Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, femdom bdsm play, discipline, pain play, bondage, humiliation, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.
It’s been three days since Adam arrived at the mistress’s house, but when looking back on them he remembers only a whirlwind of new experiences that overwhelm any sense of time. In only that short period it has fulfilled all the lofty hopes that brought him here, but it has awakened new deeper, secret hopes as well. In quiet moments, he even dares to think that it is special to the mistress, too, even as experienced and worldly as she is. As together they delve ever deeper into the submissive dominant relationship and push at the boundaries of what Adam thought himself capable of and comfortable with, the promises that they would not become too attached begin to erode. In the heat of the moment – and the moments get very hot indeed – who can say what will be said and what plans may be changed to address these unexpected feelings?
She had lowered herself so that she was sitting on my thighs, her skin against mine. Her hand rested on my hip as she continued to hold my face towards her with her other hand. It was a symbolic gesture. I could never have looked away now. She was praising me for things I had never known about myself, but now that she had said them and said that she liked them, I couldn’t bear the thought of being any other way. So I looked at her, submissive and patient for her to do what she clearly wanted to so badly.
She produced a match from her pocket, struck it, and lit the candle before setting it aside on the floor. The clean scent of its smoke infused the air.
“Do you trust me, Adam?” she asked.
“Good,” she said. “That’s good. Because this isn’t something I would do with just anyone.”
“I trust you, Mistress,” I repeated. But even so, my chest felt tight.
She laid a hand on my on the pale, sensitive skin of my stomach. She could feel my slight trembling. She could see the trepidation that, in spite of my need to please and be brave and be open-minded, I could not shut out entirely.
“If it becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me,” she said. “I want you to say so, alright? I want you to say ‘Awry.'”
“Awry,” I repeated.
“This is a safe room,” she said, “where two people who trust each other can explore things that they would not do with other people.”
I watched her, still at a complete loss for what was about to happen. I pulled lightly at my wrists. The bondage I understood. The bondage I liked. But it also made what was coming all the more terrifying, whatever it was. But I was grateful that she was speaking this way with me. It reminded me why I was not, in my conscious mind, afraid.
Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: Flirting with Boundaries with full consent of the original author.