His gentleness astonished her. Her lips burned from that kiss, seared with the branding of his mouth on hers. He sat on her belly, looking down at her. In the semi-darkness, his intense eyes were hidden.
She frowned. She may be many things, but innocent was not one of them. Opening her lips to protest, he once more laid his finger upon them, shushing her.
He slid off of her, and ran his hands up and down the length of her. The touch was light, almost tickling. She watched his hands moving across her skin, down her legs, touching her toes, then up her inner thigh. Oh, how she wanted his touch at that sensitive junction! His hand cupped her, just for a moment, then moved up, over her soft belly, around her belly button, until he cupped her throat.
“You are so vulnerable, yet you don’t see it. Not just because of these,” and he tugged gently on the ropes that held her right wrist. “But because of here,” and he tapped her forehead. For a moment, his hand squeezed around her throat.
“The balance of pain and pleasure is a constantly moving point. And there will come a time when your pain will outweigh your pleasure, which will enhance mine. Has any of your studying prepared you for that?”
He paused a moment, looking down at her with a ferocity that thrilled her, even as it frightened.
“No,” he answered his own question. “Some things must be experienced to be explained. So we go, into the darkness, together. If you need this to stop…at any time…your safeword will protect you. I will hurt you, hurt you and take great pleasure from your cries, your screams, the marks I leave upon you. But if the line of toleration is crossed, and you truly can bear no more, your safeword ends it, and you will be released. You must choose the word, Emily. One that you will remember in the throes of passion, and the depths of pain.”
The word slipped out from her. She had been thinking about safewords. Her reading had taught her that while some didn’t play with one, most D/s couples did. It would be her only “out” from being hurt more than she could bear. All she had read had spoken about the release of pain, the blending of pain and pleasure, the heady cocktail of it served by a Dom, and the joy of ‘subspace’ but she hadn’t understood it. She knew now that she would, by the end of this. And ‘pepper’ had come to her mind again and again…a stimulant, a piquant flavoring, heat, and bite …for her it symbolized what she knew of the D/s experience.
“pepper,” she spoke again. “And…do I call you Sir?”
“Yes, Emily. Pepper, and Sir. And now, you will lose your identity, and become my slut. You will answer to slut, to cunt, to whore, to fucktoy…or any title that I choose to give you in the moment. But Emily will be gone until you take your leave of me. Understood?”
She nodded, solemnly. It was one thing to read about this, those dirty names being applied to a girl…and it was another thing entirely to hear them used as her name. It gave her a quiet tickle in her tummy, a cross between nerves, and thrill. She felt…like the time she’d gone up in the Ferris Wheel when she was 12. Brave enough to attempt it on her own, despite her fear of heights. Going up had been a thrill ride, but the quaking fear when she was all the way up had made her belly quiver. That experience had been a curious blend of fear, and powerlessness, and the thrill of doing something she’d never dreamed she’d be brave enough to attempt.
This felt exactly like that.
His hand traced whorls around her right tit, around and around. She felt dizzy, watching it. She wanted his touch on her nipple. She wanted to be fucked. She, who had never delayed gratification of her sexual needs, was submitting even that to this man. It was a multi-layered puzzle, this submission thing. It was more than just letting him tie her up. It was more than just agreeing to his demands at any given moment.
It was giving him virtually everything.
For a moment, she wondered at that. At this moment, he could do anything to her. He could beat her sensually, or he could beat her senseless. He could use her violently, call in an army of friends to share her with, sell her into slavery, or kill her. She’d protest any of that, naturally, but it all boiled down to trusting that this man, this Dominant man, would use her for their mutual pleasure.
Yes…exactly that…. trust.
It took a lot of faith to believe him, that his words would honor his intentions. At this point she could only go by his reputation. Thus far, no rumors of anything untoward had ever carried through the halls of Boisvert, Stein, and Lichen about him. That sort of thing would, wouldn’t it?
For a moment, just a sliver of time, a bolt of fear stiffened her. He could kill her. Maim her. Harm her. What the fuck was she doing here? Yet his hand continued to make slow, lazy circles around her breast, and she felt herself gentled by that touch. She relaxed, with every circle he traced on her skin, until she found her place of peace.
His eyes stayed steady on her face, as if watching all the emotions playing there. When at last her heartbeat slowed from thundering panic to trembling excitement, his fingers closed around her nipple, and pinched, hard.