Her eyebrow twitched slightly.
“When the only tool you have is a hammer, Master William, every problem tends to look like a nail- doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t say you were a submissive,” I said. “I can tell you might not even know what any of these terms mean. But you’re not a dominant. You wouldn’t want to do what your perverted former boss wanted you to do.”
I was instantly jealous, I had to admit. I knew it was a long time ago and that I hadn’t even known her yet, but I couldn’t help but wonder how dare her old boss could creep in on my territory. I wanted Jocelyn to be mine, and no one else’s.
“I guess not,” she said. “Clearly you don’t fit into the stereotype of the powerful businessman who needs to visit a dominatrix to relax.”
“No,” I agreed. “I’m not wired that way. Never was. But the people who are, well, I think they’re lucky.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Her voice was soft, curious, starting to lose its edge more and more.
“I’m asking the questions,” I reminded her. “But if you were a dominant, if you’d seen some of the things I’ve seen- well, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”
“Yes,” said Jocelyn, a little wryly. “There’s a freedom in letting go. I read some about BDSM.”
She was definitely into me. She had even looked up my lifestyle.
I knew this was going to work out quite well.
Chapter 6
William
“Yes. I think there is freedom in letting go,” I told Jocelyn. “Deep down, we’re frightened of our free will. The responsibility is crushing. We want to feel like someone is controlling things. And sometimes, we just want to feel controlled.”
“So BDSM is a stand-in for religion?” she laughed. “That’s a new one.”
I shrugged.
“For some people? Maybe. I still have seventeen questions left, Jocelyn.”
Sighing, she crossed her legs, her skirt straining a little where it sat on her thigh. I wanted to rip it off and spread her legs and her pussy lips, and slide my cock in between it all. I couldn’t want to devour her.
“Fine. Go,” she said.
“Have you ever participated in BDSM?”
“No,” she said. Her eyes met mine, with a quiet challenge. She was determined not to be cowed. “But I’ve read about it. I didn’t think I would like it. At the time.”
She cleared her throat and I could tell she was embarrassed.
“What did you read about?” I asked her.
I watched her carefully, the way her body tensed at the invasion of my questions. I liked that I made her a bit uncomfortable. I liked that it was clear that she didn’t want to answer my question but that she knew that if she refused to answer, then I’d have won our little mind game. She didn’t want that.
“It was about a man spanking a woman,” she said, finally. “It was silly. Or at least, at time, it seemed silly. As if the author had read about it in some stupid men’s magazine that says all women secretly just want to be knocked out and dragged by their hair back to the cave.”
I nodded.
I could tell she wanted me to spank her.
It was obvious.
But I played along with her little game.
“Facile, isn’t it? And stupid,” I told her.
She laughed a little.
“Well, at least you don’t buy into it.”
“I think we prefer a narrative of prehistoric societies that makes us feel better about our modern-day brutality,” I said. “Whether or not it’s based on any pesky facts.”
“But women do like to be dominated,” she said, licking her lips artlessly. “You believe that. You must, based on what I’ve heard.”
“Some women do. I also believe in gravity,” I said, dryly. “And I’m fairly certain the sky is blue.”
“You don’t think it’s just a manufactured desire?” She was keyed up now, sitting up straighter in her seat, some of that fire coming back into her eyes. “Something we’re told we should want?”
“Of course it’s manufactured,” I said. “Just like the desire for a luxury car, or a nice apartment.”
“But those are things that actually make your life more comfortable,” Jocelyn insisted. “They actually make things better. You don’t need them, but it’s reasonable to want them.”
Considering this, I steepled my fingers together, resting my elbows on the desk.
“Have you ever given up control, Jocelyn? Voluntarily?”
Every part of her body was taut, like a big cat crouching before it pounced.
“Of course,” she said, but too fast. “Or I think, well. What is that supposed to mean?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t believe you. You’ve never given it up. You’re a good lawyer; I can tell. You’ve never surrendered willingly. If someone asked for something, you’d negotiate. You’d find a way to justify it to yourself. You’d make a trade. But you’ve never known the peace of true surrender. Without doubt, without hesitations, with complete trust.”