Chapter 21 #2
By the time he finally pulled his fingers out I was shaking, a confusing mix of relief and desperate need pulsing through me. He always fucks me in the morning, but there are no orgasms. Would he allow one since I didn’t get any the night before?
My asshole throbbed in time with my heartbeat — and my clit — while I watched him wipe his fingers on a baby wipe like he’d just finished a routine chore.
“Permission to release your legs.”
I let them down slowly, wincing despite the relief. My entire lower torso felt used and tender, and the knowledge that this was only the beginning of the day made my breath catch again.
He leaned over me and kissed my nose. My forehead.
“You have to be starving. Let’s head down and work on breakfast. Permission to stop over in the bathroom. Probably want to pat your cunt with tissue instead of wiping, this morning. Don’t want to accidentally wipe any salve off your asshole.”
Part of me was disappointed he wasn’t going to fuck me this morning, but he wasn’t wrong about how hungry I was, so I decided at least he was seeing to one of my needs.
And okay, the salve on my asshole had made it feel better, but shit, it’d hurt while he’d put it on.
He stood, stepped into shorts, grabbed his phone, stepped to the door, and looked back. “Don’t forget to stay on your toes, slave.”
And then he was gone.
When I made it downstairs, walking on my damned toes, he already had the steaks out and salted, and he was cracking eggs into a bowl.
“I want two pieces of toast,” he said without looking up. “Add however much you want, and grab whatever preserves you want from the fridge. You probably want coffee, so get that started, too.”
Had I spoken yet this morning? I wasn’t sure, so I said, “Yes, Sir.”
It felt odd, not having the waist cincher on, but the crazy thing is… having to walk on my toes helped. I mean, I hated it, and my calves were loudly protesting, but I was his slave in the kitchen this early in the day, not his submissive.
And yeah, that’s kind of how I’ve started breaking the day apart. I mind him all day, but I also have some autonomy. He respects my mind and my wants when we aren’t in high-protocol.
Being off the schedule had me completely off-kilter, but I tried hard to act as normal as possible.
I put a towel across the seat of my chair because no way was I breaking the no naked cunts on the furniture rule, but I waited until he was seated and had motioned to my chair with a casual, “Permission,” before I sat.
And then tried hard not to whine, but I couldn’t stop the wince.
“Did you have any issues giving yourself the enemas yesterday?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, Sir.”
“How bad did you wish you could pull your vibrator out and use it during the process?”
Shit, I didn’t want to answer that, but I met his gaze and said, “Really, really badly, Sir.”
He’d want details, so I gave them before he asked, “My hands were doing it on your orders, so it was kind of the same as you doing it, only…” I sighed. “It’s complicated, Sir, but I hated it, for the record.”
“But your cunt and that little clitty of yours disagreed,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, so I didn’t respond.
“If you weren’t trapped here, would you’ve stayed yesterday? Or would you’ve climbed into your car and left at some point?”
I felt my eyes go wide at the question. Never, not once, had it occurred to me to back out of it.
I’d seen it on the calendar and watched it grow nearer.
I’d known it was coming and hadn’t asked for time outside of power exchange to talk about it.
Granted, he’d never given me a way to do that, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t demand it and get it.
“No, Sir. Never. If I wasn’t onboard with it, I’d have told you long before yesterday.
I’m not following your orders because I have nowhere else to go.
First off, if this wasn’t working for me, I’d tell you, Sir, and you’d send me back to my own bedroom and end it — you told me as much from the start.
And if you didn’t?” I took a breath to finish.
“I’d find another place to hide. I’m here because I need shelter from people who will torture me for information and then kill me and dispose of my body so it’s never found, but that doesn’t have anything to do with what we’re doing while I’m here.
” I realized how long of a sentence that’d been, so I added, “Sir.”
He gave a nod. “Good answer, and yes, if this isn’t working for you, the protection arrangement doesn’t end. You go back to your own bedroom and get to clean my house in regular clothes.”
We ate in silence a few minutes, and he asked, “How do you feel now, knowing that when you give up your safeword, screaming it does nothing?”
I looked down, remembered I’d annoy him by answering without looking at him, and met his gaze again. “Relieved, Sir.”
Another nod, and then, “How did it feel last night, when it didn’t work?”
“Terrifying, Sir.”
“Gonna need more, slave.”
“I couldn’t take it. Truly couldn’t, Sir. Or, that’s what I thought. You were holding me down and hurting me so fucking much, and I couldn’t make it stop. I’d have done just about anything to make it stop.”
“So, you weren’t testing me?”
“I don’t think so. It’s possible that was some of it. I mean, I really didn’t think you’d stop, but I had to try, Sir. You’re big on rules, and you keep your word, but I still had to try.”
“I’m not looking for a pat, simple answer here, slave. Take a few minutes to think about it if you need to, but I want absolute truth that maybe you haven’t even admitted to yourself yet.” He paused a second to let that sink in before asking, “What did last night change between us?”