Mia looked so peaceful lying in my bed that I left her sleeping. She needs it after what she’s been through the past few days.
Sitting in my office, I find my mind drifting to her instead of focusing on work. It felt so good to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up with her juicy ass nestled against me. I was tempted to wake her up by sliding my cock inside her, but we haven’t had any discussions about consent yet.
A soft tap on the door distracts me from thoughts of Mia in my bed. My cock stiffens at the realization that it’s probably her outside the room. My men don’t knock so quietly.
“Lorenzo?” she calls out, confirming my suspicion.
“Come in.”
She walks through the door, a huge smile on her face and her hair still mussed from sleep—the embodiment of my pet name for her. She’s wearing a T-shirt of mine, and from the outline of her hard nipples against the soft fabric, little else. I growl my appreciation.
“All of my clothes are still packed away in boxes,” she says when she sees me staring at her attire. “This was on the top of your laundry basket. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not even a little. Come here.” I push my chair back and watch her walk toward me. She looks at the floor rather than at me.
I reach for her as soon as she’s within touching distance, pulling her close enough that I can cup her chin and tilt her head up. “Why won’t you look at me, sunshine?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure of the rules.”
“There are no rules. Yet. We haven’t agreed to them.”
She smiles wider. “We agree to them together?”
“Of course.”
“Will I need a safe word?”
“Yes.”
“I think it should be bananas.”
Laughing, I arch one eyebrow. “It can’t be bananas.”
“Why not?”
“Because it has to be a word that you wouldn’t ordinarily say. You say bananas far too often.”
Her hazel eyes widen. “I do?”
“Mia.” I brush a hand through her hair and tug her head back to the perfect angle. “You are the only person I know who says bananas when they really mean fuck.” I kiss her soft lips then release her so she can perch on the edge of my desk.
“I don’t always say bananas when I mean that other word,” she reminds me, a pink blush creeping across the bridge of her nose.
“Pick another.”
She presses her lips together and stares at the ceiling. “How about cantaloupe?”
“Why the obsession with fruit?”
With a shrug, she pops a grape into her mouth from the bowl on my desk. “I guess I’m a fruity kind of person.”
She’s certainly something. My eyes roam over her face. She’s entirely serious about her word choice.
“So cantaloupe then? Can that be my safe word? I would never say that usually. I’d just say melon.”
“Cantaloupe is fine.”
She inches along the edge of my desk, dangerously close. Mia will soon learn that being within touching distance means she’s likely to end up with a part of me inside a part of her. She runs a fingernail across the collar of my shirt. “Do you have a safe word?”
“No.”
“I read that some Doms do.”
“I don’t. I’ll stop a scene if I think it’s too much for either of us.”
“Okay. So, do we need to discuss limits?” I pull her onto my lap and silence her with a brief kiss, but as soon as I let her up for air, she’s talking again. “I’m sorry, I just have so many questions,” she whispers.
“I know, sunshine. How about we go grab some breakfast before we talk any more about this?” I run my nose along her throat, and I swear, she fucking purrs like a contented cat. “Because thinking about all of the filthy things I’d like to do to you while you’re sitting here half naked is making me hard as fuck.”
She giggles, biting her lip as she runs her slender fingers over the back of my neck. “I guess that’s not very conducive to talking then?”
I grab a handful of her perfect ass. “No. If we stay here, the only talking you’ll be doing is moaning my name.”
Her hazel eyes grow darker and she clears her throat. “That sounds all kinds of hot, but I think we should talk first.”
I’m glad she backs away, because I lack the willpower to force the issue, and I really don’t want to fuck this up before we even get started.
Mia sits opposite me, chewing a bite of her pancakes and watching me intently. I can almost hear her brain working, racing with questions.
“You want to talk about how this might work?”
She nods, swallowing her food before she speaks. “Please.”
“What do you want to discuss first?”
Her brows pinch together. “I researched Dom/sub relationships, but I don’t know where to start. So how about you tell me what rules you’d like to have, and I can say whether I’m happy with them? Is that okay?”
“I only have one rule.”
“And what’s that?”
“You give me complete control over your body.”
She gawks at me. “Complete control?”
“Yes.”
“B-but how would that even work? Like you’d tell me what I could and couldn’t do all the time? I’d have no free will?”
I run a hand over my beard. “You always have free will. But when I tell you to do something, I’d expect you to do it. No matter where we are or what you’re doing. There may be days when I don’t ask you to do anything at all. Other days I may feel like controlling every aspect of your day. Or there may be times when you don’t feel like making any decisions and you ask me to make them for you.”
Deep in contemplation, she rests her fork against her lips. “And in return, what do I get out of this arrangement?”
“You get the freedom of knowing that someone else is always in control. I will always take care of you. Part of my role as your Dom is to know what you need, and giving you that is something I take very seriously. I would never do anything to cause you any real harm.”
“Hmm.” Her brow furrows. “Can you give me an idea of the kinds of ways you’d exert this control?”
“It’s the act of your submission that interests me. Knowing that I have control over you is what I thrive on. I have little desire to police what you eat or wear.” She’s had enough of that in her life. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t sometimes order for you when we eat out or occasionally choose your clothes.”
Nodding, she leans forward in her chair.
“If we go anywhere and I have expectations about how you’re to behave, I’ll outline them before we go. If we engage in any kind of play, I will make the boundaries and expectations clear at all times.”
“I like clear expectations.”
“And there are certain things I’d like to work on with you.”
She frowns. “Work on?”
“Yes. Your nervous chattering for one.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes. “I thought you liked that I talk a lot?”
“I do, sunshine. I’m not referring to you talking a lot, I mean the babbling you do when you’re nervous.” I lean forward now too. “I guess it’s a trauma response, but I don’t think it’s from Brad because you said he berated you for talking too much. So I’m thinking it was something before that?”
Her mouth drops open, and she blinks at me for a few seconds.
“If I’m going to be your Dom, it’s helpful for me to know what causes you to react to things the way you do.”
“Well, you’re right about the babbling. My dad was a drunk. I was his little princess. I used to tell him jokes and stories to distract him when he was trying to beat my mom. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.” She shrugs.
The fact she grew up in an abusive household explains a lot about her. But that’s a conversation for a different day.
“I also want to work on your low self-esteem.”
“I do not have low self-esteem,” she retorts.
“No?” I arch one eyebrow. “Why the hell have you only eaten half a pancake for breakfast when I made you three?”
She presses her lips together and mutters, “Touché.”
“You want to keep going, sunshine?”
She glares at me. The defiance in her eyes makes my cock hard. “Yes.”
“You only need to address me as Sir in the bedroom or if I’ve instructed you to do so. But I expect obedience and respect at all times. Any failure to adhere to the rules will result in a punishment.”
She chews on her juicy bottom lip. “So obedience and complete control? And that includes sex too, obviously?”
“Sex is a huge part of it, yes. And that’s why we need to discuss your limits. Hard limits are the things you’re not willing to try at all, and a soft limit is something you’re unsure about but you’d be open to exploring it if it’s handled carefully and considerately.”
“So, should I tell you what my hard limits are, because I already know them.” She takes another bite of her pancake.
“You have been doing your research.”
Nodding, she continues to chew.
“Yes, tell me what your hard limits are.”
“I don’t think I have many, actually.”
I frown. “No?”
“No. Because isn’t that what safe words are for? You’ll stop if I’m not into something?”
“Yes, that’s what your safe word is for, but there must be things you wouldn’t even consider trying.”
Her lips twitch into a wicked smile. “Ball gags.”
That’s definitely not where I thought she’d start. “Ball gags?”
“Yup, and I know you have a thing about my constant chattering, so I’m sorry if they were going to feature in your training, but I can’t do them.” She shakes her head, and her hair falls in soft caramel waves over her shoulders.
Cupping her chin, I brush the pad of my thumb over her full lips. “I have plenty of more interesting ways of keeping you from talking, sunshine.”
Her throat constricts as she swallows, but her eyes hold mine and they blaze with fire.
“Anything else?” I ask as I sit back.
“Nothing degrading or humiliating. Like I don’t want to be led around on a leash or get peed on. Although I don’t get the sense that they’re your thing anyway.”
I don’t confirm that she’s right. We’ll get to my limits shortly. “Anything else?”
“Anal fisting,” she says, deadpan.
“No anal fisting,” I agree, fighting to keep the smirk from my face. “So fisting in general is okay then?”
She looks at my huge hands resting on the table and winces. “Okay, maybe no fisting at all.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
“Is that all?”
“I think so.”
She hasn’t given this enough thought. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for her, but better to do it here in the safety of the kitchen than when my hand is wrapped around her throat or I have her bent over my knee. “What about punishment, Mia?”
She blinks a few times and suddenly her eyes are wet with tears. “Like beating?”
Shaking my head, I frown. “There are many different forms of punishment, not just physical.”
“Don’t ignore me. I would hate that.”
“That’s not a punishment I would use.”
“Is beating?”
I suck on my lip. This won’t work if I’m not honest, right? “Not beating. I’m not a sadist. Causing physical pain doesn’t get me off, but …”
“But?”
“There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain, and I like to walk that line. Spanking makes me hard as fuck. Having complete dominance over you makes me even harder. But you do understand that spanking and causing physical pain to illicit pleasure is different than beating someone?”
Her eyelashes flutter, wet with unshed tears. “Yes.”
“Is that a hard limit for you?”
“Do you only use your hand?”
“Not just my hand,” I admit. “Many things. A cane. A flogger. A paddle. My belt.”
Her tanned face pales. “Just don’t use a belt.”
“Is that a hard limit?” I hope not. I’d love to stripe her ass with my belt.
She wrinkles her nose again, the way she does when she’s thinking. “If it’s a soft limit, we’d always discuss using one first, right?”
“Always.”
“Then it’s a soft limit, I guess.”
“So spanking in general?”
She gives me a faint smile. “Spanking is fine.”
I walk around the table and sit beside her, taking her face in my hands. “We don’t have to decide all of this now. We can take it slow and work out what you like as we go.”
“That sounds good.”
“Do you trust me, sunshine?”
“Yes,” she says, without a flicker of hesitation.
“Then know that I will never hurt you. I will never punish you when I’m angry. I consider it a privilege and an honor to have your submission, and if we do this, your safety is my priority. Always.”
“If we do this?”
“We can just be us. No Dom, no sub. Just me and you. If that’s what you want.”
She shakes her head. “I want to be your submissive, Lorenzo.”
“Why?”
Hurt and confusion flash across her face.
“This is important, Mia. Why do you want this?” I need to know that this isn’t about her trying to compete with anyone else or a misguided attempt to please me. If she’s not all in on this because it’s what she truly desires, it won’t work, and I’d rather we have a more conventional relationship than a failed one.
Head tilted to the side, she takes a deep breath. “I’ve thought a lot about this,” she says, her brow wrinkled in a frown. “When I was in Iowa, I looked into the lifestyle quite a bit. It was something I was open to exploring, even if it wasn’t with you.”
I grind my teeth at the thought of her with another man but force myself to remain silent and let her continue.
“When I was married to Brad, most of my life was controlled by him. What I could wear. What I should eat. How much I should weigh. Who I could talk to. So, shouldn’t I want the opposite of that in a new relationship?”
The question is obviously rhetorical, so I remain silent but motion for her to continue.
“But that’s not what I want at all. I mean, I want control, but isn’t that what this is? Aren’t I the one in control here too? I think that was what drew me to Brad when I met him. He always took charge of situations, and I loved that about him. I guess I was attracted to his dominance even though I didn’t really understand that back then. And there were so many red flags that I didn’t see until after we were already married. This”—she waves her hands between us—“feels like an equal partnership way more than any other kind of relationship could be. I choose to give my autonomy to you, and in return you respect my wishes and my feelings. You stop whenever I ask you to. You check in with me. You care for me and my well-being. And that is why I want this.”
I brush my fingertips over her cheek. She couldn’t have given me a more perfect answer if I’d written it for her myself.
“And why do you want this, Lorenzo?” she asks softly, her hazel eyes shining green as they stare into mine. She’s so open and trusting. In my world of darkness and deceit, she is an actual ray of fucking sunshine.
“These limits don’t mean a lot to me, Mia.” My statement is met with a frown. “Your limits do, of course. I will respect them, but there’s very little I wouldn’t be prepared to do for or to you. I don’t enter into this kind of relationship lightly, and I’m not doing it so I can punish or praise or spank you. We could do those things in a conventional relationship too. I told you before, what I want is simply your submission. The very act of you giving up your control is what’s important to me.”
She climbs into my lap and straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “If you want my submission, you have it. I’m yours.”
My cock throbs in my pants as she rolls her hips. There are two thin pieces of fabric between us, and the heat from her pussy is too fucking distracting.
“My good girl,” I growl, running my nose over her collarbone.
“Only if you want me to be.” She laughs softly. “But you must have some limits. You said there was very little you wouldn’t do, not nothing.”
“I have two.” I lift my head and look into her beautiful trusting face. “Infidelity is unforgivable. It’s the worst breach of trust between two people who have committed themselves to each other. You ever cheat on me and we’re over.”
She shakes her head. “I would never.”
“That means I don’t share. No matter the circumstances. You belong only to me.”
“I don’t want you to share.” Her eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Why would you do that?”
“Some people do, especially in the community. Sometimes as a form of punishment, other times because that’s a couple’s dynamic, but it’s not mine.”
“Not mine either. So I guess that’s a hard limit for me too,” she says. “And your other limit?”
“I can’t abide petty jealousy. Know that if I’m committed to you, I am yours as much as you’re mine. If I talk to a woman, if I make pleasant conversation, that doesn’t mean I want to fuck her.” It was the thing Anya struggled with most, and it took years for me to condition it out of her. Questioning my loyalty is a big deal for me.
Mia smiles. “No acting jealous if you speak to another woman. Promise. No cheating or sharing.”
I slide a hand to the back of her neck, palming it possessively as I wrap my other arm around her waist and pull her closer. “No cheating or sharing isn’t just a limit, Mia. I don’t do jealousy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t protect what is mine. You are mine. If another man so much as touches you without my permission, whether you want him to or not, he will die.”
“Like … you’d kill him?”
“Yes.”
She darts out her tongue, moistening her lips. My little pacifist is struggling with that concept.
“This is the man I am, sunshine. You sure you want to go all in with me?” Like she actually has a choice. She’s already mine, and there’s no chance in hell I’m letting her go.
Her eyes flicker over my face and she nestles closer. “I want all in.”
So we’re doing this. I stand, picking her up with me and wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Where are we going?” she asks, smiling up at me.
“Back to bed to continue working through our terms.”
A flush creeps over her neck.
“We still have some issues to iron out, don’t you think?” Not giving her a chance to answer, I seal my mouth over hers and carry her upstairs.
