Page 31 of Rebellion

“Oh, and let Ilario and Dominic know that Angelina asks that we aren’t disturbed. Tell Ilario he is to indulge in any and every desire with any Dominant he cares to entice tonight. He is to report to Angelina tomorrow exactly how many orgasms he gave and received.”

“Yes, sir.” Again, he looked to me, but I shrugged. I didn’t love Anon Dom speaking for me, but I’d agreed to submit. Protesting now wouldn’t be the right way to move the relationship forward.

“And have Dominic shadow your bouncer and floor monitor. He’s got a solid protective streak in him and Angelina would like to see that put to good use.”

That was true about Dominic and I wish I had thought of something like that myself.

“Thank you,” Anon Dom said and then closed the door. He crossed to a beautiful inlaid wood minibar and took out some glasses. “Please sit down.

I made my way to the seating area but stood next to the chairs trying to figure out what he wanted me to do. Ugh I hated that. I might not be a bonafide Dominant, but I sure as shit wasn’t used to waiting for direction and not knowing what to do with myself. Not anymore. Not in a long time.

He poured a glass of water and brought it over handing it to me. “Ange, you’re overthinking this. We haven’t even begun. Just sit down.”

I took the glass and plopped into the chair. I hadn’t realized my feet were sore until I did. These boots were hawt, but not made for walking. My pre-Texas spending spree had included way too many pairs of new shoes, none of which were comfortable, but they were all so pretty. I stretched my ankles, tilting each foot to the side.

“Take your boots off, and I’ll rub your feet.”

I got why Tate would want to give me a foot massage. He was a switch and liked the submissive role, doing for others. What was with Anon Dom? “Uh, shouldn’t I be doing that for you?”

He shook his head. “Don’t question me. Pay attention and do as you’re told.”

Oh, like I hadn’t heard a good ole do-as-your-told four billion times in my life. “Fuck you.”

He sat, propping his ankle on one knee, spreading his arms across the back of the chair, examined me, head to toe. But he didn’t say anything.

I may not know who Anon Dom was, but he wasn’t my father, my ex-fiancé, or the myriad other controlling, and not in the fun way, men from my past. He didn’t deserve my potty-mouth disrespect. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “Take off your boots. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

I undid the laces and shoved at the boots until they popped off one by one. Anon Dom indicated for me to raise my foot and set it in his lap. I did and he rubbed his thumb up and down the arch. I almost whimpered it felt so good.

“Don’t say you’re sorry to me. Either you want to do this, or you don’t. In my experience doing something half-assed creates chaos and misunderstanding, which leads to mistakes.”

Lord knew I didn’t have half an ass. “The kind of mistakes that lead to leather masks?”

His fingers paused for a moment, then dug in harder. “That’s a question for much later.”

“You’ll tell me eventually?”

“Possibly. Now, let’s talk boundaries and limits. What are your hard, absolute red-zone hard limits?”

Shit just got real.

We started with the big six, which were completely non-negotiable. No kids, no animals, no bodily waste, no vomit, no blood, and no dead bodies. Which he immediately agreed to. Next was the use of toys, yes, use of paddles, soft limit, use of whips, hard limit. Then we moved onto penetration.

“Oral?”

Hell yeah. “Yes.”

“Vaginal?”

He was being awfully formal. “Yes.”

“Anal?” His voice was so calm and collected through all this questioning. It was as if none of this even turned him on. It was all business.

I wasn’t so unaffected. I shifted in my seat and pulled my foot away. “Yes.”

“Hmm. You like anal, don’t you?” He waved his hand at my other foot coaxing me to give it to him. My foot really wanted that rub down, so I gave in.

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