They were my only weapons, and he wanted me to put them down.
A sudden rush of bitterness took over my tongue. “Forgive me if I find the power I have left so miniscule that I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
That earned me a leveled stare and the next rule. “You will show respect. Sarcasm and backtalk are not acceptable forms of communication.”
“Well, I’m screwed.” I grabbed a small strawberry from the bowl and took a seductive nibble from the tip. “We aren’t in a session now, are we?”
“Fortunately for you, we are not.” He watched me finish it off, his eyes glued to my mouth as I licked my fingers afterward. His eyes were dark, hooded.
Yeah, this whole ceding power shit was going to take practice.
“Normally, whenever we’re alone like we are, we would be in session.” He set down his fork and picked up a strawberry himself, dipping it in cream before reaching across the table, offering it to me. “But we are just beginning.”
I was suddenly very aware of my blood rushing through my body, at the damp spot between my legs. Leaning forward, I let him trace my mouth with the cream before I took a small bite. My tongue swept slowly across my lips. When I moved in for the next bite, however, he pulled his hand away, popping the rest of the berry in his own mouth.
He sat back then and frowned. “That was a freebie,” he said. “Not what you deserved. To receive pleasure, you must earn it.”
“Oh, then I’m not screwed, you’re saying.” It was exactly the type of sarcasm he’d said that wouldn’t be tolerated.
“Punishments are also mine to dole out as I see fit.” The dark expression was back. The idea of punishing me turned him on as much as anything else, I realized.
That was…intriguing/fascinating/scary/hot.
It was a bunch of things all at once that I didn’t know how to process.
“No snappy comeback to that one?” He stroked his chin. “Interesting.”
“I was thinking.”
“Thoughtfulness is good. It shows you’re taking this seriously.”
Maybe not seriously enough. “Do I get a safe word?”
“You won’t need one.”
Either that meant he believed his punishments didn’t need them or he didn’t care if I felt unsafe when he administered them. Both options felt dangerous.
He studied me. “That makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”
“You like that it does, don’t you?”
He paused then chuckled with a shake of his head. He picked up his fork and resumed eating. It was two full bites later before he said more. “If you feel unsafe, you’ll tell me. There doesn’t need to be a game about it.”
It sounded clear enough. Still, I didn’t trust him.
But there was nothing I could say to argue. “I assume that means there won’t be restrictions on my speech.”
“No restrictions. I do expect you to think carefully before you do—to choose carefully. But no outright restrictions. Half the fun is what you come up with to say.”
I rolled my eyes, decidedly disrespectful. It was fortunate we weren’t in a session.
Sessions, he called them. Not scenes like the books I’d read referred to times of kink play. Like he meant them to be therapy.
I frowned realizing that might very well be the case.
I tried not to think about that. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Your birth control shot runs out next month. There will be a nurse brought to the island to administer another.”
“Then I will be screwed. How fun.”
“I did tell you fucking was part of this bargain.” He swirled what was left in his glass before taking it back in one swallow, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Just, from everything that’s happened so far, it feels like I’m being fucked in a very different way.” What was terrifying was how much I still wanted him despite that.
I tossed my napkin on my plate and pushed my plate away, my irritation returning. “Let me guess. This nurse will only speak French.”
“Don’t be silly. You know French.”
“Are you guessing?”
“Fais-je fausse route?”
“Non,” I said with a sigh. He was not wrong. And that irked me more. “Speaking of being fucked over, how is it that you know when my birth control runs out?”
“Your privacy is not a privilege.”
“I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise considering the bikini wax.” It worried me though, what else he could know. Which of my secrets he could uncover. “Oh,” I said, relaxing with my realization. “My doctor sent a reminder email to schedule something, didn’t she?”
He ignored me. “My privacy, on the other hand, is assured.”
“Of course it is. Is that all?”
He put his elbows on the table, inching his plate away in the process, and clasped his hands together. “Is that all, sir.”
“What?”
“When we are in a session, you will address me as sir.”
This latest rule sent a shudder down my spine, a flinch I couldn’t hide. “I’d rather not,” I said softly.
His brow raised in satisfaction. “All the more reason that you will.”
I swallowed, my hands sweating in my lap. Memories from another time—another man— flooded me bodily.
“What do you say about my gift, Celia?”
“Thank you, Uncle Ron.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t.
Except, it was more important not to let Edward know how I felt about it. It was not a weak spot I wanted him to know.
I managed to keep from shaking as I picked up my champagne flute. “We aren’t in a session right now.”
“We are,” he said, placing his napkin next to his plate. “Dinner is finished. It’s time to go.” He stood and circled behind me to pull out my chair.
I finished my champagne and set it down before standing. “Do I need to change into some terribly drab outfit first?”
His forehead rose in a silent prompt.
I drew my hands into balls at my sides and gritted my teeth. “Do I need to change into some terribly drab outfit, sir.” I spat the last word out.
His eyes narrowed, and for half a second I thought he’d challenge my tone. But then he looked me over, scanned me from head to toe, as though really looking at me for the first time that night. He couldn’t hide that he liked what he saw. “What you’re wearing is fine enough,” he said, unwilling as ever to give me anything more.
“Careful,” I said, smug about my wardrobe choice. “I might mistake that as a compliment.” A beat passed before I remembered. “Sir.”
Ten
My triumph was short-lived.
As soon as we arrived at the bungalow, he led me into the bedroom. “Take all your clothes off, fold them, and leave them on the chest. Once you’re completely stripped, kneel on the floor facing the chair.”
Then he disappeared into the front room, leaving me to my task.
He wouldn’t see my power stockings after all.