Page 1 of Dash

Chapter 1

Daniel “Dash” Bowden

With his intense gaze trained on the petite blonde he’d strapped to the wooden St. Andrew’s cross, Dash slowly stalked around her in a circle. Neoprene cuffs secured her in place. Soft as they were, they had some give. Not a point in their favor. He preferred his leather ones, but she’d brought these, and he was nothing if not flexible.

He’d allowed them for her comfort. The sight of her wriggling as she pulled at them made his jaw tighten. The neoprene cuffs allowed for more movement, more freedom. That was the opposite of his intent and the antithesis of their scene. He’d had to adjust to account for all that squirming. His top lip curled in unseen annoyance. The sight of her inferior cuffs irked him.

With her chest heaving, her head hung between the juncture of the cross. Color remained in her fingers, though the knuckles were white because of her grip on the edge of the wood. A red flush painted her cheeks, though from arousal or embarrassment wasn’t clear. He wasn’t sure there was a difference for her—and whatever the reason, it made her ten times more attractive.

But. She’d yellowed.

They’d played together for a few weeks and had several scenes under their belts. She wasn’t at his skill level. In time—if he wanted to invest it—maybe. She said she wanted to get there. He wasn’t sure. While she never fully safe worded, she asked him to slow down frequently. Her actions and her words didn’t match—a sign their desires didn’t either.

He’d prefer not to waste time with someone who wasn’t into his kinks. Time wasn’t something he had in excess. A partner who shared some of his proclivities would make the rare instances he could get away more enjoyable. He found no pleasure in a partner who wasn’t getting off on it too.

Safe. Sane. Consensual.

He gave every woman he played with the stop light system—the most common and easiest one to remember. Red meant he’d stop in his tracks and playtime was over. Yellow meant she needed a break. He’d pause to check in. Green was good to go and only uttered after a yellow.

She’d yellowed, again.

Once behind her, he paused and admired her bare, heart-shaped ass. The fresh red stripes he’d created with the acrylic cane glowed nicely against her pale skin. A few were raised, where he’d gained momentum, but damn her if she didn’t yellow when he’d finally gotten his rhythm, again.

No. He wouldn’t invest his time further. It wasn’t her fault or a bad thing. He played at a higher intensity than most—a fact that made it difficult, but magical, when he found someone who could keep pace with him.

Bringing his hand down onto the globe of one ass cheek, he stepped closer to her. Purposely, he leaned in, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against the tender flesh.

“Breathe,” he whispered. As a dominant, he had a responsibility to take care of her.

“I just, I-I…it. I just needed…” she stammered through ragged breaths.

Unable to prevent the grin of amusement, he gently rubbed her ass. “Shhhh.” As much as he enjoyed her squirming, she wasn’t ready for him. Clear as day was a desire to submit, perhaps even to be pleasing. Though, it wasn’t directed at him specifically. She liked chocolate ice cream and he liked rocky road. Still chocolate, but far more intense.

“I’m sorry. Just give me a minute,” she whimpered. Poor thing. She tried so hard. A better man would work with her.

“Take your time.” He wasn’t a complete asshole. He’d been in this lifestyle a long time. He knew when a woman pushed against her comfort zone for another person. This one shoved too hard. There was pushing and then there was plowing. She’d need to demolish her comfort zone and he didn’t have the time to build that back up with her.

With a short squeeze of her ass, and she did have a delicious ass that marked beautifully, her breath hitched again. That response never got old. These were the things that kept him coming back.

“Deep breaths,” he coaxed.

Obediently, she did as he instructed. Several deliberate, deep inhales made her body shift while he groped her pretty little behind. The soft whimpers made his cock threaten to punch through his jeans.

She meant well. He couldn’t fault her. New to the life as she was, she had a lot of lessons to learn. Dash wasn’t the one to teach her. She needed more of a daddy type, and less of a sadist.

“Green,” she said with resolve in her voice. It was adorable and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m in no rush. I have all night,” he replied, knowing she wasn’t ready for the level of play he wanted. Moving her hair to one side, exposing the bare skin of her shoulder and neck, he gave her a soft kiss. That was more her speed.

Her body heated under his lips. He wasn’t against kissing. He just didn’t like to do it with people he only deemed play partners. It sent the wrong message. Especially kissing on the mouth. When he wasn’t willing to offer it, Dash actively avoided the suggestion of deeper intimacy. So, he wouldn’t kiss her on the lips, just other parts of her body, erogenous zones. They were fair game. This was one of his favorite parts of playing—dancing between pleasure and pain, being the bringer of both.

She moaned after he dragged his teeth along the joint of her neck and shoulder. Taking it as his cue that’d she’d moved into the right headspace, he stepped back. Satisfied she’d let him get a few good licks in before she yellowed again, he considered what he’d do next.

With the probability of her utilizing the stoplight system again on his mind, he turned to consider his options. He reached for his toys, the ones he’d laid out from his bag, and he steered away from some of his more sting-y items. She did better with things offering a thuddy sensation. As he lifted the heavy flogger, with bull hide for the falls, he ran his fingers through the strips. It took a bit of muscle to use it, but the effect was worth the effort.

A compromise. It’d give him satisfaction to wield it, give her the thud feeling she preferred. Again, flexibility. If only she’d trusted his ability to adapt to her. This was why she wasn’t for him. He wanted the freedom to use all his toys.

He wasn’t for her either. She didn’t get turned on by the same things he did. They weren’t complimentary in their kicks. Deal breaker. Turning his focus back on her, he decided. This was their last play session.

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