“Which is why we recommend never going anywhere with a Dom you don’t know. Safe, sane, and consensual.” There was a pause. “Did someone hurt you, Lacey?”
She stiffened. “No. Nobody hurt me. I haven’t been the victim of abuse or anything. I just think that a woman on her own needs to be careful about who she trusts. Giving up control can make you weak. It can make you do things you wouldn’t normally do because you’re not thinking properly.”
She pulled away from him, and this time he let her. That wasn’t a pang of disappointment she felt. Really, it wasn’t.
“Where’s my dress?”
“Xanthe put it here.” He pulled it off the back of the sofa and then stood and helped her get into the dress. She held up her hair as he pulled up the zipper then kissed the side of her neck.
“I enjoyed tonight, Lacey, thank you.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She glanced down, feeling a little embarrassed.
“I’m not letting you ignore me again, though.”
Her head popped up, her eyes widening at his stern tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you’ve been avoiding me because of the feelings you have for me. Maybe those feelings scare you. Maybe you think you can’t trust me, but if you avoid everything that scares you, you’ll never live. And I don’t know about you, but these feelings I have for you are stronger than anything I’ve felt before.”
“We hardly know each other.”
“Then we’ll spend time getting to know each other. And once you know me better you’ll come to trust me.”
“But you like this stuff.” She waved her hand around. “And I really don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”
He thought over her words. The fact that she hadn’t said she didn’t like it or didn’t want to engage in BDSM was a good sign. He wasn’t certain why she even thought she had to be good at it. No one expected her to be perfect.
“There’s no real right or wrong.”
“There isn’t?”
“It’s not so black and white. Each couple is different. Some enjoy high protocol.” He nodded over at a slightly-built Domme dressed in a tight, black corset and long, tight, black pants standing at the bar chatting to the bartender. A male sub sat at her feet, his head lowered, his body language peaceful. “Others are more casual. Some people enjoy pain, others don’t. There’s a whole range of people here and no matter what their kink—within reason, there are some things we don’t allow—it doesn’t matter. It’s all acceptable. So long as you and your Dom agree and know what each other wants out of your relationship, you can’t do this wrong. For instance, some Doms like brats, others don’t.”
“Do you?”
“Like a brat? Not really. Not unless it’s role play. I’m quite fond of naughty school girl and the teacher.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Really?”
“Yes, and if she was really naughty, I might have to order her to bend over my desk, pull up her too-short skirt and smack her ass with my ruler.”
“Yeah?” Her face was flushed, but not with embarrassment.
“Have you got any fantasies?” he asked in a low voice.
She shook her head frantically. So, she did have a few fantasies, she just wasn’t ready to divulge them.
“What about other role play?” she asked. “Is there anything else you enjoy?”
“Oh, I can think of plenty.”
Her eyes widened. “Like what?”
“There’s always the pirate and the naughty wench. That’s a classic. Or the Arabic prince and the naughty harem girl.”
Her heart was beating faster, her eyes wide, her body tense. It seemed she was very interested in role play.