“May I take off your shirt?”
He sat forward and stripped it off for her. Eyes half-lidded, she checked him out.
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“Can I make a rule that you have to be naked in my presence?”
“My clothes are present for your safety.”
“For my safety? I think we’ve established I can handle your dick,” she said smugly.
“Good. It’ll be in your ass later.”
“Uh unh.”
He’d put a bigger plug into her ass this morning, and she’d whined and whimpered so much he’d almost come in his jeans.
“The plug I used this morning is almost my size.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Well, you’d better think accommodating thoughts because as soon as this is done, it’s my turn.” She opened her mouth to complain, but when he grabbed her throat she fell silent. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Maybe you could try just the tip?” She laughed nervously. “Just – oh fuck. You have to go slow, okay?”
“So you’re asking me to trust you, and yet you don’t trust me?”
“I trust you!” She made a sound of frustration, then another of terror. “Okay. Just – don’t hurt me there on purpose. Not the first time.”
“Understood.”
She got off his lap, one of her nipples grazing his cheek as she rose. Her intake of breath insinuated it was accidental.
Muscles in his shoulders bunched again as she walked behind him. He stared into the fire, willing himself not to overreact when her hands came back to him.
“I’m going to put my hands on you again. On your shoulders. Ready?”
He nodded tightly, holding his breath.
Her fingers came down gently, skimming along his skin and drawing goose bumps up in their wake. He fought panic.
Minnow. Her hands. Her scent.
She started to massage his shoulders with long, sensual strokes, and he focused on pretending he was normal for her. It usually worked, more or less. He could manage with this too.
Her thumbs found knots she’d created and warmed them, then worked at easing them away.
“So no one ever did this for you before?”
“No. Rodrigo has tried setting me up with friends of his a few times, but –” He broke off as she got too close to his neck. He gave an irritated jerk of his head, but she was already moving away from the spot. Minnow. It was Minnow, not some stranger. He owned her. She was his. She knew him better than anyone. He could ask her to stop, and she would stop. She knew he was fucked up, so there was no pressure to hide it.
Bit by bit he forced himself to relax back into the chair, and into her hands.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could trust someone enough to do this for you before now. Touch is so important for a person’s soul.” She worked for a few more minutes, and every time he was about to tell her to stop, she somehow knew and would move away from whatever was making him uncomfortable. “It makes me wonder how you managed when you were small. There’ve been all sorts of studies showing that babies who don’t get enough touch will fail to thrive. Someone must have taken care of you before you came here. You didn’t give up and die. You’ve been through a lot, but you’ve come so far.”
He thought of the smiling face he dreamed about sometimes. A servant, maybe? It was hard to say.