Listen, Obey

One Last Lesson

Over the next couple of months, my life was almost too quiet. We heard nothing from Sam. No threats, no surprise visits. Jace had checked in at another rehab facility and the reports were positive. Hopefully, he stood a better chance this time around since I had found my footing and was ready to take over once the personnel at the rehab let him stretch his wings.

Other parts of my life were not quiet at all. After that first intense part of our relationship, where everything somehow seemed to work against us, Marc and I had taken the first tentative steps toward the scene where we first met. He reassured me again and again that it had to be my choice and that he wasn't expecting anything, but after my last heartfelt confession that I truly wanted to try it out, he relented.

We both agreed that a full-time D/s relationship was out of the question. Marc didn't want Tilia to be involved, which was a perfectly sane reason to keep it in the bedroom. In the bedroom, however, I found a heady sense of comfort by knowing what was expected of me. He made me feel treasured even as he tied me up in knots.

I grinned at the thought, checking the clock on the kitchen wall. He would be home any second, hopefully without Tilia. She was staying with a friend for a few hours, providing the perfect opportunity for an real scene.

We'd talked about it briefly last night, but when Marc got down into the details, I shut him up. I didn't want to know everything beforehand, and I trusted him fully.

Taking a deep breath, I entered our shared bedroom, taking care to settle my body into a smooth rhythm as I undressed. A metronome ticked in the deep crevices of my consciousness, counting the seconds of anticipation. Naked, I knelt on the hardwood floor, assuming the position he taught me.

Forcing each muscles to relax, I could feel the pressure rising from my core. Molten lava pooled in my groin as the metronome continued to tick. I had to work on my patience, and every session we shared was a forceful reminder. Marc would let me stew on my spot on the floor until he saw fit, and not a second earlier.

I heard the faint click as the door opened downstairs. My entire body sizzled with attention—my skin burned and my cock leaped with desire.

His footsteps sounded on the stairs, one by one, each closing the distance between us. I fought to keep my gaze lowered, fought to stay absolutely still.

I could feel his presence next to me, a stillness in the air. He was my center of gravity, and my body ached to be close.

Fingers ran through my hair—his touch soft and loving.

"You're stunning," he said, leaving a lingering longing as his touch disappeared. I wanted it back. I needed it. It was a deep-set craving for intimacy that I'd learned to treasure since Marc walked into my life. I had lived most of my life without it, lost in shadows and dark alleyways.

"You're allowed to watch," he said, inviting me to look as he undressed. The process was painstakingly slow, button after button on his dark blue shirt loosened to reveal his naked chest beneath. I would have torn it off if I were allowed.

He unfastened his belt and placed it over his bare shoulder. The dark leather fit him perfectly.

"Rise."

I did as asked, tipping my head forward to look at the floor. I was allowed to watch, but I also wanted to submit. Fully.

He walked behind me and placed his belt around my neck like a makeshift collar with a leash. It had an extra hole to attach the belt with perfect comfort without the danger of choking me. I loved that belt, loved how it scraped gently across my sensitive skin.

With a light tug, he steered me toward the bed.

"On your stomach."

"Yes Master." The reply was instant. Ingrained. A response that felt utterly right whenever we played.