BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Beth took a step toward him, only to be pulled up short by the chains. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I haven’t told anyone that story before, though plenty of people at Las Palmas know about what happened.”
“That’s why collar is on your hard limits list?”
“Yes. I’m one of the reasons Las Palmas has an alternative. There’s too much potential emotional baggage with a collar.”
Beth nodded. Partners or groups who wanted to be formally recognized as being in an exclusive relationship within the club had
to be bonded. Often that meant collaring too, but bonding was actually a formal arrangement between the parties.
There were things she wanted to say, should say—that she was sorry for asking him to collar her, that if she’d known she
wouldn’t have asked, that she’d never been happier as a submissive than she was with him.
But the words wouldn’t come, stuck behind a wall of awkwardness Beth would never lose, so instead she responded in a way
she hoped he’d understand. Turning, she bent, resuming her position, waiting for him to continue caning her.
He didn’t react, and Beth’s stomach clenched with embarrassment and regret. Just as she was about to stand up, his hands
cupped her hips. He stepped up behind her, and even through his pants she could feel the heat of his cock against her ass.
“Beth.” Her name was a plea, a pledge, on his lips.
“Yes, Master?”
He moved away, and she wasn’t surprised when she heard a faint whistle, followed by a line of fiery pain as he struck her for a
third time.
This time she whimpered. “Thank you, Master.”
“Don’t. You don’t have to say that.”
“But I mean it.”
“Why?”

“Because I know after this you’re going to fuck me while you choke me and we’re both going to come. Then we’ll do something
else, and we’ll come some more and I won’t have to worry about whether I’m pleasing you, or being a good submissive. That’s
all I want, and everything I need.”
The cane struck again, this blow harder than all the others, and Beth screamed, throwing her head back, tears in her eyes, but
the trembling that wracked her wasn’t just from pain. Then he was there, his big body huddled around hers, his now-naked hips
pressed against her abused ass, one hand on her back keeping her bent forward, while the other slid around her neck, pulling
her head up.
Beth sucked in air, trying to process all the things she was feeling—pain from the caning, arousal because he’d caned her,
anticipation from his naked skin against hers, delicious trepidation from his hand around her throat.
His hips shifted, his cock finding its way to the entrance to her sex. Fingers tightened around her throat as he thrust in. Beth
sucked in air—she could still breathe, but she couldn’t ignore or dismiss his hold on her, his control of her body.
Her pussy clenched in pleasure as his cock filled her. He was long and hard, just what she needed inside her.
“Beth.” Still holding her by the neck, he used his other hand to jerk down the bustier until her breasts sprung free. Fingers closed
over her aching nipples, plucking the tight buds.
“Master.” It was nothing more than a whisper, but he growled in apparent pleasure and started fucking her in earnest.
Beth was buffeted by sensations—pain and pleasure chief among them. It took her a moment to realize she was fighting him, not
physically, but emotionally, so focused on sorting out what she was feeling and what was happening that she hadn’t given herself
over.
All she had to do was trust him, give in and submit.
With a sigh she did exactly that—letting go of her anger at him, at herself. Releasing her worry and need to dissect what was
happening.
“That’s it,” he whispered, as if he understood. Maybe he did. He knew her in a way no one else did, or ever had.
“I want to feel you come.”
She couldn’t respond, the pleasure and his hold on her robbing her of breath. Instead, Beth let her body tell him what he needed
to know. When he pinched her right nipple hard, twisting the bud to the point of delicious pain, she tipped over that glittering

edge, falling into the delicious darkness of pleasure.
Behind her, James groaned, jackhammering into her fluttering pussy as he too came.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”
Beth opened one eye, looking up at Master James. He’d carried her to a mat in the corner, since this room didn’t have a bed.
“We’re done with our checklist.” Beth responded.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No.”
“Then spread your legs so I can put a clamp on your clit.”
“Yes, Master.”
* * *
“What are you feeling?”
James’s voice and the fingers dancing along her naked back roused Beth from her semi-asleep state.
“My ass hurts.”
He chuckled, the unrepentant sound unique to Doms. “Tomorrow I might give you a nice spanking, just to see what you look like
with pink cheeks.”
“A spanking on top of a caning?”
“Do you object?” There was a hint of steel in his voice.
A shiver of pure arousal shook Beth as she lay on James’s lap, both of them seated on an elegant leather chaise lounge.
“No, Master.”
“I didn’t think so.” He nudged her outside leg off the arm of the chair, her foot dropping to the floor. The new position spread her
legs enough that her pussy, which had recently been free of a multitude of clamps, was open to him. “But you didn’t answer my

question. What I want to know is what you’re feeling.”
She sighed. “Don’t ask hard questions.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m not asking to make you uncomfortable.” His voice was tender.
“Feelings are hard.”
Master James stroked her inner thigh, saying nothing, but Beth could tell from the tension around his lips that he was holding
back a comment or question. He’d trusted her with personal information, maybe it was time she do the same.
“I have low Emotional Quotient—low emotional IQ. I have trouble understanding my own feelings and figuring out other
people’s.” James didn’t reply, and when the silence continued Beth kept talking, wanting him to know this about her. “I’m better
than I was. I’ve studied emotionality and developed coping mechanisms.”
“Coping mechanisms like becoming a submissive?”
“Yes.”
“Numbers are what I’m good at.” She wasn’t even sure why she was telling him that. It veered dangerously close to talking about
her job. “But I’ve never been diagnosed with anything other than low EQ. It was actually a roommate who first mentioned it. We
spent all night downloading sample tests for me to take.” Beth took a deep breath. “I like rules and labels because they provide
structure, but I never got myself diagnosed beyond the low EQ.”
“Beth.” He cut her off before she could keep going.
“Yes?”
“It doesn’t matter. The labels I mean. You are who you are. That should be good enough—for me and for everyone else.”
“I...thank you.”
“And who you are...” His voice trailed off and he her kissed long and deep, her nipples tightening in response. When he broke
the kiss, his eyes sparkled with wicked humor, his half smile promising so many things. “Is an orgasm slut.”
Two fingers found their way to her clit, which was swollen and sore, making his touch all the more exquisite.
“I meant to ask, is orgasm slut a bad thing?”

Master James chuckled as he tumbled her off the chair, then followed her down, his mouth going to her pussy. As his tongue
brought her to another delicious orgasm, Beth decided being an orgasm slut submissive was a very good thing.