Page 135 of Hayden's Stalker

She presses her lips to mine again, and we kiss for a while before she rests her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her while we lay together, and I feel completely content with her here. I focus on her floral scent and the comfortable weight of her in my arms as I breathe slowly in and out.

After a while, she asks, “So, how does the whole BDSM thing work?”

My mind is in a totally different headspace, but immediately, all of the desire to fuck her comes rushing back in. It’s also something I desperately want with her but haven’t really sought since I mentioned it, and she didn’t bring it back up again.

I look at her with interest, my cock semi-hard against her. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I was just wondering how it works.” Tati shrugs.

I think about beginner BDSM stuff, considering she’s never done it before. It’s been a long time since I first got into the scene, and none of the subs I’ve had in the past were new to kink. Once we got famous, I got too scared to indulge anyway, so it’s been a while since I’ve done anything.

“Well, it can look different depending on the relationship and what you want to do. In a general sense, though, we would pick a safe word, and you would use it if you ever wanted to stop anything we were doing.”

She seems to mull over what I told her, then asks, “What sort of things would we be doing? Spanking and stuff?”

I’m amused by the question because it’s usually the first thing people think of when it comes to kink, but the reality is a little closer to our current situation.

“We would have rules. I know you love those,” I wink at her. “But these would be my rules, and you would follow them or be punished.”

My cock is hard against her now. The image of Tati, quivering underneath me and on the edge of orgasm while I deny her the release for hours, comes to my mind. Spanking is fun, but there’s nothing I love more than punishing a sub with orgasm denial because when I finally let them come, it’s spectacular to watch.

I look at Tati, and she has a strange look on her face. She’s quiet for another minute or two, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

Eventually, she asks, “Remember when we talked about the idea of torture?”

I hate the way her voice sounds, and all sense of arousal has dimmed. I can tell that she’s about to tell me something I don’t want to know, but I have to hear it anyway.

I nod solemnly. “Yes. I wanted to know what would make you bite a cyanide capsule.”

The air between us is thick with tension as she whispers, “I’ve been tortured.”

I stare into the face of the woman I love, but I have another vision in front of my eyes. Tati in a dingy room with a dirty floor, her hair in clumps from not being washed, her clothes in tatters, and her face covered in blood from abrasions as she screams while a dark figure pulls her arm back at an extreme angle.

As I look down at the beautiful woman, safe and clean in front of me, her eyes fill with tears. It breaks me because she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I pull her tightly to me. I stroke her back and kiss her head as she breaks down into tears. Her body shakes, and her tears fall, making hot, wet patches on my shirt. Tears come to my eyes, too, because I love her so much, and I hate that she was ever harmed by anyone. She eventually moves back to look at me as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“I don’t even have the words to tell you how much I wish that had never happened to you, Tati,” I manage to croak out.

“Thanks,” she sighs and stares at the picture on my t-shirt. “I thought I was over it. I’ve…seen people about it.”

This is more than she’s ever told me about her life prior to meeting me. I’m honored and disturbed by it. I would take on any emotional burden she needs to give me in order to feel better. I wish I could take the memories from her.

“Tatiana.” I place my fingers under her chin and turn her face up to look at me. “You don’t have to be over it. I don’t even know exactly what happened, and I know that.”

“I wish I didn’t know what happened,” she chokes out in a throaty voice.

I kiss her softly and squeeze her tightly again. I want her to always be safe, and I hate the idea of her ever being hurt. If I could keep her here in this bus with me forever, I would. Her body relaxes against mine, and it feels as though we’re both in need of this as I gently stroke her back, trying to get the images I have of her being tortured out of my head and focusing on the moment here with her to do that.

She takes a deep breath and says quietly, “Anyway. I don’t know if doing BDSM stuff might be triggering for me.”

I gasp because there’s no fucking way I can do kink with her. As much as I might want it, I wouldneverwant to risk harming her in any way. I love her way too much to even attempt it.

I shake my head. “No. We’re not doing BDSM. No.”

Her face falls, and she frowns at me. “I’m still interested in trying it, though.”

I know that she’s completely new to kink, so she has no idea what it means and how it could trigger her. I don’t want that for her, and I’m perfectly fine having a vanilla relationship with her if that means keeping her safe.

“Tati, the basic principle of BDSM is that it’s safe, sane, and consensual. Doing it while knowing that it could possibly be harmful to you would absolutelynotbe safeorsane.”

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