Page 41 of At Her Will

The Italian architecture of her house in the Irish Channel section of New Orleans reflected the many things the city was. The house was blue with cream shutters and trim, the small front yard bound with black wrought iron fencing. Flared shelf molding embellished the tops of the tall windows. A welcoming front porch spanned the width of her home.

She parked the car in her detached garage in back and led him to the cozy screened porch that overlooked her backyard. It had just enough room for her vegetable and herb garden, plus a meditation bench under the sprawling oak. The tree draped its arms companionably over the backyards of her neighbors.

As she took him up the steps past her potted flowers and unlocked the back door, he held the screen, his body close behind her. She turned to gesture him inside.

She’d loved the historic house from her first walk through. It was narrow but long, following the typical footprint of houses built in this area during the early 1900s. The floor-to-ceiling windows were in the master bedroom, as well as the front living room and dining areas.

It smelled like well-loved historic houses did. Old wood, plaster, and a mix of new materials to keep it maintained over the decades. The polished floors in the narrow rooms were mostly the original wood, but when needed, replacement boards were matched. She’d had the walls painted in the vibrant colors she preferred, a different color for each room, embellished with white crown molding.

She liked furniture crafted before 1930. Or looked like it had been. The avocado green velvet sofa with diamond tufted seat, cushions and arms could convert into a full sleeper sofa, and she had cream-colored pillows on it, printed with New Orleans street scenes. The sofa and two matching side chairs were grouped around one of the six fireplaces the house had.

A large watercolor of Ella Fitzgerald singing in a smoky club was over the couch.

Plenty of daylight streamed through the tall front windows, flanked by shimmering green and gold striped curtains. When she closed them so the living room became more intimate, light from the room’s tear-drop chandelier made the velvet of the couch and the gold in the painting’s frame gleam.

She wanted what she had planned to stay private, and her front porch was only a few feet from the street.

She turned to find him still within a step of her. Perhaps thinking he was crowding her, he started to step back, but she put a hand on his forearm. His ended up at her waist, fingers curling in. Energy vibrated from him, but he was waiting to see what she wanted.

“Kneel to me, Rev.”

The relief that swept him was so strong it rocked them both. He sank to one knee, but kept gazing up at her, a curious mix of submission and expectation, hope and demand, that made curbing her anticipation difficult. She wanted to unspool it in slow ribbons of pleasure.

“This is my home, Rev, and I’ve invited you into it. Would you hurt me here?”

Shock gripped his face. “No, Mistress. Not here, not anywhere.” Then he did that inner reflection thing, and added to it. “Never, Veracity. You’re safe with me. No matter what.”

“What changed there? When you chose to tell me both as a Mistress and by my given name?”

“I want you to know that I ache to be on my knees to you, but that change nothing about my promise to respect and protect you, as a woman trusting a man should expect. As you should expect, when you trust me.”

Vera took a steadying breath. “Thank you for that, Rev. You have the same promise from me, because when you willingly hand me control, Icanhurt you, physically and mentally. The more you open yourself to me, the more that risk increases. So I promise to care for everything you entrust to me about yourself.”

She gestured. “On that note, take a seat on the sofa. We need to talk about some things first.”

When they moved there, he waited until she sat before he did, one cushion-width between them. “Before a Dominant and submissive engage in anything too involved,” she said, “we talk about limits first.”

Not just to bring him up to speed, but to gauge his reactions to the information she gave him now. Hard and soft limits, and examples of both. Impact play, sting versus thud, fire play, electric play. Suspension, restraints, toys.

She didn’t bother with the ones that didn’t appeal to her. As his knowledge of this world grew, if he found something that interested him in those areas, she could help him explore them with other Dommes.

She wasn’t thrilled with that thought, but under her supervision…she might be all right with it. A discussion for another day, if it became an issue. She’d shared subs before,usually with the other TRA women, but unless they were regular playmates, it was only for the occasional session.

It was rare she brought a man home to play. But Rev needed to explore this side of himself in a private environment, without the sensory overload that Progeny could be to those new to this.

She recognized when she needed to further explain a term or type of play. Not because Rev pretended to know something when he didn’t, but he’d get lost in thought over it, enough that she’d inject more information until that puzzled expression cleared, to be replaced by interest, indifference or amusing horror.

He showed interest in impact play and restraints. Full recoil on anal play. She enjoyed fucking a male, but him proving his devotion by worshipping and pleasuring her body usually took the lead in her sessions. The psychological elements of Dominance and submission were her favorite areas to explore, and if she was with a sub who embraced that as she did, they found what worked for both of them. So far, Rev had earned straight As in that.

An example she gave him: A male standing at her back, waiting for her—waiting on her—with endless patience, to prove his service, even as he also exhibited those titillating signs of effort to leash his drives and desires.

Sometimes she coiled that leash around her hand and drew it taut, proving in more stringent ways how much in charge of his responses she was, especially when the sub needed that, too.

But she also liked to be the kind of owner who let the leash trail next to her sub, knowing his attention and focus never really left her. He wanted the leash there, and so did she, but she had no need to hold it.

"Play seem a strange word for some of this, Mistress,” Rev noted. “Electricplay, fire play.”

"Yes. But many submissives start in the shallow end of the pool and eventually are only happy in the places where they can't touch bottom at all. Or get well over their head."

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