thinking, she looked away. It was ridiculous, this automatic obedience. And where just a few moments ago she’d been relieved to push the chest and its contents out of her mind, now all she could think about was what was inside. It was very awkward to try to reach into the chest without looking; she had to sort of bend sideways, keeping her eyes averted. The robe slipped further, and she remembered not to touch it. Her breast would be visible now.
Her fingers felt something round, and she clasped it. Must be the black bar . Safe enough, she supposed. She didn’t really know. She lifted it out of the chest and looked to Jackson.
“Stop there. Now answer: yes or no?”
She still didn’t understand. Ava wasn’t someone to do things she didn’t fully understand. How could you plan, how could you decide how to present yourself if you didn’t know what you were doing?
“Answer me, Ava. Quickly.”
“Yes.”
That surprised her. She’d said yes, blindly. Jackson smiled. He looked satisfied. His eyes flashed, and he leaned forward.
“Good. Look at it. Do you know what it is?”
It was the black bar, obviously. She hefted it and shook her head.
“It’s called a spreader bar.”
Ava felt her whole body stiffen. A spreader bar. It was probably exactly what it sounded like. She looked at it more closely and saw attachments, cuffs. A dull beat had started somewhere deep inside her, something she felt right behind her clit. She licked her lips and looked at Jackson. He was grinning again, that same damn grin.
“Look at you, catching on,” he said. “Or so you think. You know what, we’ll switch the order up. Give me another answer.”
“No.” He raised an eyebrow, and she quickly said, “I mean, that’s my next answer. No.”
Now he laughed at her. “Just out of spite, huh? Thing is, Ava,” he said, leaning even farther forward, his hands coming together in front of him like he was making a very grave promise, “you might regret that.”
She didn’t have time to figure out what that meant. The next set of questions went quickly. She got tired of guessing what his game was, of trying to figure out what she was saying yes or no to, and the more fatigued she got, the more she said yes. She never would have predicted that, but Jackson didn’t seem surprised. And by the end, she had a pile of toys—or pieces of equipment, or whatever they were—in front of her, each and every one representing a kind of promise. If she looked at any one of them for too long, she got nervous, and scared. That’s when she looked back at Jackson.
She was even wetter than before.
“Now,” he said, “do you want to know what the questions were?”
She looked nervously at the riding crop. “Of course I do. But I can guess,” she said too quickly.
That impulse felt familiar, the impulse to be right. To be ahead of the curve. To be in control.
“You can guess,” he said smoothly, “but you’ll be wrong.”
Ava couldn’t stop herself from piping up again, even though she knew she was pushing her luck. “It was about what…things we’ll use,” she said, gesturing at the pile in front of her.
“Sort of. I just had you take that stuff out to mess with you,” he said, smiling, “and because I got to watch your face while you did it.”
She was only half kidding when she said, “You bastard.”
He rose, lightning quick, and pulled at the tie that held her robe closed. All the lights were on in the apartment, and it had started to get dark outside. The huge window loomed over Ava, reminding her that she’d soon be completely visible.
“I will spank you, Ava,” he said. He was very calm. “And I’ll do it right in front of the window.”
She honestly couldn’t tell if she wanted that or dreaded it. What had he already done to her?
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Take off the robe.”
She hesitated and he did it for her—the third time in less than a day that he’d stripped her—leaving her naked
Her fingers felt something round, and she clasped it. Must be the black bar . Safe enough, she supposed. She didn’t really know. She lifted it out of the chest and looked to Jackson.
“Stop there. Now answer: yes or no?”
She still didn’t understand. Ava wasn’t someone to do things she didn’t fully understand. How could you plan, how could you decide how to present yourself if you didn’t know what you were doing?
“Answer me, Ava. Quickly.”
“Yes.”
That surprised her. She’d said yes, blindly. Jackson smiled. He looked satisfied. His eyes flashed, and he leaned forward.
“Good. Look at it. Do you know what it is?”
It was the black bar, obviously. She hefted it and shook her head.
“It’s called a spreader bar.”
Ava felt her whole body stiffen. A spreader bar. It was probably exactly what it sounded like. She looked at it more closely and saw attachments, cuffs. A dull beat had started somewhere deep inside her, something she felt right behind her clit. She licked her lips and looked at Jackson. He was grinning again, that same damn grin.
“Look at you, catching on,” he said. “Or so you think. You know what, we’ll switch the order up. Give me another answer.”
“No.” He raised an eyebrow, and she quickly said, “I mean, that’s my next answer. No.”
Now he laughed at her. “Just out of spite, huh? Thing is, Ava,” he said, leaning even farther forward, his hands coming together in front of him like he was making a very grave promise, “you might regret that.”
She didn’t have time to figure out what that meant. The next set of questions went quickly. She got tired of guessing what his game was, of trying to figure out what she was saying yes or no to, and the more fatigued she got, the more she said yes. She never would have predicted that, but Jackson didn’t seem surprised. And by the end, she had a pile of toys—or pieces of equipment, or whatever they were—in front of her, each and every one representing a kind of promise. If she looked at any one of them for too long, she got nervous, and scared. That’s when she looked back at Jackson.
She was even wetter than before.
“Now,” he said, “do you want to know what the questions were?”
She looked nervously at the riding crop. “Of course I do. But I can guess,” she said too quickly.
That impulse felt familiar, the impulse to be right. To be ahead of the curve. To be in control.
“You can guess,” he said smoothly, “but you’ll be wrong.”
Ava couldn’t stop herself from piping up again, even though she knew she was pushing her luck. “It was about what…things we’ll use,” she said, gesturing at the pile in front of her.
“Sort of. I just had you take that stuff out to mess with you,” he said, smiling, “and because I got to watch your face while you did it.”
She was only half kidding when she said, “You bastard.”
He rose, lightning quick, and pulled at the tie that held her robe closed. All the lights were on in the apartment, and it had started to get dark outside. The huge window loomed over Ava, reminding her that she’d soon be completely visible.
“I will spank you, Ava,” he said. He was very calm. “And I’ll do it right in front of the window.”
She honestly couldn’t tell if she wanted that or dreaded it. What had he already done to her?
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Take off the robe.”
She hesitated and he did it for her—the third time in less than a day that he’d stripped her—leaving her naked
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