I brushed off my disappointment. It was fine. I’d worn them for me, not him. Mostly.
At least these instructions were familiar. I’d never played the sub before, but I’d prepared for this. The strip and kneel was very basic submissive training. This was something I could do.
I took a moment to scan the room. Again, there were oriental-framed windows looking out to the ocean and bamboo ceilings and tile floors. It was sparsely furnished with only a king size bed, a chest, and a chair. There was no dresser, but there was a closet. There were no apparent kink contraptions. No hooks hanging from the ceiling. No spanking benches.
Not that Edward wasn’t creative. He probably didn’t need gadgets.
Who had he brought here before? Who had he fucked in that bed? What remnants of other women would I find if I looked?
I’d taken two steps toward the closet hoping to check it out when Edward called out from the other room. “Hurry up about it, please. I expect you ready by the time I come back.”
The clink of glassware told me he was fixing himself a drink. That wouldn’t take long. I’d have to rush.
Somehow I managed to get the dress off, the garter, panties, stockings, all of it folded on the wood chest, the shoes on the floor next to it, and myself down on my knees just as he walked in.
I kept my eyes lowered, one of the guidelines from my reading, so I could only really see his shoes as he circled around me. Studying me? Whatever he was doing, it made me feel very exposed.
Except when I’d tried to kill him with the shard of glass, I’d never been completely naked this close to him before. I preferred it to the gut-wrenching storytelling from the night before, but on my knees, with my gaze down, felt chillingly different than standing in front of a man, attempting to seduce him. That was a powerful posture. This was pointedly not.
After he’d completed his inspection, Edward sat in the chair. “Eyes on me.”
I lifted them and felt my breath speed up when they caught his heated gaze. It was heady, the way he looked at me. Almost intoxicating enough to distract me from the foreign submissive position.
“This might have happened last night,” Edward said, sipping his drink casually, as though he wasn’t at all stirred by the naked woman in front of him. The bulge in his pants said otherwise. “The second part of the session. We weren’t ready to move on, though, so we’ve divided it.”
When he said we, I was sure he really meant me. But I did recognize it was possible he meant us both.
“I think we should take a moment to recap what occurred last night. Can you tell me succinctly?”
“I believe I can, Edward,” I said haughtily, hoping if I “forgot” often enough he wouldn’t correct the “sir” slip. “I opened up, told you something personal, became vulnerable like you asked, and you were unappreciative.”
The correction he gave was with a glare.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“We won’t continue if you won’t follow the rules, Celia. And if we don’t continue, you’ll never get back home.” His tone was more matter-of-fact than stern, but it was a clear enough threat. Obey or else.
“You were unappreciative, sir,” I said, my skin crawling with the simple added syllable.
He nodded. “Because…?”
I had a thousand snappy answers at the ready, but I held back. He’d just given me every reason to play along.
Except, I wasn’t so sure of the answer. Wasn’t so sure what he wanted to hear. I thought about how my revealing had ended the night before, how, when I’d felt too vulnerable, too raw, I’d tried to counter with my power grab. As he’d so precisely called me on it, I’d been bragging.
I knew the answer. “Because when I was finished, I didn’t allow myself to be weak.” My eyes lowered automatically, unable to hold his in the admission, then immediately rose again when I remembered he wanted them on him, as hard as it was to keep them there. “I did brag, yes, but if I’d told it differently, if I’d let the truth come out, you would have seen my weakness there too. Sir.” I flinched as I added the address.
“Very good. I’m pleased you could recognize your failure. Very pleased.”
His praise made me feel sun-touched, like I was glowing in its rays.
“However, as well as you’ve done now, there must still be consequences for your behavior last night. Let’s see what those books have taught you—show me what you can do with that mouth.”
He spread his legs, inviting me to fill the space between them.
A mixture of relief and victory and, yes, want, flooded through me. This was my punishment? Sucking him off? This was a cinch. I was good at blow jobs. They were one of the easiest ways to manipulate men, and I’d become an expert. How fucking lucky could I get? How stupid was he not to see that, with his cock in my mouth, I would definitely not be ceding power—I would be claiming it.
And I’d be touching him too, fondling him in all the ways I’d wanted, in all the ways he hadn’t let me before now. Moisture pooled between my legs.
Eagerly, I crawled forward and began working on his belt, pausing to stroke my palm along the hard ridge pressing against the pleat of his trousers. He gave a satisfied grunt, and the muscles in my thighs vibrated. Licking my lips, I glanced up at him. I could feel the smile in my eyes. I couldn’t help it. I was excited.
He’d seen it, too. The space between his brows creased as though he was just figuring something out, and when I went back to undo his zipper, he caught my hand, stopping me. “I changed my mind,” he said, pushing me away. “Get on the bed.”
“Uh. Okay.” It took me a minute to stand, I was too stunned.
The bed could be good though too. Certainly more comfortable than the ceramic tile.
But if he still had a blow job on the agenda, it was going to be very different from any I’d given before. Because when I got on the bed, he had me lie on my back, my ass at the foot of the bed, my knees bent, my legs spread—a very similar position to the one he’d fucked me in the night we’d married.
Even better.
My stomach flipped expectantly, waiting for him to unsheath his gorgeous cock. Again, though, he surprised me. He got down on his knees.
I clamped my knees together and sat upright, alarm shooting through my veins. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I'm going to eat that pussy.”
I shook my head, even as new arousal gushed between my legs.
“Why would you want to do that?” I couldn’t help the panic in my voice. He couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t let him. There was no way.
“Because you don't want me to.”
The asshole saw everything, knew everything. He’d made a momentary misstep thinking that getting me down on my knees was the way to punish me, but I’d given myself away. This was true punishment. This was true vulnerability. Having my legs open, letting a man give me pleasure—letting myself relax enough to feel the pleasure—that was truly giving up my power, truly giving up control. I’d been there before and never wanted to be there again. The idea was a nightmare to me, and it was obvious in the way I shooed him off, the way I tried to kick him away. The way the sweat beaded on my forehead.