Page 12 of S is for…

She was still a little uneasy about sceneing with Peter again.She didn’t want to talk about feelings or needs.When they’d first paired up, they’d done a lot of that, exploring the dark corners of one another’s minds in an effort to both understand, and uncover, all their kinks and needs.

Talking to Peter was like a therapy session on steroids.It made sense, given what he did for a living, but she had no desire to repeat that experience.

Based on his behavior so far, she didn’t need to worry.He was distant and reserved in a way she wasn’t used to, but so far this scene was meeting her needs.He was meeting her needs, using her the way he had at the beginning, back when they’d been so good together.

Part of her was tense, waiting for this to go wrong, but she tried to breathe away that tension, let herself focus on the feeling of the collar pressing firmly against the front of her throat, the tension of the cuffs at her wrists.

He came back carrying what was either a waist cinch, or a very short under-boob corset.

He probably should have put that on her before cuffing her hands behind her back or adding the spine strap.She did what she could to help as he silently slid it around her waist, shoulder muscles starting to burn as she pushed her hands back, making space for him to position the corset around her middle under the spine strap.Once it was on, it was tight enough to be snug, but not “tight-lacing” tight.

She didn’t notice the odd hinge clips on the front until Peter grabbed a small tray.It was almost bean-shaped and based on the way Peter was handling it, made of a lightweight plastic.

He stooped, staring at those little hinges on the corset before attaching the concave side of the tray to them.

The tray hung down like an apron, and Diann frowned, confused.

“Have you ever seen pictures of cigarette girls?”Peter asked.

“Cigarette girls?”

It was the first mistake she made, answering him with the question of her own rather than the more appropriate “Yes, Sir” or “No, Sir.”

“They sold cigarettes in clubs, and they’d do it by carrying around a tray with all the options laid out on it.”Peter grabbed the tray and tipped it up so it was parallel to the floor, proving that those were in fact little hinges sewn into the corset.

“The inside edge of the tray would rest on their waist, the outside edge supported by a halter strap.”Peter drew an imaginary line in the air from the outer, curved edge side of the tray to her collarbones.“And they used hands to help support the tray.”

He paused, studying her breasts.

“Since you can’t support it with your hands, we have this special-made belt.Luckily the club had one.”

His eyes roamed her face.Diann kept her own gaze submissively lowered, but only to his sternum, not looking at the floor.That allowed her to see the way his jaw clenched and his throat worked.

For a minute, guilt overwhelmed her, only to be washed away by anger.Neither of which she needed to feel.

Her one-time Master had fallen in love with her, and she had to tell him that she didn’t, and never would, feel the same way for him.The guilt she’d felt during that conversation had never gone away completely.

They’d been perfect together, until they weren’t, and since then she’d bounced from Dom to Dom, no casual partner willing or able to top her as completely and mercilessly as Peter once had.He’d changed, not her, yet she was the one left collar-less and frustrated.

“Did you enjoy that?”Peter lay sprawled on a mat on the floor of an Iron Court playroom.

Diann sat beside him, elbows on her bare knees.

“That was…gentle.”

He smiled softly.“It was.”

That hadn’t been a compliment.Diann still felt restless and needy, despite many orgasms.He’d pulled her over his knee for a spanking, then plugged her ass before fucking her.That was followed by several hours of edging and then another round of missionary position sex.

It was good, but not kinky (except in the most vanilla of definitions) and her skin felt itchy with unmet need.

Peter was clearly satisfied.And that tempered her irritation, because she liked that he’d used her in a way that pleased him.Still, the relationship was based on honest and frank communication.This man knew more about her body than either she or her doctor did.

“I know it’s late,” she said again, “but could we do another scene?Something hard, Master?”

Peter sat up, wrapping an arm around her, and tugging her back against him.

“Tell me what you need.”

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