The Mistress
Page 113

“What do you want to do?” Søren asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what the protocol is.”
“We should talk about your limits.”
She shrugged and smiled.
“Limits?”
“Limits. What you don’t want me to do. The lines that you don’t want crossed, what are they?”
She stared at him like he’d started to speak a foreign language or had broken into song. Her lines she wouldn’t let him cross?
“I walked with you to your death. You knew you were going to have to die for Nora and you went, anyway. I saw you do it. There is nothing I wouldn’t trust you to do to me. I don’t care if that’s the wrong answer. It’s the truth. And it’s the only answer I have.”
Søren sighed and took her by the shoulders.
“If you won’t tell me what you don’t want, perhaps you could tell me what you do want.”
His hands moved from her shoulders to the front of her shirt. He unbuttoned the top button. Grace stiffened but made no protest. Nora had warned her, after all.
“What I want...that might be a loaded question.”
“I’m not saying I’ll give you everything you want. But I might let you try to earn it.”
He smiled at her, a smile so arrogant and dominant she felt her knees weakening.
Another button came undone, then another.
She’d asked Nora about how it would all proceed once things started.
He’ll beat you with various toys probably, Nora had said, as if getting beaten were nothing more than a game. Anywhere from a few minutes to a couple hours, whatever you can take.
Nervously Grace posed one final question.
And how do we...I mean, how does he...finish?
Grace, my dear, God created the female back and made it such an easy target for one very good reason.
“Tell me something you want, Grace,” he said as he reached the bottom button, “or the night ends here.”
“I want you to kiss me,” she said, surprised by her boldness.
“Is that so?” He undid the last button and opened her shirt. With torturous slowness he dragged it over her shoulders and down her arms.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to guess how many people I’ve kissed on the mouth in my life?” He ran his hand up and down her side, barely grazing her breast with his thumb.
“Probably as few as I have.”
He laid his hand in the center of her chest. She couldn’t believe she stood naked in front of this man, this priest. Even in the black jeans and black T-shirt he still seemed like a priest to her. He had a holiness about him, a sacred quality. No matter what happened between them tonight, she knew nothing could change the way she saw him. His sanctity was immutable as truth or beauty.
“Tell me how to earn it, and I will.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” she repeated. “Of what?”
Søren stepped away, squatted down to the black bag and unzipped it.
“You have your...equipment with you?” she asked.
“I’m a man. I always have my equipment with me.”
She blushed.
“You know what I mean.”
“I didn’t pack any ‘equipment,’ as you call it, before coming here. This is some of Kingsley’s gear he keeps in the car. Thankfully Kingsley has flawless taste.”
“In what?”
“Floggers. Canes. Singletails. Massive toy collection.”
Søren stood up and she saw floggers in his hands, several of them.
“Floggers? Do those hurt?”
“Very much so,” he said, laying them out on the bed. “My niece is in this house so try not to scream please.”
“I’ll try. But...” She looked at him and saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re doing it again. You’re playing with my mind.”
“Foreplay, Grace.” He came back to her and lightly bit her shoulder. “Mind-play first. Then body.”
He brushed her hair off her back and swept it over her shoulder. When he laid a hand on her back at the base of her neck, Grace inhaled and closed her eyes. So strange to have another man’s hands on her body. Ian had barely touched her those three awful nights they spent together. It was nothing but tab A into slot B. That had been actual sex and it had felt less intimate than Søren’s hand on such a vulnerable part of her.
“I’m not going to tie you up, not yet, anyway. Cross your arms in front of your face and lean forward against the bedpost. Rest your forehead on your arms. Don’t forget to breathe.”
She did as instructed and took comfort in the calm authority in his voice.
“A flogging will not injure you.” He lightly stroked her back from neck to hip. “At worst I might break the skin a little. The pain is sharp and flat at the same time as opposed to the pain from a singletail, which is sharp and pointed. Nothing I do to you tonight will debilitate you or leave you scarred. But it will hurt and it will hurt very much. Do you understand that, Grace?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll start when you tell me you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” she breathed, a tremor in her voice.
“Good. We won’t bother with safe words. Eleanor and I have them because she enjoys being overpowered during sex and we often play hard. She likes to say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ for the pleasure of having me ignore her protests. Only when she says her safe word, do I actually stop. For you, if you say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ I will honor your wishes.”