by Sionna Fox
“I know. I should have said something instead of giving you the signal. But you’re right, it’s like autopilot for both of us.”
“What if we can’t break out of it?”
“What if all we can do is notice it when it happens and point it out? And maybe that’s how you decide what things you find comforting and what things you find confining.”
“You know what’s slightly ridiculous?”
Ian sat back in his chair and toyed with his fork. “What is, kitten?”
“I make a point of throwing my clothes on the floor as I get undressed. It literally creates more work because at some point I have to pick them up and put them in the basket, but it still feels like this little piece of defiance and I can’t stop doing it.” She blushed slightly, like she was confessing to something infinitely naughtier than leaving her clothes on the floor.
“So break the rules. Find what feels good. You initiated most of them, as you’ll recall.”
“The clothes thing was all you.”
“Because it’s inefficient. But if it makes you feel good, it’s your laundry.” His skin itched thinking about it, but if it made her happy to feel a little rebellious in her own damn apartment, so be it.
Kate laughed. “You should see your face right now. You hate that idea.”
“Fine, yes, I do.” He took a deep breath. He’d be fine with doing away with most of the rules they’d made, and he didn’t care much about enforcing protocol, not if it meant they had this, this gentle teasing and laughing over dinner, this closeness they had lost. “But maybe we need to rebel.”
“Maybe we do. Let’s be rebels.” She grinned at him, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face in return. Let’s. We. They were doing this. They could do this.
“Last night you said you weren’t ready to be together again. Is that still true?”
She picked up her fork and took a bite. “This is delicious.”
“Kate, answer the question.”
“I’m not ready for everyone to know. But I want to try to be with you. For real.”
“What changed?”
She made a face, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I talked to Jolene.”
“You didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I know. But she guessed. I didn’t confirm or deny, but…who else would I be having conflicting feelings about?”
“I’m glad you talked to her if it helped.”
She sighed. “It did. I needed someone who’s been in sort of the same position to tell me I wasn’t making a huge mistake.”
Ian picked up her free hand and kissed her palm. “Is that what you’re most afraid of?”
“Of course. But she said the only thing that will keep us from falling into the same rut is to never shut up about it. And you seem on board with that idea, so…”
“We both know that’s easier said than done.”
“She also suggested doing it naked and after sex.”
Ian laughed. “That does make it easier to accept criticism, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s the first new rule, serious relationship conversations take place naked and post-coital.”
She held up her fork. “If we’re not spaced out from a scene.”
“An important caveat, yes. Neither of us should be held to decisions made or opinions given immediately after a scene.”
“Definitely not. New old rule, you’re not allowed to take anything I say when sex-drunk seriously.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, kitten.” He squeezed her hand again. This wasn’t so hard. This could even be fun. Starting over, learning each other again. And if he could figure out who to be for her, he could figure out who to be all the time. He could do this.
She grinned at him. “So, what are we doing tonight?”
“How far back to the beginning do you want to go? Do we start at square one and fill out checklists?” Everyone’s boundaries could shift and change over time, and he would respect her decision to rescind—temporarily or entirely—some of the things that used to be on her yes list. Getting a completely new checklist could mean hours of discussion of gradations between enthusiastic yes, cautious maybe, and absolutely not.
“Are your limits still the same?”
“Yes.” He had his own lines in the sand, things that if she wanted to experience them, he would happily find her someone competent to experiment with, but wouldn’t do himself.
“So are mine, as far as I can tell.” She bit her lip.
“But?”
“No surprises. I want to be able to say yes or no to everything right now.”
“That’s fair. No surprises.”
“So what did you have in mind before I came over?”
“That all depended on if you were prepared to stay or not. I can’t in good conscience send you home if you’re still out somewhere in subspace. But if I can keep you until morning, that’s a whole other proposition.” He knew exactly what he would ask of her in either case, but he hoped she would spend the night, not only for what it would allow him to do to her, but for the comfort of having her there next to him.
“Well, I did bring a bag, just in case. Make your pitch, Sir.”
* * *
Ian calmly took another bite of his dinner, chewed slowly, and rested his fork on his plate before responding. “If I have the option of keeping you tied to the bed all night, don’t you think I’d use it?”
Kate almost whimpered, her belly clenching reflexively. Yes, yes he would exercise that option given the chance, and she would squirm at being held open and vulnerable, but he’d reward her handsomely for it. This was exactly what she needed after the day she’d had. Clean, simple, to the point. She could answer these questions. She swallowed. “I don’t see why you would do anything else, given the opportunity.”
“I’m glad you understand, kitten.”
“Then what would you do?”
“If I had you spread open in four-point restraints?” He chewed and swallowed another bite of food.
She did whimper. She’d missed this back and forth, the ratcheting up of the tension between them, her impatience butting heads with his calm demeanor. But she’d bet anything he was plenty ruffled behind the zipper of his jeans.
“What would you want, kitten? Would you want it to hurt? Would you want me to be gentle? Would you want me to make you come again and again, every time convinced you didn’t have another one in you? Would you want me to put clamps all over your body? To hold your cunt open to me while I fucked you with my hands or my mouth or my cock, all glistening and pink because you secretly fucking love being exposed like that? Would I loosen the restraints on your ankles so I could press your knees to your chest and fuck your ass? Beat your thighs pink with a flogger? Leave a nice row of stripes with a cane? What do you want, kitten?” He rattled off the list of possibilities with absolute calm, like he was listing restaurants they could go to for dinner.
Kate squirmed in her chair, feeling the ghost of each possibility in her skin, in her belly, against the backs of her thighs. She wanted it all. Wanted it to hurt. “Can I say everything?”
He laughed, diffusing some of the tension in the room. “You can, greedy girl. But you’ll still have to choose.”
She’d never given scene planning enough credit as foreplay. She’d never wanted to make the boring decisions about who did what to whom. She’d wanted to be surprised, be a vessel for whatever he desired. She hadn’t considered the possibilities inherent in talking dirty over dinner.
“Okay. I can narrow this down. Am I cuffed and helpless on my back or my stomach?”
“Hmm. I’m imagining you on your back. I’ll want to be able to get at your tits.”
She shifted in her chair again. “Right. In that case, clamps, definitely.”
“And where will I put these clamps, kitten? ‘Wherever you want’ is not an acceptable answer.”
He took the words out of her mouth. “Fine.” She rubbed her thighs together under the table, which did
nothing to relieve the ache between her legs. “Boobs. And not just my nipples either.”
“Of course not. It would be a waste not to make use of the rest of that canvas. Anywhere else?”
She bit her lip. How could he be so calm and keep eating through this discussion? She was practically sitting on her hands to keep from running her fingers over the crotch of her pants. But then, this was one of the things she’d always liked about him, wasn’t it? “I always liked them around my hips. And there is something to be said for the idea of my pussy being held open for you.”
He closed his eyes and hummed, something finally getting past that impassive air. “Isn’t there? This is a lovely image you’re painting for me. What’s next?”
With a shaky breath, she ran her hands through her hair, ruffling it back and forth over her skull. “Right. I’m on my back, clamped and clothespinned within an inch of my life.”
“Yes. What happens then?”
“And you’re free to tease me or fuck me.”
“Frankly, I think at that point I’m going to very much want to fuck you.”
“Good, me too. You should use your mouth first.”
He raised an eyebrow? “Should I?”
“Definitely.” If she closed her eyes, she could feel it. The rasp of his stubble against her thighs, the way he’d flick the tip of his tongue over her hopelessly exposed clit before sliding it inside her. “You can keep your fingers busy by twisting the clamps on my tits.”
“What about playing with your ass?”
She could practically feel that too. His tongue on her pussy while slippery fingers teased her tight, sensitive pucker. “Yes.”
“Am I going to fuck your ass, kitten? Plug it? Or only tease it?”
Her breath hitched. “You’ll work me open and fuck me.”
He hummed low in his throat, and she noticed the white-knuckled grip he had on his fork, though he was as straight-faced as ever. “You know I’ll take care of you, kitten. And you can always change your mind if it’s too much.”
“I know.”
“So I’ll slowly work you open with my fingers, then my cock. What happens then?”
Kate slumped in her chair, damp and throbbing from talking about it, thinking about all the ways he could take her, tease her, possess her. “I can’t think past that.” She rubbed her thighs together again. “I’ll probably come. You’ll get your cock inside me, then we’ll both have orgasms and sleep for a week. The end.”
He laughed and stood up from the table, his hard cock a visible ridge in his pants. “Your ending could use some work. Come on, up you get, the faster you help me clean up, the sooner you’ll be cuffed, clamped, and fucked, the end.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Twelve
Ian needed the distraction of cleaning up to pull himself together. He’d been close to bending her over the table, yanking her pants down and fucking her right then and there. To give her the scene they both wanted, he had to stay in control. She might not want him to be her Master, but she still wanted him to be in charge. He knew how to give that much to her, to stretch out her anticipation and calm his own nerves.
Once they’d washed and dried the pots and pans and set the dishwasher to run, he sent her upstairs ahead of him and asked her to wait. He leaned back against the refrigerator door and counted to ten once he heard her footsteps stop above him. Then he followed her upstairs.
She was waiting at the end of the bed, still on her feet, fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. She’d curbed herself of the impulse to get on her knees. That was good. If he’d found her naked and kneeling, they’d have to talk about it, start over again, and the limits of his control were stretched taut. She looked at him, shifting on her feet, cheeks flushed. He could have her on her back in two seconds flat, but they still had a few things to address.
“I think we’re forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Sit, please.” He sat and patted the spot next to him. She plopped down and started to cross her arms, confusion and annoyance flashing on her face, but he took her hand. “I know what you want to do, but I don’t know how. Is this fun and games, or are you exorcising some demons? I need to know what role you want me to play. What role you want to play? Do you need to struggle? Or are you going to take this like a pig in mud?”
“I was pretty much planning to lie back and enjoy it. I mean, you know I can’t hold still, but I’m not planning to struggle.”
He smiled softly. No, she used to torture herself trying to hold still. He’d never actually cared unless it was necessary to keep her safe. He liked watching her squirm. “Good. How do you want me, Kate?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Am I your cold, detached Master or are we friends having a good time?”
She chewed the inside of her lip. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. And I need you to tell me.”
“I want…like this. Like at dinner. You can rattle off a list of things you want to do to me and look completely unbothered and in control.”
“But you know I’m not. You made all the choices back there.”
“I know. And that was…really fucking hot. That you made me ask for what I wanted. But you were still in charge. I still need that.”
“And I will be. But you know there are different ways to do that. A kindergarten teacher can be as much in charge as a drill sergeant.” He didn’t especially want to be either of those things. He’d never had a thing for littles, and he definitely had never been interested in yelling. Berating and humiliating partners was one of his lines in the sand. He wouldn’t put on the role of bully for anyone.
“Can we… I feel like we’re being ourselves and that’s working? It has been, right?”
He almost laughed. Ourselves. Who the fuck was his self? But he understood what she meant. “It has for me. But your feelings have changed a lot since before, and I needed to check in, be sure we both felt the same way.”
“I keep coming back here, don’t I?”
“True.” He leaned over and kissed her gently. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Limits, health, all that stuff is the same. And I already gave you the green light for anal.”
He smirked at her. “Do you think I’d forget that?” If she’d wanted punishment tonight, he would have let it go. He never wanted her to associate having her ass taken with any bad feelings. That act was for willing and enthusiastic pleasure only in his book.
“Safewords?”
“Red, yellow, green. I’m out of practice.”
“I’ll check in on you often.”
“I know.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ll take care of me. I still trust you more than anyone.”
His chest clenched. “Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head. They could talk about this all night, or they could play out the scene they’d planned downstairs. He inhaled the smell of her shampoo, her short hair tickling his nose. He pulled himself inward, shielding his soft parts, his worries. She needed him to be in control, to protect her while she was vulnerable, to make sure they were both safe. A subtle tension ran through his body, straightening his back and sharpening the angle of his chin as he came into his headspace. “Now. Are you ready?”
She sat up in response, her body shifting at his tone. She practically hummed with anticipation. “Green, Sir.”
“Good girl. Get up and take off your clothes, then strip the comforter and get on your back.”
She scampered to the side of the bed, efficiently stripping and yanking the comforter away while he gathered his things out of the chest at the end of the bed. She started to wrestle with the comforter and he found he didn’t give a shit about having her fold it neatly into the waiting chair. “Don’t bother. Get on the bed.”
She tossed the comforter and hopped onto the mattress, eagerly settling in with a wriggle of her hips as she spread out like a starfish, waiting for the restraints. He bu
ckled her in, reminding her of how the emergency releases worked as he pinned the cuffs to the four points of the bed. With her strapped down and spread open, he set the clamps and clothespins—sorted according to the strength of their springs—on the mattress by her hips, along with a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. She’d asked for no surprises, but he could make her wait.
He ran his hands all over her skin, pinching lightly at bits of her flesh here and there, testing her sensitive spots, considering where to begin. Her pussy glistened deep pink, and he traced the wet edges of her labia, brushed her clit, and dipped a finger slightly inside her.
“Have you been this wet since dinner?”
“Yes.”
He slid two fingers deep inside her, pulled them free and sucked them clean. He had missed this, the slippery, sticky feel of her, the way she tasted when she was so turned on she could hardly stand it. He took her nipple between his wet fingertips and pinched hard, raising it to a point while she squealed and bucked her hips. He’d clamp her nipples first.
He held her nipple with one hand and placed the rubber-tipped pincers around it with the other, and screwed it down tight to hold it in place. He stopped when her whimpers turned to a squeak, on the edge of pain and pleasure with her eyes screwed shut.
“Look at me, kitten. Where are you?”
She breathed heavily for a moment, looked him in the eye, and said, “Green.”
“You’re certain?” There was one more nipple clamp to go and plenty of clothespins. He didn’t want to overtax her too quickly.
She nodded. “I’m sure. Green.”
“Good girl.”
He applied the other clamp, repeating the ritual of confirming they hurt enough, but not too much, with a tug on the chain that connected them. She answered in the affirmative. He flicked his tongue over the tip of one nipple where it peeked over the clamp. She gasped and tossed her head back, working her hips against the mattress.
Control. He had to stay in control. He could end it now and fuck her like this, but she’d asked for more. He slicked his fingers through her labia again and daubed the wetness on her nipples and licked it off. She whined and pulled on the restraints, breathing hard, muscles taut, pupils blown. He wanted to watch her fly.
