Am Iactuallyin danger?
After the comprehensive, hour-long video lecture that was sent to Mo this afternoon, followed quickly by the dozen or so documents we had to sign via DocuSign before we could even get the precise address for this event, I had been under the assumption that everything was safe. I believed that by consenting to this masked man, I could explore the deepest side of myself I’ve never dared to acknowledge—outside of private fantasies fueled by unhinged romance novels, of course.
But now I’m not so sure.
God,whyisn’t hesayinganything?
I squeeze my eyes shut as shame flushes hot through my chest, creeping up to my cheeks.What have I just done?
Did I just tell a complete stranger that I want him to hurt me?
Something is very wrong with me—
“Look at me,” he says, tightening the grip he has on my chin.
I open my eyes and wait for whatever he’s going to say. I’ve done this wrong. Maybe he’ll chastise me or kick me out. Maybe he’ll even laugh—
“Whatever you’re doing right now, I want you to stop. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard, the motion difficult with the way he has my head tilted back.
“Those thoughts, the way you’re second-guessing yourself, that stops right here, right now.”
I suck in a ragged breath.
“Tell me you understand.”
“I-I understand.”
He nods, shoulders rising and falling on a deep breath. God, he’s so broad. His skin is taut over thick, full muscles, bare from the waist up to the line of his full leather mask, which covers his face and jaw to his Adam’s apple. There’s a hint of dark beard stubble exposed, just below the mask, telling me my masked man has dark features, but I already knew that, didn’t I? His eyes are so dark beneath the shadows cast by his mask that I can barely make them out.
And yet, when he looks at me, I can feel his gazeeverywhere.
As alarming as it is to admit this, the moment he followed me in here and locked that door, all I felt was relief. Like I was truly safe for the first time since entering this massive, unfamiliar home.
That’s… wrong, isn’t it? I should have been afraid of him, of being trapped in this small space with a complete stranger—
“You need someone to take control, don’t you?”
I whimper, my entire body feeling lighter in response to the simple suggestion of someone else taking the reins for a bit. I’ve been holding everything together for so long—
“Say it.”
“Yes.” The word comes out louder than I intended. Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I want you to take control.”
He hums appreciatively and the sound is an odd combination of the hum emanating from his chest and thegarbled sound delivered through his mouth. It settles over me all the same, seeping into my chest with the warmth of a fire.
“You want me to take control of your mind.” He runs his fingertips from my hairline, down over my temple. “Your body.” Continuing his descent, he traces a line down the length of my throat, around the curve of my breast. “Your orgasms.”
I gasp and he chuckles.
His fingers move lower, slipping easily over the smooth satin of my dress as he makes his way down over the curve of my belly, settling just above my pelvis.
I swallow hard as I wait for him to continue his descent.
I hold my breath, suddenly desperate for him to keep exploring, touching, taking control.
When he remains still as a statue, just the heat of his palm pressing against my lower belly, a whimper slips past my lips.
