Page 52 of Pretty Little Thing

“Isn’t that my line?” I quip.

“There’s a lot of misconceptions about this lifestyle,” he says. “One is that the Dom is always in control. They make the rules. They force their sub to do what they want. That’s not true.”

My brow furrows. “It’s not?”

“The sub makes the rules,” he says. “The sub puts boundaries on what their Dom can or can’t do. One word from their mouth ends it in an instant. In that way, the sub is actually the one in control the whole time.”

I flinch in disappointment. Control. Isn’t that the one thing I wanted to give up for an hour? The main reason why I’m so damn stressed out all the time?

“Oh,” I mutter.

“But…”he steps forward and tilts his head, “you have to trust that your Dom will follow your directives. Once you’re restrained, you have to entrust yourself to them. Your pleasure, your pain, your life will be in their hands. Do you think you can do that?”

I lean back. Something about that just stops me cold. But in a really good way.

“Might take some time,” I say.

“As it should. Who do you trust the most in the whole world?”

“My friends.”

He nods. “And how long have you known them?”

“Ten years, at least.”

“Now compare that to Clive the bubbling temp who fucks up your paperwork,” he jokes.

I laugh. “I see what you mean.”

“Trust is earned. It’s consensual. No one trusts by demand. You ever do that thing where you fall backward and another person catches you?”

I look down. “Quite recently, actually.”

He smiles and gestures around. “Then, you and I are already on our way. That’s what this whole place is. Just one big trust fall. The more you do it, the stronger the bond. Is this making sense?”

“I think so...” I bite my cheek. “So, what did Roger mean before?”

“Oh, you’ll have to be more specific,” he jokes. “That guy says some weird shit.”

I laugh. “I mean, he said I was owned. What does that mean?”

He gestures to the handkerchief. “That’s what this is supposed to be,” he says. “When you’re owned that means you have a Dom… and they don’t like to share.”

I run a finger around the lip of the cloth. “So, you own me?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s just a hanky. I gave you that to help you feel more comfortable around here and keep guys like Roger from getting too handsy. Not to possess you. But…” He looks me in the eye, bewitching me with those soft, blue eyes. “Down the line. Who knows? We’re just learning the basics here.”

I take a breath. “Right.”

“I want to try an experiment,” he says, his lips curling. “Something that should ease you in without being too overwhelming.”

“So, not strapping me to a St. Andrew’s cross and flogging me in front of strangers until I pass out, then?”

Clive shakes his head. “No. It’s just the two of us up here.”

“And it’s supposed to make me trust you?”

He smiles. “I hope so.”

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