Chapter 70

Beth sprawled on the bed beside Master James, eyes closed. One of her arms was dangling off the edge in an awkward manner that was making it impossible to fall completely asleep, but she was dozing in a post-orgasm state of bliss.

“Beth, it’s almost time to go.”

“Hmm?”

Strong arms pulled her against a warm chest and Beth relaxed into the embrace.

“It’s nearly six.”

That woke her up. “PM? Sunday?”

“Yes.”

Her stomach clenched. Their weekend was over. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of kinky sex, the feather duster giving way to a good long fuck with her bent over the table, followed by dinner in the dining room, while she wore cuffs and nipple clamps, a one-foot-long chain connecting each cuff to the corresponding clamp, which made eating an adventure and ensured that by the time they were done, her well-stimulated nipples had her so desperate for release that she’d literally jumped on James the instant they entered their room.

But it wasn’t their room, it was a playroom—and one they’d be leaving shortly.

Today they’d taken it easy—the focus on getting Beth to express what she wanted in a way that fit with her rule-based view of BDSM. Master James had convinced her that she could still use the rules as a guide, but that wiggling her hips while standing in an appropriate posture was not “breaking the rules”

but rather letting a Dom know that she was feeling sexy or playful.

Lunch had been memorable—she’d spent it cuffed wrist and ankle to a straight-backed chair on the stage in the courtyard. A straight-backed chair with the head of a wand vibrator mounted in the seat.

James had used heavy chain in an X pattern to bind her upper body to the chair, the weight and pressure of the chains reminiscent of the feelings she’d gotten from the corset.

The restraints gave her enough space that she could move her hips, increasing and decreasing the vibration against her clit by sliding forward and back. After greedily coming three times in the first half hour, Beth had backed off, but found the audience that had gathered to watch her while they ate kept her aroused. Soon she was wiggling her hips forward, grinding her clit against the vibrator.

It was far from the first time she’d been put on display, but it was the first time she’d been putting on a show.

She’d spent nearly two hours strapped to the chair, and towards the end she begged Master James for more. He’d added heavy clover clamps on her nipples, then placed the short connecting chain in her mouth, allowing her to tilt her chin and increase the pinch on her sensitive buds.

Master James had finally called a halt, though Beth had been half-mad from all the orgasms by that point and protested. She’d sucked his cock before he finally tumbled her onto the bed for a long fuck that was both intimate and rough. Her pussy felt vaguely bruised from all the time she’d spent smashing it against a vibrator.

“How are you feeling?”

“Battered.” It was the truth, but when he rolled her over and frowned down at her, Beth smiled. “It’s a nice kind of battered.”

He nodded once, but didn’t smile back. “Good.” He rolled off the bed and stretched. “Would you prefer to shower here or in the Subs’ Garden?”

Beth sat up, struggling to figure out the sudden shift in his mood. Had she said something wrong? What was going on, and what did that nauseous sensation in her stomach signify?

“I don’t have a preference.”

“Then I’m going to jump under the shower here.” He walked towards the bathroom door.

“James, wait.”

He turned, both eyebrows raised in surprise. It was the first time she’d failed to address him as Master.

“Is this…are we done?”

His gaze searched her face. “What are you asking?”

The past forty-eight hours had been the most sexually satisfying of her life, and more than that, she was comfortable with him in a way she’d never been with anyone—in the scene or in vanilla life. The feeling that was making her stomach churn was fear. Fear of losing him.

“You said I was yours until Sunday.”

“Yes.”

Why was he being so distant, why was he making this hard on her?

Well, the one thing she wouldn’t forget, wouldn’t go back to, was staying quiet about what she wanted.

She pulled the sheet up over her chest, needing the courage that came with not being exposed. “We’re not done with our checklist.”

Finally, he smiled. “We’re not?”

“No.”

“And what do you think we missed?”

“Several things, actually, but there’s one I want.” It felt good to state her desires so simply.

“And what do you want?”

“A collar.” Beth smiled. Collar was on their list, and if he collared her they would play together every time they were at the club. She’d hadn’t been the kind of sub he favored on Friday afternoon, but he’d showed her that she actually enjoyed submitting to someone like him far more than she enjoyed submitting to a stricter Master. They made a good pair, and she was sure that he was as aware of it as she was.

James’s smile disappeared.

Beth knew how inappropriate it was for a sub to ask to be collared, knew that even beyond that it was crazy of her to ask this after only a weekend together, but she knew what she wanted. She wasn’t going to risk spending any more time dissatisfied because she didn’t break this one rule and ask for what she wanted.

When James said nothing Beth tried to explain, to make him understand why she was asking this.

“Submitting to you is unlike anything of my other experiences. I came to BDSM for the rules, but you showed me that they’re not the important part. That I can be a good sub, that I can be comfortable and not worry if I’m acting the right way even without them. I trust you. I know it’s only been one weekend, but I know what I want.”

It was her first ever heartfelt speech, and Beth was rather proud of it. Maybe it wasn’t the sort of thing that would ever end up in a Hollywood movie, but she’d been honest and said exactly what she wanted to say. The fear that had made her feel sick was gone, replaced by a lightness she identified as hope.

“No.”

And just like that the sick feeling was back, but now it wasn’t fear. It was a slimy ball of emotions she couldn’t fully name.

Beth looked down at the white sheet, tears making everything blurry. She touched her face. She never cried.

“You asked about my hard limits. Well, that’s one of them.”

Without another word he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Beth slipped from the bed, pulled on the long white robe, and left.

An hour later Beth stepped out of the showers in the Subs’ Garden. The locker room was precisely that —with large wooden lockers the subs could store their things in, but the room was plush, with fresh flowers on the marble counters and delicate padded dressing chairs eliminating any possibility of a gym feel.

Dropping the towel in the bin by the door, she made her way through the smattering of other subs to her assigned locker. There was an envelope taped to the front.

Ripping it off, she pulled out the single sheet of paper. It was a copy of her checklist, the page that included the letter C items. Retreating to one of the chairs, Beth dropped down and looked at the list.

Cages, chains, chastity belts, chores, clothespins, clamps, cock worship, corset, and cuffs all had checkmarks beside them. Lines were drawn through cattle prod, cells, collars, and cock rings—they must be James’s hard limits. The only items that were neither crossed off nor checked were choking and caning.

Beth stared at the two unmarked items. This must have come from him, but there were no directions, no indication of what he was trying to say.

Folding the list, she got dressed, then tucked the paper into her purse. There was only one logical conclusion. James was telling her that they weren’t done, that there were two items on their list they’d have to address.

Funny, but right now that didn’t arouse her. It pissed her off.