I stand up taller and lift my chin. “Green, Sir.”
He grunts his approval, then cups my chin and tilts my head upward. “Good girl.”
I shiver from the satisfied tone of his voice, obvious even with the rumble of that voice modulator.
“Your body is something else.”
My cheeks heat as I imagine what he sees. The hip dips I spent most of my formative years hating. The roundness of my lower stomach I’ve never been able to get rid of, no matter how many times I yo-yo dieted or how thin I became in my early twenties when I succumbed to the negative body image battle raging inside my head.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, startling me with his sudden closeness. He’s directly behind me, not touching me at all, but now that I know he’s there I realize I should have known the moment he moved closer. My body is abuzz with the anticipation of that large body pressing up against mine.
“Answer me,” he purrs.
“Yes, Dominus.”
It’s taken me a long time to accept this figure, but I’m not going to bore him with the details of what thatyesmeans to me, or what it took to get me to this point.
He circles me slowly, and I strain to locate him by hearing alone. I think he’s in front of me—
“I’d like to touch you now.”
I startle, then roll my lips to keep from giggling becauseyes, please.
“Is something funny?”
I give my head the subtlest of shakes. “Green, Sir.”
“Cute.” He trails something firm over my cheek, from my temple down to my lips, and I pick up the distinct scent of leather. “Then why are your lips twitching on a smile?”
I remain quiet.
“Such a defiant subbie today.” He trails the object downward, tracing the line of my collarbones from one shoulder to the other. “Answer me.”
“I’m not sure what the question is. I was just trying not to giggle.”
“About…?”
I swallow hard. “How very much I want you to touch me. Sir.”
“Hm.”
Silence is all that follows that thoughtful sound, and I lick my lips, anticipating his next move. Will he give me what I want? Make me wait for it? Smack me again with whatever toy he has in his hand?
“Open your legs.”
I step outward, positioning my feet shoulders’ width apart.
“This might hurt.”
Oh shit.I brace myself, squeezing my eyes shut behind the blindfold.
Smack!
“Fuck,” I whine, unable to keep quiet because the pain radiating from the soft flesh of my inner right thigh is far worse than any of the slaps before.
“Color.”
I grimace. “Green?”
