for now she would do her best to explain.

  “The first time you said it, and used the word ‘mine’ I found it arousing, but then you said it a second time and a third time, and something triggered in me. I belonged to my ex—I truly was his, and for a while that was exactly what we both wanted, and needed. I changed, and couldn’t be his in that way. It ended our relationship.”

  “But now you want to be possessed again.”

  “I want to feel safe. I want to feel a man’s hands on me. I want to let go of everything, if only for a little while.”

  Dante’s rough hands cradled her head, and he leaned down, until their noses almost touched. He held her gaze. “Thank you, Katrina, for being honest with me.”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense—” She dropped her eyes.

  He cut her off. “It does make sense. Just because you need something doesn’t mean you accept it in every form, or from every person.”

  Katrina raised her gaze to his, and held it. Instinct—both a very human instinct to avoid the intimacy of a shared gaze, and a submissive’s instinct to keep eyes respectfully down warred within her.

  But Katrina was strong. She’d learned to be strong.

  His eyes, which had seemed so dark, were actually a warm golden brown. His face was calm, his gaze steady. Katrina wasn’t sure what they were doing. She should lower her gaze, but some perverse part of her wanted to show him that he had no real power over her, that she could hold her own.

  He dragged his knuckle down her cheek. “Let me in, sweet Katrina.”

  Something inside her gave way and she sagged, letting her head rest in his hand.

  “I don’t know why I’m fighting you, Sir.”

  “You don’t have to know. Trust that if you need to fight me, I’ll let you fight, but I won’t let you win.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because I’m a mess.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried not to blink.

  “You’re not a mess, Katrina.”

  “I feel like a mess.”

  Dante grabbed her by the waist and proved that those lean muscles were very strong. He lifted her into his lap.

  “Everyone is a little bit of a mess, Katrina.”

  “I know, but I’m—”

  “Everyone. Some people fake it better than others.”

  She sighed and buried her head against his neck. He let her hide against him. He stroked her shoulder and leg, first using his knuckles. She shivered and then shivered again when he started using his palms. His hands weren’t smooth. He worked and she could feel the calluses brushing along her flesh. The touches lengthened, until he was running his hand from her calf to her hip. Her blood started to heat. Her arousal had been waxing and waning since she’d come into the room, but the submissive position over his lap, combined with the insistent but comforting press of his fingers was raising her arousal to the point of no return.

  Katrina raised her head. “Sir, I’m…I’m…”

  “What?”

  “I’m very aroused, Sir.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sir, I’m…it’s been a long time since I was touched by a Dom. I’m not sure how much control I’ll have.”

  “An out of control Katrina. I think I want to see that.”

  “Sir, I want to be well behaved.”

  “And I want you to be honest.” His voice took on that hint of command, reminding her that it wa
s not up to her to decide how this would go.

  He nudged her hip, and she slid off his lap onto the cushion. Being put off his lap was a rebuke, but he softened it by stroking her cheek. “We’re almost done with our list, then we’ll play.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Forced masturbation, forced nudity in private, and forced nudity around others are all yeses from both of us.”

  Katrina nodded, though how he would “force” nudity when she would willingly strip if he ordered her to, she didn’t know.

  “This is my personal favorite. Can you guess what it is?” His tone was lighter and he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Katrina smiled slightly. “Fucking, Sir?”

  “Yes, fucking. You indicated you were willing. I want to make it clear that intercourse does not have to be a part of our play if you’re not comfortable with it. I’ve played with subs before without penetration sex.”

  “I would prefer it, Sir. A scene without sex, or the promise of sex later, is…unsatisfying.”

  “Do you enjoy impact-only scenes?”

  In their case, impact play meant a flogging. “I do, Sir, but in the past there was always the implied promise of additional, more intimate, play.”

  “I understand.”

  That was a relief. There were many people for whom a flogging was the perfect scene, with no need or desire for anything sexual. Katrina had been to several clubs where the only play she saw was impact play scenes. The subs would relax into the beating, and when it was over they’d be wrapped in blankets and curl up on a couch or mat on the floor, totally content.

  She needed more. Not that a well-done flogging wouldn’t drop her into the hazy world of subspace, but for Katrina, twenty minutes after the flogging, the arousal the flogging had caused would be a raging fire within her.

  “We have a rather long list. Are you here for the whole weekend?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. We may need more time. Can you come next weekend?”

  Katrina tried to think through her schedule. “Possibly, but I can’t guarantee it, Sir.”

  “We’ll deal with that on Sunday. For now, it’s time to get better acquainted.”

  Katrina lifted her gaze. Dante had his elbows braced on his knees, one hand dangling. He pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger of his right hand, bringing her attention to his lips. They were full and soft. She wanted to nip his lip with her teeth. She wanted to feel those lips on her skin.