BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

The tip of the crop tapped the underside of her chin. Trembling, Anna looked up. The Master dropped the cuffs to the floor and
again gestured using two fingers.
Sub sign language.
When Anna had first been introduced to the world of BDSM she’d set out to learn everything she could about it, including taking
an online class on “sub sign language” designed to be used to maintain secrecy in the vanilla world or when the Dom preferred
silence. She’d never been with a Master who used it, but she had a bad feeling she might have indicated that she knew it on her
BDSM Checklist.
Anna slowly rose to her feet, guessing as to what the gesture meant. The tip of the crop slid down her breasts. The Dom
motioned again, this time raising pinky and thumb. Anna bit her lip, then clasped her hands together at the small of her back.
Crack. The crop struck the bare skin of her thigh above the top of her stocking. Anna sucked in a little breath as he repeated the
gesture. This time she raised her arms, lacing her fingers together behind her neck. The crop rose and Anna winced, hating that
she’d made such a terrible first impression on this Dom. First she’d been hesitant to obey an order, now she wasn’t obeying
correctly.
He touched the tip of the crop to the center of her forehead. Anna blinked, then closed her eyes. The folded leather slid down her
cheek, over her chest to her right breast. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d gotten it right. Her whole body was on alert.
She’d forgotten how stimulating the fear of the unknown could be, and this Master was a dangerous mystery.
He took two steps and then the crop was gone, replaced by hands. He cupped and kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric
of her corset and Anna couldn’t help but moan. The Dom slid his fingers beneath the material, lifting her right breast and then
folding her corset down, creating a shelf for her now exposed breast, presenting it to him.
At the touch of the cool air her nipple beaded, and Anna wished she could squeeze her legs together to address the aching in
her pussy. The danger this Dom presented and the unknown pleasures and pain that lay before her had her nearly at the point of
climax.
The Dom walked away. Anna kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. She tried to stay in the moment, to be the
good submissive she’d been trained to be, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from shifting to Master Jensen. Would he be angry
that another man was using her? He would. He’d be furious that anyone else had touched her, but he knew, as she did, that
being a part of this lifestyle meant that until they made their relationship formal there were no guarantees.

If she’d been a different kind of woman—a woman who thought pain had no place in sex and that bruises from a lover’s hands
were a sign of danger—she would have run screaming from Las Palmas rather than let another man touch her. But she was a
submissive, and when she gave herself over to this life she did it wholly, and without reservation. She’d forgotten that for a
moment, but wouldn’t make that mistake again. Her checklist would indicate that she was willing to play with any Dom, because
she’d completed the list and set her personal limits before Master Jensen entered her life, and before they’d developed the
relationship they now had.
Jensen was the Master. If he didn’t want her to be used by someone else, it was up to him to stop it.
That thought brought a little smile to her lips. Her job was to submit and obey—she shouldn’t have to worry or plan. She got to
leave those things behind when she drove up the palm lined driveway.
The Dom returned, standing so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body. He stroked her right breast, the leather of his
gloves buttery soft. He pinched her nipple, twisting and then lifting it until she gasped and rose onto her toes. He released her,
leaving her right nipple throbbing and her left aching for want of the same treatment. Something cool touched the inner swell of
her breast, tracing a path up to her collar bone and then down the other side. Anna wanted to open her eyes, but she obediently
kept them closed. What had he applied to her breast?
He moved away and she heard the door open. Anna froze. Had he left, or someone else entered?
“Open your eyes to see your letter,” a female voice said.
Anna opened her eyes and looked around. She could see the shadowed outline of a woman kneeling five feet in front of her. The
Dom was nowhere in sight.
Anna looked down at her bare right breast. It took her a minute to understand what the red lines painted there represented. Her
lips twitched.
“A scarlet letter.” The painted ‘A’ glistened against her pale skin.
“Please position yourself on the St. Andrews cross,” the woman said.
Anna kept her hands behind her head, turned, and with a slow, graceful walk went over to the leather covered “X.” The bottoms
of the leg portions ended in padded platforms. Anna positioned her back against the cross and then stepped up onto the
platforms. It spread her legs wide, enough that there was no way to pretend she was anything other than on display. She
unlinked her fingers and raised her arms, laying them along the upper pieces.

The woman had followed her, and when she stepped into the light Anna could see she too was a sub and naked except for a
body chain that started in a choker around her neck, and draped and swaged its way down to her pussy. Clamps on her nipples
and pussy lips helped hold the jewelry in place.
The dark haired sub attached straps around Anna’s ankles, thighs, waist, ribs, upper arms and wrists. When she was done, the
sub turned and walked to the door, slipping out.
Anna was left alone to contemplate her situation. The St. Andrew’s cross leaned back slightly, and the center supported her
back. On either side of her were large rectangular boxes, which she knew contained the mechanisms that allowed the cross to
rotate from upright to flat and then to upside down, depending on how the Dom wanted to use the sub.
A minute passed, then five. Anna struggled to keep from screaming. If Master Jensen were here, he’d take one look at her and
know what she needed—a good, hard fuck. She closed her eyes and imagined he was there, his rugged, scarred body naked
from the waist up, his stubbled cheek scraping hers as he leaned in to demand that she beg to be fucked. When she did, he’d rip
open his jeans and thrust his long, hard cock into her.
She was so lost in the fantasy that she didn’t register the sound of returning footsteps until they were close.