10. Seth

SETH

Bridget entersthe chamber like a child entering her classroom on the first day of school. It isn't too far off, anyway. I will be training her tonight.

I was at a loss for words when she told me she had no experience.

The hours I spent agonizing over her with other Doms.

And now, I get to show her what a real Dom is. How she deserves to be worshipped.

Me! As it should be.

"Let me take your coat." I come up behind her.

Bridget undoes the belt and allows me to remove the long, cream-colored coat from her arms. Just because I will be dominating her soon does not exempt me from being a gentleman. Besides, we haven't begun. Not yet. Not for a little while yet. There are details to be discussed first.

She says nothing.

I think she is trying to mimic what she's seen which is both a blessing and a curse in the eyes of an experienced Dom. On one hand, it shows me she is as eager for this as I am. On the other, she now has misconceptions and maybe even a few behaviors that need to be corrected, I'm sure. She needs to learn how things work in real life and how different they are from reading them in a book or watching others participate in a scene.

Being inside of a dynamic like ours will become is a different beast.

"We aren't in scene yet, Bridget. You may talk to me."

"Thank you…Seth." She hesitates when she says my name. I know her mind is going to the same place as mine. Her calling me Sir at the wedding. I've been dreaming about it ever since.

"Take a seat, Bridget." I gesture toward the luxurious chaise in the middle of the room.

The Underground chambers are all a little bit different, but this one is my favorite. It is the most like a home with the Persian rugs, the chaise, the coffee table, a four-poster bed against the hall and decadent mirrors hanging in various places for watching. Even the toys are out of sight, stowed in a wardrobe.

She follows my direction with ease, sinking down onto the settee and smoothing out her skirt as she does so.

Didn't even know today would be the day that changes everything, and yet she's wearing an absolutely life-altering outfit. Of course, everything she wears is, in my eyes, stunning. But today, it's like she felt what was about to happen to her.

Skin-tight, navy dress stopping mid-calf. Buttons all down the front. Heaven for a Dom who likes to unwrap his reward. To watch each inch unveil.

And oh, how I want to watch Bridget.

"Do you know what this is?" I step toward the table before the chaise and point at the papers on top of it.

Bridget nods. "It's a contract."

"Good." I hold back on the ‘girl.' Just barely. Because that's going to push us both over the edge. "This is a standard contract for tonight only. If we decide we want to continue after that, we will go over everything, and you will need to catalog all your hard and soft limits and we will talk about each of them at length. Since we won't go too deep tonight, I stated my limits in the contract as well as a few I think you will agree with."

I push the contract toward her. "Take a look and see if there's anything you would like to add or remove."

This contract is standard here in the club for new subs and new Doms that just want to scene for the night before really committing to the Underground side of the club.

The last thing I want to do is cross any of Bridget's limits tonight. Especially since I'm not even sure she knows her true limits yet.

After the well of silence, Bridget takes the pen from beside the paper to sign.

I hold up my hand. "Read it again."

She nods, places the pen back down, and does as I ask. It sends a shockwave of delight into my groin. That wasn't meant to be a test, but she's already so good at obeying directions.

I just…need this to go right. I need it to be perfect.

Because while we've agreed to the night, I know I'm not going to be satiated unless I have her much longer than that.

Probably forever.

I pack that thought away. No use thinking about forever when we haven't even started.

Bridget clears her throat. "I've read it again. May I sign?"

I withhold a smile.

She's so dear, trying to be all good and proper. How could that not make me smile? "You may."

She picks up the pen, signs, and places it back down with utmost care.

"Good."

The corners of her lips tick up.

"If at any point you find yourself feeling unsafe, you will tell me with a safe word. Going forward, if that is what we decide to do, you may choose one. For tonight, let's keep it simple and use the colors of a traffic light. Green means you are enjoying what I'm doing, and we can keep going, red stops everything and the scene is over. We will talk about why and what happened, but we are done scening for tonight. Yellow is almost like a pause button. The scene doesn't stop, but is put on hold, and we talk about what you are unsure of or what's making you uncomfortable. Does that make sense?"

Bridget nods. "Yes."

"The first thing you need to learn, Bridget, is that communication is the most important thing between a Dom and a sub. And in this dynamic, though it might not look like it, you have all the power."

"Wh-what do you mean? I thought you were in control."

I smile. "Oh, I am. Always."

Her flushing face has me fighting against myself with the need to touch her, to caress her soft skin, to feel her heat.

"But a word from you has the power to stop everything. That is why I said you have the power. And that is why we use safe words. Your consent is key here."

"So is yours." As her mouth gapes for a second before she bites her bottom lip, her eyes widen, and she lowers them to the table, almost as if she is afraid she just did something wrong.

But I am taken aback.

Because with her words, I am reminded of what we are risking by being here together. The reason I rented out the entirety of the Underground, have worked to keep it a complete secret, including ensuring Hazel's confidentiality with an extra tip.

We aren't just consenting to the dynamics between a Dom and a sub.

We are consenting to never being able to go back to what we were.

"I'm sorry," Bridget says in a soft tone. "I shouldn't have–"

I clear my throat to cut her off.

She's done nothing wrong.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

She nods and keeps silent.

I stand before her with my hands behind her back. "First, I'd like you to put your hair up in a ponytail."

"I…don't have–"

I pull a scrunchie out of my pocket and hold it out to her. "You should never question that I'm prepared, Bridget."

She nods before taking it from me, a cautious raise of her green eyes to meet mine. "Thank you."

"Look at me while you do it. In the eyes."

Bridget sits up straighter and collects the dark tresses of her hair into a ponytail. Eyes not leaving mine.

My heartbeat quickens.

I knew she'd be a good girl. But for me? Is it possible?

She snaps the elastic into place, the ponytail waterfalling from the back of her head.

"A ponytail…" I circle to the back of the chaise. "Is a tool of your own making that I can use." I run my hand through her hair, rolling it around my fist until I have a firm grasp on it. "You understand?"

"Yes, I understand"

I release the ponytail, though my instinct is to yank her head back and kiss her on the lips. "Good."

Looking at her bare neck, I can't wait to see my collar there, branding her as mine for all to see. I've never trained a sub, never had the opportunity to bestow a collar. It all hinges on tonight.

Regardless of what happens, though, I still want the full fantasy. I want to know what she will look like with my collar on. So, I remove a thin, blue ribbon from my pocket, a chocker that clasps at the back. It is simple and it is fragile. Like tonight. Like our budding sub and Dom dynamic.

However, I intend for this night to be a courtship like no other.

I raise the choker between my fingers. "Will you wear this for me, Bridget? We'll call it a consideration collar of sorts. Just for tonight. If you accept."

She smiles, this time with teeth. Her cheeks glow. "Yes, I accept."

Relief floods through me.

"Let me put it on you…" I try to keep myself steady. "That way we can practice the ritual to the fullest extent."

Hopefully one day, I'll get to do this for real. A real collar. My collar. And Bridget…

She'll be mine.

I take ribbon in both of my hands. Feels as light as a feather, something that might blow away in the wind.

"Stand," I command her.

She does so. I guide her out from behind the table to stand with her back to me.

I loop the small band around her neck.

Bridget's skin breaks out in goosebumps.

I clip the choker closed, then turn her back around to observe how it looks against her skin. Pale white and deep blue.

How I want to add red to the mix by marking her skin with my teeth.

In due time…

"There. Beautiful." I drop my hands to my sides. "During your training, you will address me as Sir. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

I inhale as deep as I can to keep from coming straight away. I haven't waited all these years only to waste the night. "You will keep your eyes down unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

A smile appears on her lips, her eyes veiled by her long ink lashes. "Yes, Sir."

I run my teeth over my lower lip. "Good girl."

Though she can't speak, the minute movement of her lips tells me how good that felt.

I cross to the armoire of toys and grab a pair of soft cuffs for her wrists, ignoring the gleaming spreader bar hanging on a hook.

The image of her splayed before me sends another shock to my pelvis.

Soon.

If I don't take it one thing at a time, I risk making a mistake. Risk ruining her trust and faith in me as a Dom. As a man.

Domination is a high wire act, a constant negotiation of exercising my authority and reading my sub. She is the center of my world while we are scening, and all I do is for her pleasure, even over my own.

"You like to be called a good girl, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir." Her eyes are on the floor.

I chuckle to myself. "Kneel, pet."

Bridget hurries to obey. So eager.

"If you like to be called good girl, you will continue to act like one. So, from this moment forward you will not speak unless I address you first."

"Yes, Sir," she says in such a simple, reflexive way, it takes her a second to realize she's spoken out of turn.

Bridget smacks her hand across her mouth and looks at me. When our eyes meet, she realizes another rule has been broken and she claps her eyes closed.

"Now, now, Bridget." I shake my head. "I know you know better than that. I guess you're just too excited for your own good."

I go over to her.

From her tense posture, I can tell she is bracing for punishment.

Running my hand through her ponytail again, I let the moment linger and tremble.

She will not know it's coming, nor does she deserve it. But this is too good an opportunity to waste.

I wind her hair around my hand and pull back.

Bridget lets out a gasp that she tries to muffle by shutting her lips.

"I told you that you couldn't speak. Not that you shouldn't make a sound," I say through clenched teeth.

Bridget breathes heavily. Cheeks flooding with color.

"Are you enjoying this?" I smile.

She nods.

"I asked you a direct question, pet. I need your words when that happens."

"Yes, Sir. I am, Sir." She keeps her eyes averted. Good girl.

But not what I need.

I pull her hair more, bending her back further. This time, she lets her sounds free, a loud cry. But it's not pain. Shock and… arousal?

"Look me in the eye and say it again."

Her green eyes blink open and meet mine.

I almost falter. Almost end the scene.

She is sixteen again, the pretty teenager who sat across from me at dinner as we met for the first time, the pretty, shy girl who couldn't look me in the eye more than a second at a time.

My pretty little sub. From the beginning.

"Yes, Sir," she says, throat straining.

I want to kiss her, want to bite her neck, want to plunge my hand into the bodice of her dress and feel her breasts. "Say you're sorry," I say, stone-faced.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Good." I push her back onto her feet and release her hair.

I'm having to breathe quicker to keep up with my heart rate. "A good sub should be naked."

Bridget's hand flies up to her collar.

"Everything but the collar." As soon as I say the words, I have half a mind to tell her she doesn't have to. That this is all a mistake. I know she's agreed to my demands, but I can't help but feel–

Her hand drops to the top button on her dress.

She undoes it.

I try to stay composed, but holy fuck, it's impossible.

Bridget undoes each and every button, one by one, fabric parting more and more to reveal the pale skin of her sternum, her belly, her thighs.

In one go, she lets the dress drop from her arms, leaving her in just a matching black underwear set and a pair of black pumps.

Of course she's wearing matching underwear. For one, she's Bridget. And for another, she's Bridget Vance, lingerie designer.

Fuck, how did anyone ever expect me to stay away with that job description?

Bridget goes for her bra first, not the shoes, which is a darling example of her fluster.

I've never had a sub so flustered, only experienced ones. And the ones who I've asked to act na?ve no longer quite grasp the true newness of it all.

She unsnaps the bra and it slides down, exposing her breasts.

Her nipples tighten, the bud poking out.

She drops it to the side, still following instructions and not looking at me.

It's all happened so fast, I'm not sure how to process it.

Her nearly naked pale form is exquisite. The bones of her hips protruding against her underwear, a tiny softness at her middle, breasts fuller than they look when they're trapped in her clothes.

I want to kiss every inch, want to worship every piece, want to claim her. A collar won't be enough, nothing ever will.

"You're fucking gorgeous," I say in a voice lighter than I anticipate. I'm marveling and I can't be stopped. "Like a sculpture."

Bridget twitches and looks away, but with her hair in a ponytail, she can't veil herself away from me.

Her hands ball up at her sides. She doesn't know what to do with herself.

How long has it been since someone has seen her like this? Could I be the first?

Bridget hooks her thumbs into her underwear, but I step forward and grab one of her wrists to stop her. "No. That's mine. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

I want to be the one to slide her panties off. Like a present that I can't wait to unwrap.

I am so close. For a kiss. One kiss.

What kind of Dom am I to melt at the thought of one kiss?

But her glossy cherry lips look like they'd be sweet, and her pink tongue would feel perfect rolling against mine.

Not yet.

"On the bed. Now."

I release her, and she is quick in her high heels, close to tripping up the two stairs to the platform the bed sits on.

She crawls onto the bed, her ass in the air, and then lays in the center of it.

Unlike her hurriedness, I take my time striding over, twirling the cuffs in my hands. "Restraint is a form of control. Not everyone likes it. Not everyone can handle it." I approach the side of the bed. "I'd like to try these on you. I'm only asking this time, because you didn't set it as a limit, but I want to make sure just the same."

Bridget looks even better lying down. Christ almighty.

"So, pet, if you agree, arms up."

She rests her arms over her head on the bed.

"Good girl," I coo.

Bridget bites her lip. I wonder if it is to keep from moaning or smiling.

"You don't have to hold back." I sit at the edge of the bed. "Unless you're being a brat. Then I'll punish you for that. Clear?"

"Clear, Sir," she says.

I run a hand up the length of her arm, then wrap a cuff around her wrist, connecting it to the bed frame that has been crafted for the exact purposes of BDSM.

There are hooks and loops for whatever one might need for restraining, swinging, straddling. The list goes on.

"Comfortable?" I test how tight they are by fitting my pinky finger between the cuff and her wrist. I want her restrained, not hurt.

Bridget rolls her wrist around. "Yes, Sir."

I nod and move to the other side of the bed and cuff her other wrist, repeating the process.

"Color, pet?"

"Green, Sir."

With both her arms over her head, her body is stretched and long, a masterpiece waiting to be birthed. A canvas to paint as I please. Clay to mold to my will.

However, this scene is not about me. It's about her.

"I realize you might have expectations about what should be happening or what should have happened by now, especially since you've watched so many scenes, but think of it like I'm taking your temperature," I say. "I want to know where your strengths and weaknesses are so we can both enjoy as much as possible. We have all the time in the world, so I want to take my time and make this right."

Bridget's chest rises and falls, her breasts begging to be touched.

"Does that make sense, pet?"

"Yes, Sir."

I climb onto the bed and straddle her, then press my palms into the mattress by her head. "So, before we really begin, we have two punishable offenses to deal with… if I remember correctly."

Bridget seals her lips together, eyes wide. Pupils dilated. Body open.

She is enjoying this.

What I would like to do is kiss her senseless. However, punishments must be doled out.

I dismount her. "Roll your legs to the side, sub."

Bridget follows directions, exposing her barely clothed rear.

That fucking ass is swallowing her thong completely.

I slide my hand across her bare ass cheek for a few seconds. Caressing and enjoying the feel of her on my skin. How long have I craved this?

Ten years.

Now I'm finally able to live my fantasies.

"This is for speaking out of turn." I draw my hand back and smack her. With less than half the power I know I have. Way less than she should be able to take.

Bridget lets out a quick, "Hm!"

I'm preparing her as well as myself as the light tingle dissipates through my hand.

I twist her legs back so she's flat on the bed. "This–" I mount her again, eyeing her breast. "Is for not calling me ‘Sir'."

I descend upon the swell of her breast, above the nipple and bite down. Enough to mark. Enough for her to feel it. Not enough to break the skin.

I want her to hurt, but I also want her to enjoy it, even if this is supposed to be a punishment.

Bridget yelps and squirms under me. The links on her cuffs rattle. Her pelvis rises to meet mine, causing me to buck.

Fuck.

I bite harder.

She moans but settles down.

When I'm happy, I pull away, favoring the slick image of my teeth marks on the skin of her breast.

That will leave a mark tomorrow. So she can remember.

"Look me in the eye," I growl.

When our eyes meet, my strength eludes me. Because her eyes are begging. For release. For more.

Now. I have to do it now.

Each of her breaths creates gravity, pulling me closer and closer, inch by inch until we are centimeters away.

"I need to do this," I say.

Though it breaks protocol, I don't care when Bridget responds with a desperate and whimpering, "Please."

I need this just as badly as she does.

Our lips collide with a harsh neediness, starting at a level ten of passion. Lips pressing, tongues winding.

I am a lost cause for Bridget. For her mouth. For her touch.

I don't know if I can do this.

I break the kiss, pulling away, though Bridget's mouth hungers for more. "Stop," I say, a mere croak.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Did I hurt you?" Her eyebrows raise with concern.

"No, no, I just…" I run my hand down over my mouth. "I'm afraid I might lose myself. Because I…want you so bad."

Bridget is quiet for a moment. She's about to tell me to release her from her restraints and disappear from the Underground never to be seen again until the inevitable family dinner we have to sit across from each other and pretend like we were never here.

I brace myself. This is it. I screwed up everything.

Instead, she smiles. "So, lose yourself. Sir."

I want to. So bad. "I can't."

"Seth."

My name is a shock to my system. As much as I love hearing her call me "Sir," the sound of my name brings me back to myself.

"I want you, too," she says. "Please. I'm begging."

I screw my eyes shut. "Fuck, Bridget."

"What, what's wrong?"

Through my haze of arousal, I take her in.

Hair splayed on the pillow, breasts aching to be touched, her beautiful, wanting expression.

I swallow, a lump of desire dropping into my belly. "I can't resist begging."