~SIN 4~
"Congratulations. You lived through the checklist review."
"Yes, and I only consumed half the mini-bar in the process," he retorts, though she only offered him one beer. She is pleased to see him a bit more relaxed, though he does look a bit like he's just been through the automatic car wash—on foot. He's slumped back in his chair, one elbow perched on the chair back and the other arm flung across the table, holding his beer.
She covers his hand with hers and says, "The good news is, we're totally on the same page."
"Oh yeah?" he brightens.
"Yeah. And now I know where your stress points are."
He fidgets in his chair remembering all the most awkward bits of their conversation. He definitely has his limits but nothing that will stop them from having a fulfilling time together.
He allows himself a slight smile. "What's the bad news?"
Bella feels the familiar jolt as she initiates the scene. "Good cop is about to leave the building."
Edward feels it as well, and straightens in his chair. "Okay."
"Have you decided on your safe word?"
"Mmhmm," he nods. "Guilty."
She smiles and adds, "As sin."
"That's the best kind," he smirks.
"I want you to go into the bathroom, remove your socks and shoes, and wait for me to call for you. When you come back out here, you'll refer to me as Mistress, and I'll give you the rest of the instructions when you need them. Any last-minute questions? Second thoughts?"
"Yes, actually. Last time we were together, you told me if I stopped you or failed to cooperate, you'd leave and not come back. Is that what happens if I safeword today?"
"Absolutely not, and great question; I'm sorry I didn't clarify earlier. It stops the scene cold, and we'll talk. Please do not hesitate to use it if you're uncomfortable. This all takes a little getting used to."
"All right."
They both stand, and there is an awkward moment where Bella feels strongly compelled to touch him again, but she doesn't act on it.
"Feel free to freshen up while you're in there."
"Okay."
Holding his eyes in hers, she adds, "I don't need to tell you not to touch yourself, do I?"
A bright pink spot appears on each of his cheeks. "No, ma'am."
Something shifts inside her, another marker that this one is different. Somehow, "Mistress" no longer feels adequate.
The self-imposed break is as much about getting into her leathers as it is about separating their before and after roles, not that she could begin to characterize their out-of-scene association without diminishing it. With a crisp zip up the front of the body-hugging mini-dress, she's ready; garters are clipped, heels are buckled, riding crop is looped around her wrist. She clears her throat to ensure her first command is delivered without the waver she caught earlier in her voice.
"Come, pet."
The bathroom door opens immediately, and there stands her delicious play partner. His version of "freshening" included rolling up his sleeves and loosening a couple more buttons, and she approves wholeheartedly. Her eyes click lower, taking in the gleaming belt buckle and the undeniable swell just below. She's pleased to see a set of well-tended bare feet below the dark denim hem, just that slight reveal of his bare skin inflaming her desire.
"You can look at me, Edward," she tells him, sensing his conflict and his need. He drinks her in from head to toe, but she doesn't mind being desired, not by him. His gaze stops noticeably on the crop, and she teases him by sliding it through the fingers of her other hand. His eyes widen; her deer is caught in the headlights for a brief moment. Her desire to control him is met with a powerful competing force—the need to care for him—and the two seemingly contradictory energies spiral and battle and grow.
"I changed my mind," she starts, realizing only when he frowns how her words must have sounded. Quickly she continues, "You're to call me 'ma'am,' not 'Mistress.'"
His lips tease up at the corners, not only in relief, but also with the understanding that it was his use of the title that changed her mind. "Yes, ma'am," he answers more than happily.
"Clasp your hands behind your back...good...yes, relax your shoulders...open your feet a bit wider...perfect. You'll stand just like this unless I command otherwise," she advises, punctuating her instructions with soft taps of the crop on his hands, shoulders, and ankles.
She steps right up and presses her face so close to his, she can feel his shortened breaths on her nose. "What am I gonna do with these eyes?" He swallows thickly while his eyes dart about, completely confused about whether to look at her or look away.
"If I tell you to lower them—which I should, by all rights—I'm depriving myself of your most expressive response." Not to mention their utter brilliance and the intensity of your stare.
She lifts the tip of the crop to his chin and teases him with it. "You know the expression, 'This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you?'"
"Yes, ma'am," he quivers.
"Take one last look, pet." She steps away and even spins around for him before pulling a black silk scarf from her bag. "Now, close." Her hand brushes down his forehead and glides over his eyes, nose, and mouth, lingering over his lips for longer than necessary. He holds his position admirably while she steps behind him and works the silk over his eyes, behind his head, doubles back around and ties it off in a tight knot against his hair. She chose this scarf more for the tactile effect of the sensual silk than for its ability to totally block his vision. He might see shadows if he cheated, but that would be okay if he needed it.
She steps away and allows the crop to do her teasing: over the fine contours of his face, down the valley of his throat, into the opening of his shirt and further than his open buttons invited, then soft taps over his jeans, across his thighs, around his shoulders, down his back, into his open palm, over the tight mounds of his ass.
"Take off your shirt," she orders. His fingers tremble over the buttons as he rushes to comply. He yanks it free of the belt and shrugs it off his back. She awards him a giant mental Attaboy! as his hands immediately find each other behind his back again.
It's lousy form to ogle one's sub, so the blindfold provides nice cover while depriving her submissive of his sight. She longs to run her fingers over the ripples of his tapered waist, feel his broad shoulders under her slight hands. Instead, she holds herself at a safe distance and lets the crop do her caressing while she works on his headspace.
"You and I met under some unusual circumstances..."
His mouth opens slightly with each unexpected tap. God, how she wants to taste those lips. She'd never imagined the level of self-discipline involved in domming before she began practicing.
"I deprived you of the niceties of your first time submitting."
Edward considers his answers. "I don't recall feeling deprived in any way, ma'am."
Bella awards him a rap on each nipple, and he sucks in a sharp gasp of air with the second. Closing in and placing her lips next to his ear, Bella says, "Spoken like a submissive who has no idea what he's missing."
She's rewarded by his shaky exhale, followed by a dutiful, "Yes, ma'am."
A/N: But he's about to find out! ;) What do you think...Guilty or Boggle? Is this guy gonna make it through the scene? The nipple raps almost killed the poor thing! What about Dommella? There's a whole lotta tension going on!
Apologies to those of you looking forward to hearing his checklist. Where's the mystery in that? *wink*
LOVING your responses. Thanks so much for sharing them with me. I'll be away for most of this week, but I'll do my best to reply to your reviews when I can. Please know I read and enjoy each one, and my heart is warmed that you're all feeling these characters.
See you next week for more "niceties"! XXX ~BOH