Chapter 27

Kathleen

Iawake in an unfamiliar place. At first, I must be dreaming… then it comes back to me.

The sex. The freakouts. The going to sleep feeling no better.

Ira.

She's not here, not even in her bed. I'm utterly alone as I stretch an arm above my head, look around, and adjust my vision until it no longer hurts to open my eyes.

The pillow pushes against my cheek as I slowly come to. It's comforting, even as my brain is filled with terrible memories. Shit, I'm embarrassed. How could I have acted like that in front of Ira? To Ira?

My everything is sore. My ass is so bruised from some simple spankings that I can't take any position but on my stomach. The T-shirt I borrowed to sleep in nearly strangles me as I drown in it. Yet all I can think about is how warm and comfortable this bed is. The mattress has the right firmness. The sheets are Egyptian cotton. 1500 thread count. The duvet is light but warm. If it weren't for my ass and the memories, I would spend the whole day in this bed – alone.

I doubt Ira would have left me here, or at least not for long. I don't see a note anywhere. This room is so soundproofed that I can't tell if she's in the bathroom. A part of me doesn't care.

The other part wants her here. Right now.

I draw the duvet over my head and pretend that last night didn't happen. Although I may have showered, I still feel… dirty. I know I'm not. I know it's irrational. Countless women have submitted before, including to me.

Those women aren't me.

The duvet tugs down my face. I open my eyes to see Ira, still dressed in her night clothes, looming over me with two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Morning, darling."

It's an empty pet name. Even so, I fling back the covers and face that today must happen.

One of the coffee cups is placed on the nightstand next to me. Ira sits on the other side of the wide bed, gingerly pulling herself toward me so she doesn't spill her coffee, which she pensively sips. What is she thinking? Do I wanna know? It's probably about me.

"Feeling better this morning?"

Coffee touches my mouth so I don't have to answer. It's bitter, as coffee tends to be, but somehow Ira remembered that I like sugar and a hint of cream. She must have heard me tell Annie during those two weeks we worked together.

"I feel better with this coffee, thanks."

Ira's lips curl together, and she leans back against the headboard. The one she had me handcuffed to only a few hours ago. "You had a rough night."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"I'm serious. You wanna talk about it?"

What in the world is this? Of course, Ira would be the one who wants to "talk" in the morning. But she's a Domme, as I have to constantly remind myself. A very good one, because Dommes know how important it is to keep communication open.

I don't know why she cares about it, though. Not like we're doing that again.

"Do I have a choice?" The coffee is on the other nightstand. I snuggle into her bed.

Likewise, she curls up next to me. Did she brush her teeth? I don't smell any morning breath. Mine must be a disaster after last night.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but it would be a good idea."

"I know, I know…"

"Babe… can I call you that?"

My eyes narrow. "I guess. Only here."

"I get it. You're not used to subbing, and not in the wide-eyed virgin way. I did my best to make you comfortable, but I clearly failed in the end. That's on me. I'm sorry."

One part of me yearns to reach out and take her into my arms. Or at least to feel my cheek against her warm chest. Last night, she held me for as long as I could remember, her body wrapped with mine and her hot breath blanketing the back of my neck until I finally fell asleep, tear tracks still on my face.

I feel my eyes. They're so full of gunk that it's amazing I can even see.

"You didn't fail. Like I told you last night, I wasn't ready for that, even though I thought I was. I should be apologizing for how I reacted. I'm sure that wasn't pleasant."

"No, but it was genuine. I should have read you better. But I admit, I'm not used to being with a woman coming from your point of view."

"Oh, I'm sure. All your subs are either into it already or coming from the most vanilla background possible." I realize how that sounds. "Sorry. No offense."

"Why would I be offended? Katie, I want you to be open and honest with me. Even if we never do this again, I don't want you to think back on this time like that. Or you know, if we see each other outside of here. Like for work."

I should tell her that she has nothing to worry about. I can handle myself. I'm not going to be triggered seeing her later.

I want to say that, but I can't.

"You want me to be honest? Fine. I freaked out because what my body wants and what my mind wants are two different things. I don't pretend to understand it, but there you go. That's why you couldn't read me fast enough. My body was telling you to go for it while my mind panicked at the last minute. I can't control it, like you can't control yourself when it comes to me, apparently."

"At least you understand."

"I'm serious, Ira. That's what happened."

She puts her hand on my arm. I tense. "I believe you. Now, do you want my honesty?"

Not really, but I don't stop her.

"I think you're a proud but scared woman. I don't say that to insult you. Far from it. I won't pretend I know exactly what you're going through at any given moment. But…" She pushes some of my tangled hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips feel so… liberating. I hate it. "I think you can overcome the uncertainty in your mind. You don't have to compromise who you are with me. Katie, the whole point of being with me is to reveal who you really are. It doesn't have to be the most submissive kitten in the world. It can be a Domme who takes a day or two out of her month to completely let go of control and indulge in what her soul yearns for."

"You'll see me differently." The same thing I said last night after my panic attack.

"In a way. I see you differently now than I did a day before. I see how scared you are. That doesn't lower yourself in my eyes. That means you're human."

"Was I somehow not human before?" I can't tell if she's patronizing me or not. For her sake, she better not be.

Ira slowly moves her hand from my shoulder to my neck, to my face. The woman doesn't have the biggest hands in the world, but they're more than enough to cover my skin and make me feel the strength within her. I want to shudder but refrain.

I think she's going to speak, but instead, she comes down on me. Kisses me.

There's no pressure behind it. Just a kiss. A sweet, melting kiss that parts my lips and caresses my tongue. My hand is in her hair. Hers are on my sides, arms curling around me as she brings me in closer. How can one person be so warm?

Betwixt relief and anxiety, that's me. I'm relieved that I can still feel safe with her, but I'm anxious because my body aches – and not from my sore ass and thighs.

We make love, but it's not what you think. It's not sex. She never touches me below the waist. She barely touches my breasts, letting my nipples peak before brushing her lips against them through her T-shirt I've borrowed. Thrusts are coming at me, but she's barely touching me, and I never think she's going farther. I don't want that right now, anyway.

Is she reading me?

I read my submissive partners. They are open with what they want. When a man is put into a submissive position, he tends to be the most open book he's ever been. You'd think it was the same for all women, but if you're like me, then you know that sharing your "fee-fees" is akin to career and social suicide. Sometimes I feel like such a man.

No, what Ira and I are doing isn't sex. It's… lovemaking.

"You feel pretty human to me," she whispers into my ear, her chest pressing against mine and the strength in her hips keeping me trapped against her bed. "A human who deserves to feel good and worshiped."

She keeps her eyes on me as she descends my stomach, hands pushing up the shirt until I'm completely bare. When her tongue hits my slit, I'm ready.

It's slow, it's gentle. She never asks for anything in return, and when I come from her tongue five minutes later, I know I'm in deep, deep trouble.

Deep fucking trouble.