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“I . . . wait . . . you’d let me punish you?”
He looked very serious as he nodded. “Yes. I would.”
“But Doms don’t get punished, right?”
“There’s plenty of ways we’re punished. We mess up, then we might lose the trust of someone we really care about. Or there might be the way we punish ourselves. But if I overstepped, then yeah, you can punish me. I’ll take whatever you want to dish out.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Well, within my limits that is.”
“I don’t know them.”
“Which is something we’d talk about before e
ntering any sort of scene or play or relationship with a power exchange.”
He stared at her as she thought about all that. Had he overstepped her limits? No. Those slaps on the ass were nothing. What if she was to take him up on punishing him? What would she do? A weird feeling filled her stomach. She didn’t like the idea of being in charge of him.
“I could be your slave for the day,” he offered.
She shook her head frantically.
“No?”
“No. I don’t . . . don’t make me . . . I don’t want to.”
“Shit, baby. Shit. I didn’t mean to scare you. Christ.” He stood between her legs and gathered her against his chest. “Hey, hey, fuck, I’m sorry. Shh. You’re okay. Nothing happens that you don’t want it to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know why he was apologizing. All he’d done was offer her a way of punishing him and here she was freaking out over being in charge of him like that.
“Look at me.”
She gazed up into his stern eyes. They were a warm chocolate brown and in them all she saw was concern and understanding. And a bit of self-loathing. She didn’t want him to feel that way about himself.
“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t realize that would upset you this much, but I should have guarded what I said. But I need something from you right now. Can you give me something?”
Absolutely. She nodded.
“Good girl. I want you to calm your breathing, okay?” He placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his chest move with each breath. Then he put his hand lightly on the front of her neck, his fingers resting on her pulse. “Just follow my breaths.”
“I’m not having a panic attack.” She knew what they felt like. Although she did find herself calming as she followed each of his breaths, mimicking them.
“I know. But your breathing was erratic enough to worry me. I’m supposed to be helping you manage your stress, not cause you more.”
“Not your fault. You didn’t know I’d freak out like an idiot.”
“Hush,” he said sternly. “No talking badly about yourself.”
“Another rule?”
“Another rule,” he said firmly. “Fuck. I’ve handled this badly.”
“Hush,” she repeated back to him.
He raised an eyebrow. How did he manage to look amused and stern?
“You didn’t handle this badly. I did.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The truth is, I like reading books about Daddy Doms and Littles. And I’ve done a lot of research into it. I even . . . I even joined a few online support groups for Littles.”
