The Secret Life of a Submissive and Bonds of Love: 2-book BDSM Erotica Collection. Sarah K

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       Chapter Eight

      ‘But seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already.’

       Waiter Rant

      When Max finally left I put on a bathrobe, made a pot of tea and went to sit in the garden. Despite the bright sunshine I felt shivery and feverish. One of the last things Max had said as he was leaving was that I should eat something, which made me smile. Of all the words of support and encouragement I was hoping for, ‘You should have a sandwich’ wasn’t one of them.

      As he slipped on his jacket, he said, ‘I’ll ring you this evening. And if you want to talk to me before that then all you have to do is call. I’ll pick up.’ He paused and traced the line of my jaw with his fingertip. ‘I’m not going to play you or make you wait or make you doubt either me or yourself. You don’t have to agonize about what I think of you, or whether I’ll ring you or talk to you, or whether something wasn’t right. It was perfect, beautiful – and you’re beautiful.’

      I smiled, and leant into his caress. I felt weepy.

      Max leaned in closer and kissed me on the cheek. I shivered.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      I nodded, oblivious to the answering-with-words rule. He tipped my face up towards him so that he could look into my eyes. ‘Do you want to talk now? I can stay if you want me to.’

      ‘No, I’m fine. Really, truly,’ I said, with a shake of the head. It was true. I needed to think about this on my own, not talk it over. ‘But you’re right. It was a big step.’

      He waited.

      ‘And I’m really OK with it. It’s what I wanted – what I want,’ I said. ‘It’s just a lot to take in.’

      ‘Do you want me to make you that sandwich?’

      I laughed. ‘No, really. I’m fine. Please, go. I’ll talk to you later.’

      ‘OK.’

      Max looked so innocuous as he picked up his leather holdall and made his way to the door. No one would guess what was in it, nor what this tall, distinguished man in his beautifully cut suit had spent the afternoon doing to me.

      When he had gone, I started to cry.

      I suppose I was in shock. I’d taken a huge first step after a lifetime of anticipation; finally all the things I had fantasized and dreamt about had happened – were happening. Was it good? Yes, better than I could have hoped. Was it as I had imagined? No, it wasn’t. Real-life sex and BDSM aren’t seamless and wordless, or painless; it’s a journey towards finding the things you want and desire, not a destination in itself. And I knew that if I wanted it then this was just the start.

      I went into the kitchen and made a sandwich. Max was right – it did make me feel better.

      One of the things that make BDSM such a compelling game – and different from the majority of other relationships – is that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, a sub and Dom always share a secret. Whatever appears to be happening on the surface, there is almost always something else going on beneath that surface. It is fun, it builds trust, and it is totally addictive.

      After we had met a few times at my place, Max suggested that we go out together rather than just play on home ground. He arranged to come and pick me up from my house, having emailed explicit instructions about what I was to wear for our date.

      He’d booked us a table at a fabulous restaurant on the north Norfolk coast. It was under new management and newly refurbished, had been in the Sunday papers and was somewhere I’d been wanting to go to since it had re-opened. I wasn’t exactly sure how Max had managed to get us a table on a Friday evening, and I certainly wasn’t complaining, but once we actually arrived I wasn’t so sure.

      As we pulled into the car park Max looked across at me and smiled. ‘All ready?’

      I raised my eyebrows and pulled a face. I was so nervous that I couldn’t speak.

      He grinned. ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘You’ll be fine. You wanted to come here, remember. And who wouldn’t? I read the reviews.’

      I’d like to say that I nodded but I didn’t. I couldn’t remember a time as an adult when I’d felt so nervous or so excited, and besides I was getting to grips with the rules. No speaking unless I was given permission.

      Since that first meeting at my house we had met up three or four times to continue my training. We had spoken dozens of times on the phone, and he would text me at odd times during the day. One of the things I was beginning to appreciate was that whenever we spoke Max was always the same, calm, funny, quick – and nothing I asked him seemed to faze him or wrong-foot him, whether it was about BDSM or about his personal life. It was a quality I really valued and it made trusting him and opening up to him all the easier.

      Tonight he looked great. He was wearing a dark suit cut to make the most of his broad shoulders, a crisp white shirt, red tie and cufflinks. He looked gorgeous – distinguished – and smelt wonderful. He was the perfect dinner date: polite, attentive and confident without being pushy or arrogant. People always treated Max as if he was somebody.

      He got out of the car first, taking a gift bag from the back seat. Then he came round to my side of the car, opened the car door for me and took my hand. It was a warm evening but I was trembling. He tucked my hand up over his arm. I was a little unsteady in new high heels, so we made slow progress across the gravel. I’d spent hours getting ready for tonight: my hair looked great and my make-up was flawless.

      Inside the restaurant it was even warmer. Prime time, Friday evening and the place was jumping. The foyer was full of fresh flowers. There were people in fabulous clothes sitting up at the bar drinking cocktails and laughing. I could hear the muffled hubbub of conversation from the dining room and the sound of cutlery on china. The place was elegant, smart, full. My СКАЧАТЬ