Page 111 of Heart of Stone

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t hold much back with the flogger. At any point tonight, did you find that you lost your focus at all? Almost as if you were in a trance?”

She turned her head to face me, brows furrowed in question.

“Actually, I did. Why?”

“It’s a natural occurrence for a submissive, and part of the reason why I want you to stay overnight with me tonight,” I explained, continuing to knead and press my thumbs into the muscles of her shoulders. “It’s important that you are cared for properly after feeling that way. What you experienced is something called subspace, and it’s not something that should be considered lightly.”

Her nose pinched up in confusion.

“Subspace? Isn’t that something fromStar Trek?”

The purity of her question was so unexpected and completely disarming. A low chuckle emerged from me. I was amazed at how easily I was able to laugh with her. To simply be myself.

“Possibly, I guess. I’m not sure. I’ve never seenStar Trek,” I admitted.

“You’re kidding! Everyone has been a trekkie at one point in his or her life – it’s like a right of passage. You must have had a very boring childhood,” she scoffed. Her words were beginning to sound a little more energized and the coloring of her skin was retuning to normal.

Good. She’s coming down.

“Well, perhaps it’s in a science fiction movie, but I assure you – what I am referring to is anything but fictional. It’s a very real thing.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff?”

“Time. Practice. I learned a lot from the clubs. What I didn’t learn from there, I read about. Besides, it’s what I like. Why wouldn’t I make it my business to know a lot about it?”

She got quiet then, her expression thoughtful as if she were mulling over my words. After a minute, so cast her gaze down and started fiddling with the sheets that were tangled around us.

“Water, back rubs, sleepovers…do you take care of all your submissive women this way?” she questioned timidly. It was almost as if she were afraid of the answer.

“No. You are the first,” I openly admitted.

She slowly looked back up, eyes round and disbelieving.

“Really?”

Her insecurity hit me square in the chest.

Angel, don’t you know? You’re not just another random girl in my bed.

To see such fragility beneath her iron core resolve, threw me off kilter and I struggled to find my balance. I reached up to tenderly push a stray curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Yes, angel. Really. With the exception of my first stint with BDSM, my experience has been limited to one or two night affairs. Until I met you, I’ve never taken the chance with a more long term arrangement.”

She turned back around and settled herself against my chest once again.

“Who was your first? I mean,” she paused, giving herself over to a yawn. “You told me that you’ve been into this for years, but I guess what I really want to know is if all of your relationships have been this way.”

Whether it was her captivating curiosity or the docile way she lay in my arms, I couldn’t stop the words from flowing if I tried.

“I was eighteen. I was seeing this girl from my neighborhood. We were only together for a couple of months, but she was into it. When I look back, what we did was like playing in the minor leagues, but it sparked more than just a simple curiosity for me. As I got older, I learned that money had a way of talking. I started traveling in different social circles, in particularly circles that included a few millionaires with diverse tastes. Eventually, I was propositioned to join a club. Everything just fell in line after that.”

“So, it’s that easy? You just go to a club and pick out a random girl?” She posed her question indifferently, but I could hear a small measure of disgust hidden beneath her tone.

She doesn’t understand.

I had to rein her in before the conversation went south.

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