Trust me.
My heart thudded, and my muscles tensed, my body balancing on the edge of fight or flight. But I didn’t have to choose. I didn’t want to run, and I didn’t have to fight. So, I opened the box and did as the note said: I trusted Lucian.
Now, I stood in a short black dress, barely more than a slip, meant to fall effortlessly from my body. Simple wrapping for the diamond lingerie beneath it, acting more as decoration for my dusky nipples and smooth pussy than covering them.
Cool metal pressed against my heated skin as I took in my simple makeup and nude lips, wondering what awaited me tonight. Three days ago, we sat across from each other at the dining room table he’d tied me to weeks before and went through the checklist with the same methodical precision used in a million-dollar deal.
“Anal play with toys?” he asked.
“Green.”
“Anal penetration with fingers?”
“Green.”
“Anal penetration with my cock?”
“Green.”
“Nipple clamps?”
“Green.”
“Voyeurism?”
“Green.”
“Exhibitionism? Partially dressed, fully naked, foreplay, or fucking?”
“…G-green.”
“Aspen…”
“Green.”
“Are you sure?”
“Green.”
“Okay. Oral sex? Giving and/or receiving?”
“Green.”
“Allowing one or more people to join us during foreplay or sex?”
“Yellow.”
“What makes you hesitate?”
“Would they be touching you or me?”
“Either.”
“I don’t want to watch you with someone else. Red.”
“And if I want to watch someone touch you? If I want them to help me touch you?”
“Umm.”
