Savaged

She takes a deep breath.

“I want this,” she continued. “I don’t like to be alone, and I want to feel…safe.”

She looks up at me and her eyes are an intense chocolate brown—deep and expressive.

“I thought after…after what happened, I might never feel safe again. I tried to have a more typical relationship, but I know I need more than that. I need someone else to make decisions for me. I need to have someone to please. I need the domination. I just can’t-”

She stops and takes a long breath.

“I need it,” she says quietly. “I need to know I’m safe.”

“Do you feel safe with me?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath before answering.

“Miss Holly said you didn’t…” She falters in her speech and closes her eyes for a moment before looking back at me. “She said that you didn’t punish.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes, sir.” For the first time, Yvette fidgets in her chair. “I thought maybe it might work for me. I could still serve but not be afraid of what might happen.”

I keep my gaze on her eyes for a long moment as she tries to remain still. I’m impressed by her ability to appear outwardly calm though I can see the turmoil inside her eyes. There are subtle changes in her posture. I’m not sure if she’s used to speaking freely with a Dom or not, but she’s definitely on edge.

This is good.

“Oh, I punish, Yvette,” I correct her. I lean forward onto my arms and stare into her eyes. “I definitely punish. I just don’t punish physically.”

She drops her eyes back to her lap.

“Did I tell you to stop looking at me?”

She quickly corrects herself, but her eyes are wider now.

“No, sir,” she responds quietly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You will be punished for that,” I inform her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I look into her eyes as she stares back at me. She doesn’t like it, I can tell. She’s fighting with the need to look down, but I draw out the moment, increasing her discomfort until her mouth tightens, and I know she’s had enough.

“You were provided with a copy of my limits?” I ask, though I know she has been.

“Yes, sir.”

“They are acceptable to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of that chair,” I say quickly, my tone changing—commanding and forceful now, not unkind, just urgent. She complies immediately. “Turn around and walk to the coffee table.”

She walks quickly across the room and stands still when she reaches the table.

“Place your palms flat against the surface, but remain standing.”

She leans over immediately, her hands flat against the wood and her ass in the air, facing me.

“Spread your legs,” I command, and she obeys. “Pull your skirt up to your waist so I can get a better look at that ass.”