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she cutting off her nose to spite her face here? Just to show him that she called the shots? A small part of her—the part she was ashamed of—admitted that there was a likelihood she wouldn’t utter that word no matter what. Then she thought of what he’d said—about the trust and him keeping her secret should she be unable to continue. She’d be giving him a gift, one that spoke volumes regarding how she felt about him. She’d be handing herself over, all of her, including this nugget of separateness she’d been grasping to her chest so tightly, refusing to let it go.

    Shara shifted to become more comfortable on the playroom bed. Her wrists were bound to the far posts, the metal handcuffs on their tightest setting, clinking or scraping every so often against the poles. “What does the safe word even mean, John?”
    He stood at the foot of the bed and toyed with a flogger. The strands slipped between his fingers, reminding her of thick hanks of his hair. “It means to give oneself up, pet.”
    “I see. And in what way do you mean that?” The breeze from the open window cooled her overheated skin—especially that of her belly, scored as it was with criss-cross raised welts from the very strands that hung between his fingers.
    She had asked him to use it on her stomach rather than her arse, wanting to see what it felt like on even softer skin. To push herself. It had stung—God, it had stung—but the ends of those strands had met with the fleshy pillow just above her cunt opening, sending stunning vibrations to her clit. She had come after only ten strikes.
    He smiled. “When you speak it, you’re admitting you have had enough.”
    “Is that all it means to you?” She raised her eyebrows, knowing it went deeper than that. Everything went deeper with John.
    He stopped playing with the flogger. “No.”
    “Then tell me, tell me what else it means.” She wanted to get inside his head, like he was inside hers. She wanted to share all of herself with him—apart from that little nugget.
    “That you trust me to understand that you’re in control of yourself, you know your limits. And, in turn, it lets me know your limits for certain. Don’t forget, I will have been doing something to you that brings pain. I will have been watching your reactions, gauging when the pain level rose and how you reacted to it. I keep it in mind for next time, and as I near that point again, I become more alert, ready for you to say the safe word.”
    “But I haven’t said it as yet, John, and I doubt I ever will.”
    “Of course you will. One day.”
    “No,” she said, the word tinged with a little force. “I won’t.”
    “I could take that to mean you don’t trust me enough to know your limits, or that you can’t bring yourself to fully give yourself up. But that’s all right. It’ll come in time. Remember, we haven’t been together that long. Two years isn’t enough to know everything about a person. To feel comfortable enough to surrender all that you are.”
    “I trust you, John, I just…”
    “I understand, pet. Believe me, I understand.”

    And he did understand, she knew that. Knew it was she who had the problem and not him.
    He struck his palm hard, winced, then glanced at her. Smiled. “Are you ready, pet?”
    She nodded, several curt up-and-downs, thinking that she’d either come across as eager for him to begin or that she was convincing herself she was ready. She hoped he took it as the former—she was as ready as she was ever going to be. Closing her eyes, she listened to him moving to stand behind her, the brush of his trouser leg on the back of her knee a tantalising thrill. Those goose bumps skittered again—here, there, everywhere—and she licked her suddenly dry lips. Excitement and a tweak of fear roiled in her belly, and her cunt responded with involuntary clenches, her clit throbbing, expanding so that she got the over-full feeling that made her think it was going to pop from the strain