Page 51 of Until I Own You

She picks up the pen, signs, and places it back down with utmost care.

“Good.”

The corners of her lips tick up.

“If at any point you find yourself feeling unsafe, you will tell me with a safe word. Going forward, if that is what we decide to do, you may choose one. For tonight, let’s keep it simple and use the colors of a traffic light. Green means you are enjoying what I’m doing, and we can keep going, red stops everything and the scene is over. We will talk about why and what happened, but we are done scening for tonight. Yellow is almost like a pause button. The scene doesn’t stop, but is put on hold, and we talk about what you are unsure of or what’s making you uncomfortable. Does that make sense?”

Bridget nods. “Yes.”

“The first thing you need to learn, Bridget, is that communication is the most important thing between a Dom and a sub. And in this dynamic, though it might not look like it, you have all the power.”

“Wh-what do you mean? I thought you were in control.”

I smile. “Oh, I am. Always.”

Her flushing face has me fighting against myself with the need to touch her, to caress her soft skin, to feel her heat.

“But a word from you has the power to stop everything. That is why I said you have the power. And that is why we use safe words. Your consent is key here.”

“So is yours.” As her mouth gapes for a second before she bites her bottom lip, her eyes widen, and she lowers them to the table, almost as if she is afraid she just did something wrong.

But I am taken aback.

Because with her words, I am reminded of what we are risking by being here together. The reason I rented out the entirety of the Underground, have worked to keep it a complete secret, including ensuring Hazel’s confidentiality with an extra tip.

We aren’t just consenting to the dynamics between a Dom and a sub.

We are consenting to never being able to go back to what we were.

“I’m sorry,” Bridget says in a soft tone. “I shouldn’t have–”

I clear my throat to cut her off.

She’s done nothing wrong.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

She nods and keeps silent.

I stand before her with my hands behind her back. “First, I’d like you to put your hair up in a ponytail.”

“I…don’t have–”

I pull a scrunchie out of my pocket and hold it out to her. “You should never question that I’m prepared, Bridget.”

She nods before taking it from me, a cautious raise of her green eyes to meet mine. “Thank you.”

“Look at me while you do it. In the eyes.”

Bridget sits up straighter and collects the dark tresses of her hair into a ponytail. Eyes not leaving mine.

My heartbeat quickens.

I knew she’d be a good girl. But for me? Is it possible?

She snaps the elastic into place, the ponytail waterfalling from the back of her head.

“A ponytail…” I circle to the back of the chaise. “Is a tool of your own making that I can use.” I run my hand through her hair, rolling it around my fist until I have a firm grasp on it. “You understand?”

---