I just smiled sweetly. “Well, if it bothers you that much, think about it this way,” I purred. “Technically, I am dominating you. I’m telling you the scene, and you’re going to do it. If I can’t spank you till you’re red in the ass cheeks, I’m going to push your limits till you blush.”
Understanding dawned on his face, and he saw my point. “So you really want me . . . like that?” he asked tentatively.
“It can’t hurt to try,” I said, “and if you have a hard time with it, remind yourself that you never drop character, and it would be a shame to drop this one. I just think this kind of change could be good for us.” I smiled again, and winked.
He took a deep breath. “Can I have a moment to compose myself before we begin? It’s not a mind-set I’m used to,” he said, more relaxed but still somewhat uneasy.
I nodded. “One minute until the scene.” He walked out and shut the door.
The man entered a minute later, transformed.
His face, normally composed of a self-assured smile and warm, inviting eyes, had been replaced with a firm mask. His face, now grim with determination, spoke of control and of need.
“Cerise,” he said, voice thwacking the air like a whip, “hand me your collar before we begin.” My arm shot out of its own accord and gave him the piece of leather.
He tipped my head up by the chin and fastened the collar around my throat, examining me harshly.
“Have you been thinking of me today, Cerise?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Have you thought about what your punishment should be? Your stubbornness pushed me away from you, and I have been deprived of your touch. You’re going to pay for my . . . displeasure.”
I shuddered and lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Master William. It will never happen again.”
“Who do you serve?” he asked, brows low over his predatory eyes. Bizzy hummed the 1812 Overture and warned me about the impending fireworks show.
“You, Master. Only you,” I whispered, secretly loving switching places.
His grip on my chin tightened, and he lowered his face level with mine. “Understand this,” he murmured, eyes searching my face, “you are mine.”
My voice found itself after a moment, and I echoed his sentiments. “I am yours.”
“Rise,” he said, “and lay down on your back.” He pointed to the bed, and headed to my toy chest where he pulled out four six-foot lengths of rope. Black.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, and proceeded to tie my arms and legs to all four bedposts. I was sprawled and immobile and couldn’t possibly struggle if I wanted to.
The rope felt smooth against my skin—he was good. No knotting or overlapping to cut my circulation, just perfectly tied bindings. It took all the effort I had in me to keep from panting like I had run a marathon.
This was way hotter than I had expected.
“I’m going to do some things to you, girl, and I don’t want to hear you make a sound until I say so. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
“Open,” he said, and tied a pair of my black stockings around my mouth, balling them up a little to slightly gag me. He held his ear to my mouth to hear if I had made a noise and nodded. “Good girl.” William ran his finger over my wide-open mouth and murmured his approval.
He spun and returned to the toy chest with a disappointed face as he rifled through my chest of whips and floggers and vibrating friends. “You have a poor selection for me, Cerise,” he grunted, and slammed the lid shut. “Nothing I could truly punish you with, and certainly nothing I can really pleasure with. I suppose I’ll just have to use the tools I have at hand.” He wiggled his fingers at me, and my body shuddered with anticipation.