Page 95 of Foreplay on Words

“But I already know how to use it.” I flicked my wrist as he taught me, and the end of the flicker whip cracked softly in the air.

“Very impressive, Chase. I’m sure your Dominatrix will be quite intimidating,” Emory sighed and rolled his eyes. “He’s still going first.”

I narrowed my eyes. He was such a dick sometimes.

“Bra on or off. Your choice,” Emory nodded as he looked at my chest.

“On!” Evan practically yelled. He was still worried about Em seeing me unclothed, as if he didn’t see models half-naked daily. Em seeing my breasts—at least in Evan’s mind—was obviously going to turn him into a wild animal. Not that my brain didn’t enjoy letting that little fantasy reel play. But ew, no. The only person I wanted going feral over my tits was Evan.

“Standing or kneeling, Chase?” Emory asked expectantly. “I’ll let you pick the position.”

“Kneeling,” I sighed.

“Grab the rope, Evan.” Emory nodded over at the tightly coiled rope he’d laid on the edge of the large leather bed that dominated the main space in Emory’s playroom. “Let’s see if you did your homework.”

We’d spent a few hours curled up on the couch after our bath, watching TV and talking. It wasn’t about anything of substance, but I felt like we weren’t dancing around the subject of being together anymore. We were together, and I was sure we were on the same page...at least, I hoped we were. There hadn’t been any grand declarations yet, but I could tell how strongly he felt for me. It was returned with equal vigor. Especially if he handled this whip as well as he’d dealt with the restraints we’d played with. Nothing said love like tying up your girlfriend and whipping her.

Evan had laughed when I ordered Chinese food, and the delivery driver expressed concern that I hadn’t been home the week before for my usual order.

After dinner, we’d sat down facing each other, practicing basic knot-tying skills. Evan practiced on me until he felt like he got it right. If we hadn’t been taking a break from strenuous activities, I would have mounted him right then and there at his adorable look of accomplishment when he successfully recreated the knots I’d demonstrated.

“Alright. What would you like me to do, Sir?” Evan asked quietly as he glanced over at Emory.

Emory pointed at the large leather bed in the center of the room. He motioned me over, and I knelt on a small pad he’d put on the floor in front of the edge.

“We want her arms up out of the way and a nice stretch on her back,” Em instructed as he raised my arms in front of me and rested them near one of the leather straps running down the surface. “Bind her wrists and tie her into the strapping. We want her to be outstretched but with a little wiggle room.”

“Yes, Sir.” Evan sat on the edge facing me and picked up one of my wrists, running his thumb over the underside. “Chase, can you hold them six inches apart?”

I nodded and shifted into position as he took the nylon rope from Em and began looping it around my wrists. After making five even loops, he crossed the rope ends over each other and wrapped the space between my wrists. He crossed the rope ends again and then carefully stretched my arms over one of the straps, fastening me to the leather strap with neat knots.

“Very nice. He’s a quick study, Chase. Better than your first attempt to tie me up,” Emory complimented while simultaneously taking a jab at me.

Evan’s eyes searched mine before they flashed over to Emory. I knew he had trust issues, but it truly was platonic between Emory and me, and it always would be.

“Don’t worry,” Emory assured. “It was for practice. Talia was enjoying seeing me bound and on my knees. Doesn’t happen very often.”

“You hate giving up control,” I nodded. Emory’s submission was a rare sight.

“You should feel accomplished knowing that you’re one of the very few I trusted enough to do it,” Emory stated. “That’s what this entire lifestyle is about. Not control, not dominance. It’s about trust. Trusting your partner enough to give them the control to make your desires come true. In a truly balanced dynamic, both partners trust each other to do what the other needs. A true power exchange can never happen without trust.”

Evan’s eyes locked with mine as Emory talked, and I knew that I completely trusted him with all of me. My heart. My mind. My body. I knew he’d keep me safe and care for me.

“Now select your equipment. I think she’d look particularly nice with an array of pink splashed across her pale skin from that flogger,” Emory told him as he stepped closer to the wall holding all the whipping and paddling instruments.

Evan stood and stepped out of my line of sight. Their voices mixed with the gentle clanking of the metal brackets as things were moved around while they talked.

My heartbeat started to pick back up as the soft pat of bare feet sounded on the floor behind me.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my forehead against the leather, trying to straighten my back and remain balanced on my knees. I knew posture affected how the hits impacted your skin, so I tried to be the model sub while Evan was learning. My trust in him was solid, but he was new at this, and I wanted to set him up as best as I could. He’d be upset if he hurt me.

“Chase, you ready?” Emory asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Evan, feet shoulder-width apart. Strike from the shoulder, not the wrist. It should be a fluid movement, not a snap.”

A shaky breath escaped me as I heard the telltale whoosh of leather cutting the tension in the air. The tail lashed across my back, and I tried not to jolt at the impact. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt me, but I still felt the sting from my blood rushing to the surface of my skin. As Emory continued to coach Evan behind me, endorphins surged as I anticipated his next move.

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