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Ripping open the plastic covering on the chicken with more force than necessary, Archie washed the slick breasts thoroughly, then cursed as she realized she needed foil to line the bottom of the pan. She could feel herself falling apart at the seams as she dried her hands and searched the drawers for the foil.
She'd made the rookie mistake of googling sjambok marksearlier that day, on her quest to find out what it actually was. Big, big mistake. It was used as a correctional whip in some parts of South Africa, and for cattle in others. In the wrong hands, it left really ugly bruises in its wake.
Archie blew out a breath as she lined the bottom of the pan and resumed prepping the chicken. She tried to think of an alternative she could offer Jasper instead. A flogging would be too tame. If he hadn't declared war on her ass already, she'd have thrown anal sex at him in trade. Piercing? That would be a good exchange, but she wasn't sure it would measure up to the punishment he had planned. An enema? Fisting?
God help her, she was willing to suggest anything.
Her hands were ridiculously steady as she laid the breasts on the foil, then washed the juices off her skin. She'd forgotten to turn on the oven, so she did that while her brain assured her Jasper wouldn't hurt her beyond her limits. They'd had this conversation before, and he hadn't done anything she couldn't take.
"Sweetheart, no one expected you to make dinner."
Anarchy swore her feet left the floor at least six inches. The towel she'd been absently squeezing in her hands flew into the air before plopping onto the floor; her socks slipped on the tiles as she spun toward the doorway, and the imposing master observing her with an intrigued stare. "I think you just sheared ten years off my life."
"Sorry, Archie. I thought you'd heard me, but you were busy talking to yourself about fisting and enemas." Braun lifted an eyebrow at her. "My suggestion is, if those kinks don't interest you enough to try them, do not mention them to your Dom. Jasper enjoys testing limits, but he'll also work incredibly hard to give a sub her fantasy."
Her face lit up with heat so fierce, it was a wonder the chicken wasn't already fried. "I-I...shit. Please don't tell him, sir."
At six-four, Braun was intimidating. Not only in height, but in stature. He was strict but fair, and he wore his dominance like a second skin. He strode across the room towards the fridge, pulling the door open with his dark blue eyes fixed on her face. "I'll consider it...if you tell me what's going through your head. You're pale, sweetheart," he pointed out as he plucked a pair of beers from inside the fridge. "Beneath that flush of embarrassment, you're pale and your skin looks like wax."
"It's nothing," she assured him, snatching up the olive oil and pouring some over the chicken. When the lid popped off completely and a flood of oil drowned the breasts, it was all she could do not to cry. Stress made her cry, and she was dealing with her fair share of it and more. "Fuck. You have enough on your plate to worry about, Master Braun. I'll be fine."
"Mmm-hmm." He set the beers on the counter and braced his hands on the edge. "I think I should send Jasper down. If you don't want to spill it to me, you'll damn well talk to him."
"No!" Now her hands trembled as she picked up the pan and tipped out two-thirds of the olive oil. "He's been looking forward to tonight, I know he has. I'm not going to ruin it by being a coward."
Braun nodded and decided to sit on one of the stools. Long fingers wrapped around a beer bottle, and he knocked the lid off with a sharp rap on the counter edge. Taking a slow sip, he gestured with his free hand. "We've been talking about the scene he's got planned. I realize you're relatively new to scening; I think J forgets that sometimes. We all do. Your presence in Avalon has become part of the foundation, but it is easy forget you haven't played until very recently."
Archie made herself breathe. In and out. In and out. She dusted the chicken with herbs—a bit more than she intended to—then picked up the roasting pan and shoved it into the oven, slamming the door shut. "It's stupid. I've got safewords to use, and I like pain. I love Jasper and I want to make him happy."
"He's not going to be happy if he breaks you, sweetheart." The master opened the second bottle of beer and pushed it in her direction. "Which part of the punishment has you scared?"
Beer wasn't her drink, but she wasn't turning it down. She stepped forward and snagged it off the counter, cupping the cold glass in both hands as she leaned back against the cupboard. "Both, I guess."
"One more than the other. Which?"
"The sjambok," she whispered.
Braun drank again, then rubbed his nose. "Formidable piece of kit. A nasty weapon in the wrong hands." At her shudder, he made a shushing noise that soothed her anxious nerves. "Everyone knows sadists cause pain, Archie. Sadism is synonymous with it. A general misconception is that sadists will wreak agony and dance a jig while doing so. Some do, and those types aren't permitted to play in my club." His voice was deepening, authority surging through the words. "Jasper needs to cause pain to get an erection, to achieve orgasm. You know this."
She nodded slowly.
"He only enjoys giving the pain if the submissive likes taking it. It's the major reason he pulled that stunt with you, leaving before he did something unforgivable. He wouldn't—couldn't—hurt you if you hated it. He won't give you more than you can handle, because while it would make him hard, it would destroy the part of him that forms the man beneath the sadist. It's your job as his submissive, as the woman he loves, to communicate with him so that he doesn't inadvertently cross that line into ruination." Braun sighed and lifted the bottle again. "We're Doms. We read submissives through body language and eye contact, with a few other tricks up our sleeves. But we're not infallible and even the most attentive of us can miss a signal. Use your voice, sweetheart."
Taking a mouthful of beer, she grimaced at the taste.
"And you're feeling okay about anal sex?" he segued smoothly, chuckling as she barely stopped herself from spraying the mouthful everywhere. "Sorry. Figured I may as well get all the cards spread out on the table. When you have an ear to listen, you should get everything off your chest."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable talking about that with you, sir." Her buttocks clenched firmly.
"That's fine, I won't push you. But again, something else you need to discuss with him." Giving her another of those pointed stares, he drained the bottle and rose. "My advice would be to finish up in here and go watch TV while everything cooks. Put your feet up, get lost in some inane comedy, and just chill. Let your brain take a mini vacation for half an hour; you do a lot of thinking."
Yeah, she really did. Her shoulders slumped with relief, then stiffened again as Braun rounded the counter.
He dropped his empty bottle into the recycling box beneath the sink, then plucked her full one from her grasp with a wink. "I'll tell Jasper your lips have been on it, that'll make him happy." He detoured by the fridge, got another bottle, and headed for the door. "Relax, sweetheart. That's an order."
"Master Braun?" she said before he left, unable to stop herself.
He paused in the doorway, cocked his head.
