"Real submission. Not the act." I crouch in front of her. "You're giving me this because you need to let go. Because the woman you've been can't exist in this room."
"I don't know how to be anyone else." Her voice breaks.
"Then tonight you begin to learn." I stroke her cheek. "No more of the act."
Her whole body trembles. The terror and relief of finally being seen.
Standing, I move to the table, pick up the blindfold. "This will help. No visual cues to analyze. Just sensation and my voice."
"Yes, Sir."
The blindfold secures over her eyes. Her breath catches as the world disappears.
"Now," I say, voice low and dark, "let's find out who you really are when you stop lying to yourself."
7
SIMONE
The blindfold steals everything except sensation. I can't see Luc, can't track his movements, can't anticipate what comes next. My world narrows to the sound of his breathing, the floor beneath my knees, the vulnerability of being naked and kneeling for him.
"Color?" His voice comes from somewhere to my left.
"Green." The word comes out steadier than I feel.
"Good girl." Footsteps circle me slowly. I fight the instinct to turn my head, track his location. "Stay there. Listen. Don't interrupt."
"Yes, Sir."
"I’m binding your wrists. Then positioning you on the bed." He pauses. "See how well you follow commands when you can't negotiate."
My pulse kicks up. This is different from anything Vincent ever did. Vincent let me direct, let me control the parameters, let me stop when the endorphins hit their peak and I'd had enough. Luc's not offering that option.
"Pain. Pleasure. Whatever breaks through the act." His hand settles on my shoulder, warm and certain. "Use your safewordonly if you need to. That is the only control that still rests with you. Clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Stand."
I rise on shaky legs. The blindfold throws off my balance, makes me hyperaware of my nakedness, the cool air against my skin. Luc's hands guide me forward—not roughly, but with absolute certainty that I'll follow where he leads.
"Stop." His hands leave me. "Arms behind your back. Wrists crossed."
I obey, feeling the vulnerability of the position. My breasts are exposed, thrust forward by the arch of my spine. My body is completely open to whatever he wants to do. The air conditioning raises goosebumps across my skin.
The rope slides against my wrists—soft, well-maintained, the kind of quality equipment Dominion stocks in every private room. He wraps it with practiced efficiency, each loop deliberate and controlled. The rope whispers against my skin as he creates the column tie, cinching my wrists together without cutting off circulation.
I can feel the shift as the rope tightens—not painfully, but securely enough that I know I won't be freeing myself. Each pass of the rope reminds me that I chose this. That I said yes. That I'm giving him control I've never truly given anyone before.
"Too tight?" His breath is warm against my ear, his body close enough that I can feel his heat.
"No, Sir."
His hands skim up my arms, across my shoulders, fingertips trailing over skin in a touch that's both possessive and assessing. Testing my reactions. Mapping my body. "Walk. Three steps."
I take three careful steps, trusting him not to let me walk into anything. My shins bump against something soft—the bed.
"Kneel. Edge of the bed. Face the headboard."
