“I will never hurt you. We will establish boundaries and limits. I want this as much as I think you do. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
Heat dances along every inch of my skin as I confess, “You aren’t wrong.”
“Then do we understand one another?” he questions.
“Are you sure you can handle me?” I tease him one last time for good measure, wondering what he’ll do to me next time I give him lip. Will he turn me over and redden my ass? Will he lean me over the edge of the sofa and fuck me until I beg him to come?
My toes curl and I reach for the throw blanket, needing to hide myself right now although the additional heat is unwanted. Beggars can’t be choosers.
“I love your spirit, little bird. But you will only answer yes or no to the following questions, is that clear?” With shortened breath, I answer him yes, because I want to. I am more than willing to consider submitting to him. Little bird. I love it. He has no idea what it means to be called little bird. A flightless one who used to sing.
As he leans back in the chair, my gaze slips down to his jeans, specifically his cock that presses against his zipper and down his thigh. He doesn’t even try to hide it.
“Have you used hand signals before?” he questions.
“Yes.”
“Good. This relationship will be between us and only us. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“I will use signals when we are with company. And you will obey them as swiftly as possible or receive punishment. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I answer and if I ever had any shame, I’d feel it now at my eagerness. Truth be told, I feel nothing but desperation for us to begin. For the first time in a long time, I feel wanted, I feel excited. I feel a heated pulse that’s run cold for nearly a year now.
“Show me the commands,” he orders. “You have my permission to speak, but only to tell me the commands as you demonstrate them.” His deep, steadying breath raises his shoulders and his hands flex on the armrest before he grips them once again. It’s heady to watch a man like him resist his own desires. I want to know what will happen when he gives in. When I do what he says and he rewards both of us, fucking me the way he fantasizes about. I’m desperate to know what it’ll be like.
Raising my pointer in the air, the other fingers forming a fist, I make a circle parallel to the ceiling. “Undress.” I remember the signals easily. The recollection bombards me with the memories of a handsome man who used to care for me like no one else had before.
My pointer over my lips. “Silence.”
My pointer directed at the floor. “Come to me now.”
My pointer and middle finger both pointed at the ground and touching one another. “Kneel for me.”
My pointerand middle finger pointed at the ground but spread apart, forming a V. “Spread your legs for me.”
With my chest rising and falling easily, I attempt to recall any others, but I don’t think there were any.
“And what of specific kneels, eyes down, hands and knees at the point? What of that?”
Shaking my head gently, I maintain eye contact, and question if I should tell him or if I should remain silent.
“You can speak,” he states easily and frees me from the dilemma.
“I have never done any of that, and I don’t know what ‘at the point’ means.”
“Was he soft with you?”
Again I hesitate, and my fingers slip to the hem of my dress. “I don’t know.”
“Did you have lessons from anyone else or observe any other training?”
“No … not really. It’s not … It wasn’t my kink. I love it, and I loved being his, but all I know is what he told me.”
Zander’s hand flexes once more, the fingers noticeably spreading wide before he makes a fist. My eyes are drawn to the movement. “It means behave.”
A smirk tips up my lips. “Is it a threat of a spanking?” I question and Zander doesn’t react. Heat overwhelms me, the nervous kind and I stay perfectly still. His hazel eyes never leave me, and it takes a moment for him to answer. “No. It’s a command. I will not threaten you, and I don’t like that language.”