BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Her breath hitched in her chest and her blood pounded as the scarf pressed in. As soon as she realized the pressure was there,
it was gone again. She faltered for a moment, but Master Jensen squeezed her ass, eliciting a yelp.
“Focus, Anna,” he admonished her.
“Yes, Master.”
She went back to fucking herself on him, using the slow, grinding rhythm she knew would drive him wild.
Again the scarf tightened, restricting her breath for just a moment longer than the first time. She looked at her master, her lips
parted to take the breath he held captive. Their gazes locked as he tightened the pressure for the third time, this time holding it
long enough that her chest heaved.
A spike of pleasure shot through her. Anna’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?” he asked, seeing her reaction.
“That felt...that felt good.”
He nodded once. “It’s restricting the oxygen flow to your brain. Carbon dioxide is accumulating and that’s what’s making it feel
good’. It’s like being at a high altitude.”
She listened vaguely, glad he knew the physiology, but not wanting to think about it too much, in case it distracted her from the
pleasure.
She could feel his fists on her back, knew he held the ends of the scarf there. It both thrilled and terrified her that he controlled
her so completely.
“Faster,” he growled, and Anna increased the speed of her hips.
He stole another breath from her, holding it long enough that her body spasmed, reacting to the denial with an illogical pleasure.
Giddiness swept through her.
“Faster,” he demanded again.
Anna braced her forearms on his shoulders, threw her head back and fucked him hard and fast. Her ass slapped his thighs and
the resulting pain was sweet pleasure.

He pulled the scarf tight around her throat.
“Come, Anna,” he demanded.
Anna’s whole body convulsed in pleasure. The split second of oxygen deprivation tricked her body into a heightened state of
pleasure. Her chest heaved, she could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. She was owned, controlled, pleasured and
worshiped. She trusted him completely. He mastered her, body and soul, and she owned him in returned. The scarf went slack
and his hands grabbed her hips, holding her still as he jackhammered up into her pussy, shouting as he came deep inside her.
Anna collapsed against his chest, the scarf still snug around her neck.
***
Xavier’s fingers tightened on the arm of the chair until the wood creaked. His palms tingled with the need to touch the beautiful
creature who’d just stepped into the playroom.
Mae was even more lovely in person than he remembered, and than her photos showed. Her skin was pale and creamy, making
her red hair gleam, but the photo must have been a few years old. In person she was more mature in her face, placing her in her
late rather than early twenties. Or perhaps it was the way she was dressed in the photo that made her seem younger. Tonight
she wore a short Asian-style robe. It had fallen on one side, leaving her breast exposed. Her nipple was a lovely shade of rose,
the tip hardened into a sweet little bud. A wide pink sash around her waist emphasized the curves of her hips. Her legs were
bare and she wore black shoes with white puffy things on the toes.
He wanted to rip the clothes from her and cane her ass and breasts until she begged him to fuck her.
Xavier closed his eyes and reined in his impulses. This was exactly why he couldn’t be paired with Mae. Hours of arguing with
Mistress Faith and he hadn’t gotten anywhere. He’d been tempted to walk away, forfeiting his membership, but Faith had
convinced him to at least meet with the sub, and trust that the rules of the game, and the rules of BDSM, would protect both of
them.
Xavier took that to mean that once the pretty Mae met with him she would run screaming from the room. Pre-scene it was the
submissive who held all the power, because the sub decided whether the Dom merited the trust needed to proceed. Mae would
refuse and he would be free to find another sub to play with for the limited amount of time he had here. Though technically if Mae
walked away, she’d be in violation of this ridiculous checklist game, Xavier had made Faith agree not to kick the submissive out if
she did indeed run from him.

What Xavier didn’t understand was why Faith was putting him through this. She knew he needed his time here to fight back the
darkness inside him. Forcing him to waste a night like this was cruel...which considering the source shouldn’t surprise him.
But whatever lesson Mistress Faith wanted to teach him, Xavier doubted she had any idea how truly torturous this was, because
though he and Mae were as different as silk and steel, there was something about her that called to him.
She was smiling slightly when she entered, but the longer she stood there in silence the more the expression faded. Good. He
wanted her scared enough to walk away. When she shifted her weight and clasped her hands together, Xavier decided it was
probably time to show her exactly what was going on. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he rose and stepped into the
light.
* * *
For the second time that day, Anna broke down. She sobbed, releasing the last bits of tension she held in her body. He freed her
from the cuffs and clamps, then laid them down and curled around her, holding and protecting her. When she rolled over to face
him, she could see the power and impact of what they’d done in the tense lines of his face. She kissed and stroked him, her
touches not meant to arouse but to calm. He laid his head on her breast, the tension slowly leaving his body. She rested her
hand on his back, feeling the scars there.
“They’re not sexy scars,” he said quietly.
He’d said it a million times before. She doubted he knew how much it revealed about his internal wounds.
“They mean you survived,” she replied simply.
Anna closed her eyes, going back to that waiting room. She remembered the moment they’d come for her, taking her into the
hospital, where she’d gotten her first look at the boy she loved. But it hadn’t been a boy who lay there, it had been a man, his
body wrapped in gauze, forty percent of him burned, the result of a helicopter crash.
In the eighteen months since they’d broken up, she’d landed the job she wanted. She’d even tried to date—but it hadn’t worked.
She found the men she met at the firm or at posh cocktail parties weak and insipid. She’d longed for her former boyfriend’s
strong hands—and she’d hated herself for choosing a career over a future. Though only in her mid-twenties, she’d started to feel
like her life was over.
She’d been rescued, given an outlet for those dark feelings by a senior partner in her firm, Ramon Leo. He’d noticed her disdain
for the men in their circle of acquaintances. He’d invited her out for drinks, plied her with expensive champagne, and asked her

about her love life. Too tired and drunk to care, she’d told him how much she missed a strong man.
The next weekend, he’d brought her to Las Palmas as a guest. Senior partner Ramon Leo turned in to Master Leo. He’d tutored
and guided her as she explored her submissive side. When she’d received the call from Camp Pendleton, Ramon Leo had been
one of the first people she’d told.
When she returned to work a week later, after making sure her ex-boyfriend was safely set up in a good hospital, she’d unloaded
on her boss, admitting that he was the reason she craved such strong men, and that it was killing her to see him so badly hurt.
Seeing her beloved again, and seeing him in such pain, had made the outlet Las Palmas gave her all the more important.
For a long painful year, she’d split her time between her job and her beloved’s recovery. One weekend a month she gave herself
over to Las Palmas, desperately needing to be mastered. It was the only way she’d managed to stay calm and in control the rest
of the time.
“What are you thinking about?” Master Jensen asked her.
“You.”
“Don’t. Don’t think about it. It’s over.”
It was amazing what a difference a few years could make. If someone had told her two years ago that she’d be junior partner at
her firm, a full member of Las Palmas, and that she’d be preparing to be bonded to the perfect Dom, she wouldn’t have believed
them. Two years ago, the future had been a terrifying prospect.
“How’s your neck?” he asked, kissing her.
“Fine.”
“And your ass?”
“Sore.”
He kissed her slow and deep.
“Anna?” he whispered against her cheek.
“Yes, Master?”

“I’m starving. Let’s go get dinner.”
Anna chuckled. She slid carefully off the bed, then went to the bathroom. When she came out, he was wearing jeans.
“Put something on. I’m done sharing you.”
Anna’s lips twitched. She went to her overnight bag and pulled out a pink and black bra, panty and garter set. Careful of her ass,
she got dressed. Master Jensen kissed the upper swell of her breast, then led her toward the door.