Chapter 57

James tugged Beth towards him, then slipped her legs over his left knee so she was entirely on his lap.

Beth put her hands on her legs, then dropped them to her sides, but that caused her to brush her fingers against his crotch. She jerked her hands up, folding them under her breasts, but that was a closed, defensive posture—inappropriate for a submissive.

Feeling frantic, she unfolded her arms, running out of ideas, when James caught her hands in his, forcing them against her legs.

“Beth, it’s clear you’re uncomfortable sitting on my lap. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know the position.”

“What position?”

“The appropriate position for lap sitting.”

“There’s isn’t one.”

Beth frowned. She knew that wasn’t right. “There’s a rule for every situation, an appropriate pose, response, or action for every possibility.”

“That is…the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Beth jerked her head around to face Master James’s bemused face.

“That’s—but that’s… BDSM is all about rules.” Beth was practically stuttering.

“No, BDSM is about power, control, and kinky sex. The rules are part of the game, not the foundation of it.”

Beth shook her head, so caught up in what he’d just said that she didn’t consider how disrespectful it was. “Training and knowing the rules are what make a good submissive.”

“The desire to submit and willingness to give up control make a good submissive.”

“No. I don’t like that.” The words were out before she could stop them. Saying what she thought, and telling the truth, were her greatest weaknesses when it came to dealing with other people, and her greatest strengths when it came to her career.

“Why not?” Master James didn’t seem angered by her response, which was unexpected, despite the fact that he’d invited her to speak freely. Usually “speak freely” was code for “I want to trap you so I can punish you.”

“The rules are why I’m here.”

He leaned his head back and the hand on her back started rubbing in small circles. “You want there to be rules—a set of rules that, as long as you follow, you know you’re being a good sub?”

“Yes. BDSM is subculture that values hierarchy and defined roles, which presuppose a set of rules which all culture members have agreed to abide by.”

His eyebrows rose and his lips twitched. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

Beth looked down, her stomach churning. She’d said the wrong thing, said something awkward, and now he was laughing at her. This was why she hated conversations.

Silence, which normally she was fine with, stretched between them, each second making her more aware of what a mess she’d made of the conversation the minute she forgot to behave like a sub.

Embarrassment prickled along her skin like an itchy shirt. Yet his hand was still rubbing small circles on her back “I should not have used the word stupid. That wasn’t right. We don’t know much about each other, though I’ve seen you participate in scenes. Clearly your training, and your preferred style of submitting, is more formal.”

She relaxed a little, the tension that held her still easing with his words. “I need the rules,” she said quietly.

“You need them?”

Beth nodded, gaze on her hands, which were held in place against her legs by his big hand. Though she was naked and he was fully clothed, she did not feel as if the nakedness was as important as it usually was. It was as if everything was secondary to their words, her nakedness a footnote to the conversation.

“To know what to do.”

“But it’s the Dom’s job, and privilege, to guide a submissive, to make sure she knows what she needs to do or not do to bring them both the greatest pleasure.”

“Pleasure…” Beth savored the word.

The hand on hers lifted, touching her chin. The pressure of his fingers guided her to look at him. She focused on his chest.

“Look at me, Beth.”

“I am, Master James,” she pointed out.

He huffed out a laugh. “Good point. I mean I want you to look me in the eye.”

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, Beth met his gaze. Master James’s eyes were hazel—green and brown and gold, all mixed together. Between one breath and the next her nakedness became much more important. Her nipples tightened and she felt herself growing wet. Embarrassment almost made her look away, but she couldn’t—she didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d commanded her to look at him, or if deep down she simply didn’t want to.

“Beth, would you be more comfortable kneeling?”

“No, Master James.”

“You want to sit on my lap.”

“Yes, Master James. I’ve watched you, with other subs. You touch them and kiss them.”

“Are those things you want?”

“Yes.”

“And you do them with other Doms?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I’m not that kind of submissive.”

“You don’t want to be.”

Beth shook her head.

“You do want to be?”

Beth nodded. The tightness was back in her chest—she couldn’t tell what Master James was thinking, what this conversation meant to him, and it made her nervous. Were her answers disobedient or rude?

Was he going to throw her down and cane her any minute now?

“The last time I saw you, Madame Cat was using you as a footstool.”

At that Beth dropped her eyes, blinking hard. “Yes, Master James.

“Do you find that kind of service particularly arousing?”

Beth had to take a second to compose herself before answering. “Being furniture is not meant to be directly arousing or pleasurable.” She was proud that her tone was neutral, her answer both truthful and appropriate.

He was silent for a moment. “Were you being punished?”

“No, Master James.”

“Is that kind of service the only way you can reach subspace?”

Beth didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t want to admit that she didn’t really understand subspace, which seemed to be an emotional state that she had yet to figure out how to reach. She shrugged helplessly, knowing she needed to answer with words, but unable to do so. Bracing for correction at her failure to answer, she was taken by surprise with his next question.

“Then why were you there?”

“Because Madame Cat enjoys having a sub serve her in that way.”

“All right. I think I understand.”

Beth was glad someone did, because this whole conversation was confusing her.

“You said you’ve watched me with other subs.”

“Yes, Master James.”

“And you like the way you see me behave with them.”

“Yes.” The word came out as a sigh of longing.

“What if I told you that my subs don’t follow rules, at least not many?”

“But how do they know what to do?”

“I tell them what I want, and—” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his breath against her neck making her shiver “—sometimes I change the rules, just because I want to, or because I think changing the rules will bring us more pleasure, make the submission sweeter.”

“Pleasure…” Beth swayed towards Master James, raising her gaze to his.

His hand on her back curled around her waist in a possessive hold, while his other hand slid into her hair, holding her head still.

“Beth, when was the last time you had an orgasm?”

“Tuesday night.”

“You were here Tuesday night?”

“No. I was at home.”

“When was the last time you came for Madame Cat?”

“Never.”

“You never had an orgasm for her?”

“I was supposed to come when I serviced her, but I never did. It was not technically disobedient because she never ordered me to come, only told me I could.”

“You weren’t able to come when you touched yourself?”

“No, I wasn’t allowed to touch myself.”

“Your last Domme assumed you were so deep in subspace that servicing her would be enough to allow you to orgasm with no physical stimulation?”

“I don’t know, Master James. Madame Cat didn’t talk to me much.”

The fingers in her hair massaged her scalp and Beth’s eyes closed in pleasure.

“Did it make you wet, watching me with other subs?”

“It made me jealous.” The confession was quiet.

“Do you think that those other women were wet, when they sat on my lap while I played with them?”

Beth could only nod.

“And you, are you wet, Beth?”