“Yes.”
“Orgasm denial?”
I hesitate to answer. With my pause, Zander asks, “You prefer it to be saved for greater offenses?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” The deep hum feels like a threat, like he knows how to mold me, how to make me behave.
“Tell me what your limits are. You can speak freely.”
“My previous …” I trail off and a tickle runs down my neck as I realize I’m going to speak of James as my Dominant for the first time in my life.
“Your Dom,” Zander says, then nods in understanding and there’s a note of comfort to his tone I don’t expect. There’s no jealousy. No judgment. It’s freeing, although the sadness lingers.
I can only nod and then swallow harshly. “He used forced silence first. Making me request permission before speaking by resting my hand on his thigh.”
With a narrowed gaze paired with his thumb dragging across the pads of his fingertips he questions, “For any offense?”
“My typical offense was back talk.”
“How is that not surprising?” Zander offers me a wicked grin that teases the sensitive bundle of nerves desperate for his lips and his touch.
“It is important to me that we speak freely and with respect. I love your mouth and there are a number of things I imagine doing to it. But it would hurt me greatly to silence you.”
The seriousness of his admission warrants an “understood” from me.
“If it occurs, there will be physical punishment before forced silence. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine your behavior was different when you last enjoyed that relationship.”
“Very,” I admit and the flashes of a woman I used to be threaten to break me. Before the memories can linger, Zander continues.
“There was more than spanking and forced silence. What else?”
My body hums with exhilaration, and I’m grateful for the distraction. “We played with paddles and whips. I loved the paddles. I didn’t like the whips at all. I don’t want to bleed.”
“He broke skin each time with the whips?” Although his tone is calm, his question is spoken quickly, with an urgency that puts me on edge.
“Yes. We only did it the once and I couldn’t handle it.”
“Not all whippings break skin.”
“I don’t want to bleed. That’s the reason I don’t like whips.”
The tips of Zander’s fingers tap one after the other in rhythm against his jeans as he considers what I’ve said. “I think we should eliminate all whips for now, but know they don’t all result in what you experienced. He practiced and learned with you; is that right?”
I can only nod, emotions getting the better of me. I don’t like thinking of James as lesser. There’s not an ounce of me that wants that.
“He didn’t want to hurt me. He stopped. The moment I used the safe word, he stopped.” The words rush out of me, each one of them trembling.
I’m met with silence and the only sound I hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
“I made you feel you had to defend your former Dom. It’s not my intention. For that, I apologize.”
The unexpected response only brings about emotions I don’t expect. A true sadness and I don’t want it.