"Yes, Master."
"Fine. You want to play it that way, then get naked and get on the couch."
"Yes, Master." He expected her to leave, but she stood up and silently stripped. He ripped his jeans open and pulled his cock out. It really wasn't hard yet, so he stroked it until it would do. He'd never had the stomach for selfish sex like this and hadn't done it since he'd been a teenager.
"Get on and ride it." She was startled by the order. He had always been a giving and generous lover, one who made sure she was ready. He knew she'd leave.
"Yes, Master." She wasn't ready for sex. She winced a little when she pushed his mushy cock into her dry pussy. She found the wetness a little deeper in, but not enough to lubricate for sex.
He pushed her off, spit on his hand, and rubbed it on his cock. "Try it now."
"Yes, Master." It went in more smoothly for him, but it didn't do much for her. His cock woke up when she surrounded it with her tight sheath. She rode it like he'd taught her to years ago. He liked watching her body undulate, sinuously working his cock with it. He reached for her clit, to bring her with him, but caught himself in time.
The minutes ticked by. She worked up a sweat, sheening her body in the lamplight. He just felt colder and even worse. He knew that he'd never cum this way. It didn't turn him on except at the basest level. It felt like rape to him. He'd intended to cum, then watch TV, the lowest common denominator of consensual sex. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted her to feel like shit, but it wasn't working. He was the one who felt like shit.
"Get off, Verrie. I can't do this."
She stopped moving, letting her body sink all the way onto his softening cock. She leaned against him, wrapping herself around him. He shut his eyes, soaking up the feeling of her warm breath against his neck. For some reason he felt that maybe, just maybe everything would be okay. It wouldn't be, his life was wreck and the tabloids were parked outside of his house waiting to see if he'd come out with some woman on a leash. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as tightly as he dared, because with her giving body and gentle heart against his, everything felt all right. "Verrie..."
"I love you, Master."
"I'm not a Dom anymore, Verrie. It's nilla for me from now on. But I can love you like you deserve to be loved, not like this. Never like this again."
She kissed the tip of his nose and smiled that knowing smile at him. He may have had doubts about this entire situation, but she didn't. She slid from his body and led the way to his bedroom. She stopped, a little shocked, in the doorway. The elegant four poster bed had been removed and nothing stood in its place beyond the mattresses on a naked frame. She cast a glance at him, a little uncertain for the first time. He should have felt vindicated, but he just felt bereft.
"I told you I wasn't into the scene anymore, Verrie." He tried to be as gentle as he could. "It's all gone."
Well, almost all of it. He'd kept her collar. He could never get rid of Verrie's collar, but she didn't have to know that. "Oh, Master," she sighed as if disappointed in him, "you told me that submission isn't collars, whips, or chains. Submission is from inside of me. A pure measure of my trust in you. The rest is just like lights on a Christmas tree. They're pretty and they seem like the most important thing, but the trunk of the tree is really what holds the whole thing up."
"Nilla only, Verrie. Don't try to make me into something I'm not anymore."
She didn't say anything, just stared at him unsubmissively with those clear eyes that saw entirely too much. He sat on his bed, still feeling the alienness of the bed with no posts. For lack of anything to do, he fiddled with his shoes, pulling them off. She dropped to her knees and took over. He thought about fighting her over it, but it was just easier to let her have her way. He was tired of fighting. Nilla people did this kind of thing all the time anyway. It didn't mean anything.
He stood up in his bare feet, automatically waiting for her to finish. She lifted her hands and removed his belt, then his pants. Rising smoothly, she pulled his shirt off until he was as naked as she. With her head bowed, she waited. He felt a flash of arousal followed just as quickly by a flash of irritation. She had to understand, he just couldn't be a Dom anymore. "Verrie, I can't--"
"I believe in you, Master." There was no hesitation, no dip in her tone, just firm conviction. "I trust you, Master."
She took the thin leather belt he'd been wearing and pressed it to his palm. Her delicate fingers closed his around it, then squeezed him. The leather felt good in his hands, almost as good as her touch. She met his eyes again, unsubmissive in her unflinching stare. "I trust you, Master. Do you trust me?"
Verrie held his eyes with hers, unwavering in her intent. Of course he trusted her, he wanted to say, but the words didn't come. She could hurt him. Drag his name through the media's muck, have him thrown in jail for aggravated assault. This time it would stick. He'd already lost everything to a sub once. His family had disowned him, he'd lost his job, and he could use his name if he wanted to conduct such simple business as buying gas or picking up dry cleaning. His landlord was evicting him and his shrink was convinced that he was full of misogynistic rage.
But this was Verrie. The only thing she wanted from him was himself. She'd even offered to pay for the drafting of a prenuptial agreement rather than run screaming to the police when he required it. Verrie, the gentle sub so terrified of her own sexuality that she apologized for her frigidity every time he'd touched her in the beginning. This was the woman who'd left him because he wouldn't let himself love her as much as she loved him.
"I'm afraid." He didn't know where that came from. He wouldn't admit terror to himself let alone anyone else. Ever. He wanted to snatch the words back. Verrie just nodded, understanding and saying nothing. There was no judgement in her eyes, just a quiet waiting. "I want to trust you." He fingered the leather belt. "Will you let me try?"
She smiled, transforming her from a serious mouse into a ray of sunshine. "Yes, Master! Yes!"
He didn't have anything ready to tie her up with or tie her to, now that the headboard was gone. His ties, he wasn't using them anyway, his job was gone. "In the closet, get all of my ties and belts that you can find and bring them here."
Her eyes immediately dropped to their feet, but he knew that she was pleased with him. He looked under the bed while she fetched the makeshift rope. It was crude and almost disgusted him to tie her up with such things, but the elegant leather and cuffs he'd used on her before were gone. It was possible to tie her to the legs that supported the bed frame, if there were enough ties. If not, he could just tie her hands.
"Take the blankets off." He took the ties and started knotting them. Once the bed was stripped, he tied her to it. He tied her legs so they couldn't move, spread eagled and secured to the bed. He tied her wrists together and instructed her to keep them over her head. He could probably have used the feet at the head of the bed, but that was too much trouble.
Max took a moment to savor the sight of a beautiful woman tied to his bed. There was nothing quite like it, particularly since it was Verrie. She was absolutely stunning when she was bound, even as tamely as a few ties. He wished he had the clips, clamps, gags, and various whips to bring her all the sensation she should have. Instead, he used his fingers to caress her smooth skin, then to pinch her nipples. She moaned and he couldn't resist it. He sprawled over her, taking her mouth with all of the longing of a five year separation. His fingers delved in between her legs and found her drenched. No other woman had ever been so ready for him and whatever he wanted to do. He played with her, bringing her close to orgasm a few times, then denying her the pleasure. He loved listening to her beg so sweetly for her orgasm and then pout when it was taken from her.
He spread the juices from her pussy onto her nipples, watching in satisfaction as they suddenly pinched and stood at attention. He rewarded their good behavior with a pinch that made her gasp. He wanted to fuck her, but not until they were both ready for it. The thin leather belt he'd been wearing sat waiting on his night table. He reached for it, then paused. Aggravated sexual assault was a charge that ruined a man's life.
"Please, Master, I need it just as much as you do." Her voice wound around his heart, but his hand shook. The judge would react violently, the jury even worse. "I trust you. Please, Max, try to trust me."
