Dahlia obligingly retrieved the pitcher. She followed Hayden, who carried the hot tray of lasagna toward the dining room table, oven mitts on his hands.
She glanced out the large windows in the living room beyond. The wind wasn’t whipping quite as wildly as before, but the snow was still falling in a steady gray swirl. It was the kind of weather you curled up in front of a fire for, wearing comfy jammies and sipping hot cocoa. Yet, here she was, naked as a jaybird, a slave collar around her neck!
As he set down the tray, she noticed there was only one place setting. A large, flat pillow sat on the floor just beside the chair. She glanced from the table to Hayden, confused.
He cocked a brow, a half smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “Slave girls don’t sit on the furniture. That cushion is for you. Present.”
Chapter 20
It was going better than he’d dreamed possible. While the jury was still out on whether Dahlia had what it took to become a full-fledged BDSM slave, she definitely had excellent potential. He couldn’t wait to take her deeper into this M/s experiment over the next day and a half.
It struck him she wasn’t the only one moving out of their comfort zone. It had been years since he’d even considered getting involved to this degree with a BDSM play partner.
But this wasn’t just some random sub girl he’d chosen for a night’s entertainment. This was Dahlia. And she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever fallen for before.
They shared so much more than their kink. First there was their shared passion for medicine. Beyond that, their friendship had been steadily growing for several months before things turned romantic. That, too, was a first for him. Usually he tapped his play partner based on her looks and comportment as a sub. Long-term compatibility had never figured into the equation.
Until now.
At the moment, he could see it was a challenge for Dahlia to kneel on the cushion at his feet. This particular kind of letting go was clearly difficult for her. Though she hadn’t made any outward protest, it was written all over her face. She hadn’t yet learned to adopt the serene, compliant manner of a properly trained slave.
He could have relented and allowed her to sit at the table for dinner—a timeout from the intensity. But it was better she remain in slave mode for the duration of the weekend. If they were going to make a real go of this, she needed to discover the inner fortitude and courage to truly surrender her will in all respects—not just the ones that turned her on.
Ignoring her for the moment, he poured water into the glass they would share. Then he cut a large piece of the lasagna and slid it onto the plate. Still without looking at her, he took his first bite. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and then took a drink of ice water.
As he took his second bite, Dahlia shifted on the cushion and expelled a small chuffing breath of impatience. He could feel the irritation and tension radiating from her. If a trained sub had dared to exhibit that behavior, he would have either punished her on the spot or ignored her completely until he’d finished his own meal.
Instead, he scooped up a forkful of the pasta and turned to Dahlia. She actually lifted her hand to take the fork from him. “Whoa,” he rebuked, holding the fork out of her reach. “What are you doing? Hands back in position. Now.”
She frowned. “But—”
“No buts,” he interrupted. “Remember one of the first rules—you stay in position unless or until given permission to move.”
She drew in a breath, her struggle obvious.
“Right now, you are in present mode. You will stay in that position for the duration of the meal. Is that crystal clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, looking away.
“Dahlia,” he said gently, using a finger to turn her head and raise her chin until their eyes met. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it all the way. That means you don’t anticipate, you don’t assume, you don’t resist. You submit. This kind of power exchange isn’t something you turn on and off. I get it that this particular kind of submission—having someone else feed you—isn’t necessarily a turn-on for you. But if you can tap into your inner submissive, the one you’ve so beautifully displayed this evening, you might find the experience focusing, even sensual.”
She seemed to consider his words before finally giving a small nod of acquiescence.
Pleased, Hayden brought the laden fork to her lips. After she’d chewed and swallowed, he gave her a sip of water. A bit of it dripped down her chin, and he used his napkin to blot it away. He took another bite for himself and then fed her another morsel. She was well-behaved during the meal, remaining in position and keeping quiet, but she clearly wasn’t as engaged as she might be.