Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Shaking my head once, I admit, “I did not. Kamden did.”
“I see.”
“Would you rather I didn’t?” I question, not understanding her concern and not liking it either.
“It’s a relief you’ll be there, to be honest. I just … Kamden didn’t tell me that.”
My hum of acknowledgment is low and short.
“There will be alcohol present at both. It’s my preference that you don’t drink at either event. Do you agree?”
Ella meets my eyes. Her lips part, as if she’s considering disagreeing deeply, but it’s several beats before she speaks. This consideration tells me that she’s capable of being in this scene. It’s something I check for constantly—her ability to consent. Consent, in scenes and otherwise, is never one and done. It can change at any second. At any moment, she could give me her safe word, and this would end. “Yes. I agree.” Her voice is so low, so soft.
“I know about the small bottles, little bird.”
A frisson of shock moves through the air between us, Ella’s eyes widening.
“Do you know which ones I’m referring to?” I ask.
She only nods. “I’d like you to answer verbally.”
“I do. Yes.”
“I found the bottles, and I reviewed the tapes. I know what you did, and I don’t like it. Self-medicating and risking adverse side effects is something that puts you in danger. You’re not going to be drinking while you’re in my care. I’m glad you agree to the rule. But you should know that I will punish you if you break it.” My grip tightens on the armrest when I add, “Severely, and you will not enjoy it.”
She nods again. Ella rubs her knees against one another nervously. Her body is tight, not with desire, but fear. “Am I in trouble?” She hasn’t experienced a punishment yet beyond orgasm denial. I set her up for that one last night. Tonight I intend to set her up again, but it will be different and certainly not for something she did before she gave her submission to me.
“Do you think you should be?”
“I was … it was a bad moment.”
“We also hadn’t established our arrangement yet. Had we?” I question her.
Shaking her head, her posture relaxes just slightly. “No, we hadn’t started.”
Taking a moment to let her compose herself, I shift in my seat, not hiding how very hard I still am for her. I need her to know I still want her. Even if she’s done something to upset me, I will always want her.
“Now. We need to prepare for your outings. We will practice.”
“Practice?”
“Questions will naturally come up while you’re with your friends, or while you’re at the rendezvous.” Ella changes before my eyes. Her breathing goes shallow, her back straightens and her muscles tense. “They may ask you questions about your voice, or other specifics you have yet to discuss openly and you’ll need to be prepared to answer. We’ll practice that now.”
“They won’t ask. They won’t.” Ella denies the possibility and it fucking guts me how much she truly believes it.
I continue with the scene, I continue my role as her Dom even as the emotions sweep through me. “If they ask you why you hurt yourself, what will you answer?”
“No.” Her answer is hard. She struggles to keep my gaze, her head held high in defiance. “I don’t want to do this.”
What she hasn’t done, though, is use her safe word.
“You know what to do if you want to stop something. If you want a scene to end without punishment. You know exactly what to do. So are you telling me no?” I gentle my voice to add, “Or are you saying something else?” She has yet to use her safe word. I imagine the first time will be the hardest for her. This moment, though, this scene, will hopefully not be what does her in, but given her state, I need to remind her that it is available. She has yet to discuss it with me, and it could very well be a boundary and a hard limit for her.
She holds my gaze, the cords in her throat tightening as she whispers, “No.”
Good girl.
It does something to me, that “no.” That open disobedience. I don’t let it show on my face, or in my posture. Her choice tells me how much she wants to heal. That is my good fucking girl. Even if she’s going to be punished, I am thrilled with her decision.
“No?”
“I don’t—I don’t want to talk about it.”
The energy in the room feels heightened, almost electric. We’re heading toward a line, together. We’re barreling toward something new, and I can’t breathe for the anticipation of it. I study her. The way she sits, her back straight, her chin lifted. The way her dark eyes never leave mine. Ella knows what she’s doing.
“You need to practice. It can’t be avoided.” It’s true. When she reenters public life, the question will come up. More than likely, given her public profile, she will endure it constantly. She must prepare. I need to know she can handle it. I need to know that it won’t cause her to break down and erase all the progress she’s made. “Are you choosing to disobey me?”