Page 75 of Axe Marks the Spot

“I promise I’ll be good, Sir.”

Despite her questions and newness to this dynamic, when she says things like that, I’m reminded she’s not only a quick learner, but a natural. Lindsey has submission in her bones. She just needed the right partner to nurture it, to give her a safe space to lean into it. I’m happy as fuck that right partner is me.

“Promises are empty, baby. I need you to show me you’ll be good.”

“Tell me how to show you, Sir.”

Her eagerness makes my dick harder, and it takes everything in me not to touch myself. If I was a less-practiced Dom, I would have. But this isn’t about me. This is about Lindsey and building our new dynamic.

“Say please,” I command.

“Please, Sir.”

I make a satisfied rumbling noise in my chest as a response and study Lindsey’s features through the screen. What I wouldn’t give to be with her now, to feel her warm breath on my cheek and her soft body against mine as I held her open for me. Made her touch herself again and again while I pinned her thighs open so she couldn’t close her legs.

I wet my lips, hoping she’ll want to do in-person sessions. I could make that dream a reality if she’s open to it, but this will do for tonight.

“Pausing to check in, Lindsey. Green, yellow, or red?”

“Green,” she says easily.

“I’m not going to ask you to undress, but please let me know if anything goes too far, yes?”

I can see a lovely flush rise from the collar of her T-shirt even through the screen. I wonder if her entire body flushes that rosy-pink color when she’s turned on. I bet it does.

“I will, Sir.”

“Good, do you have a coffee table in front of you or somewhere you can put your laptop so I can see you but your hands will be free?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do that then position yourself in front of the screen with your legs spread open so I can see you.”

Lindsey blinks at me as if I asked her to strip and bend over, ass to me.

“Too much?” I ask. She shakes her head, and I snap my fingers twice. “Then get to it, baby. I won’t ask again.”

The sound along with the command throws her into action. She places her laptop down on the table, and a second later, she must put a book or something under it because the angle changes.

She sits back on the couch and positions herself like I asked. She’s wearing tiny pajama shorts that leave little to the imagination, and when she spreads her legs, I see a peek of underwear.

“Turn on the side lamp; I want to see you better.”

Lindsey hesitates, and a flash of anger zips through my veins. Not at her but at whatever thought made her pause. I don’t technically need her to turn on the lamp—there’s a soft, dimmed overhead light that gives me enough to see—but the lamp would allow me to view all of her, including the color of her underwear and the dips and valleys of her curves. All things I want to appreciate.

“Lindsey,” I say, bringing her attention back to me. When our eyes meet, I make sure my facial features are soft. “If you don’t want to turn on the lamp, you don’t have to. But I’d love to see your beautiful body better. It would make me very happy.”

Lindsey’s shoulders ease. Trepidation I wish wasn’t there is still on her face, but I see the instant she makes her choice. She shifts on the couch to turn on the lamp, and the light floods over her, highlighting her curves the way I hoped.

“That’s my good girl,” I praise. “Now back into your position, legs spread for me.”

She does as I ask, body still tense. When her thighs part and her shorts creep up, they expose the sides of her underwear. They’re a pretty pink that reminds me of the flush of her cheeks.

My erect dick aches, but I ignore it. Ideas of things I want with Lindsey in the future start to rack up in my mind, though.

“Take a breath for me, baby,” I demand.

Lindsey does, but her shoulders still don’t completely ease the way I’d like. I study her further, noticing her pupils are shifting as if she’s attempting not to look at the part of the screen where her image resides. That makes me angry, too.