“Why did you join Las Palmas?”
Taking a deep breath, Beth finally said, “I won’t answer that.” The answer revealed too many things, asked her to expose too much of her own weaknesses.
Master James searched her face. “And you have the right not to. But I have to ask—are you sure you’re submissive?”
Beth stiffened. “I’m a good submissive.”
“You’re a good rule follower. That’s not the same thing. When you think about submitting, what do you imagine, what do you want? I don’t mean physically. What do you want to feel?”
She almost left, almost stood up and walked away rather than answer. The last person to ask that was Master Leo at her interview for membership.
Master James cupped her neck, thumb pressed lightly to the underside of her jaw. The physical contact centered her.
“I want to not worry,” she whispered.
“Worry about what?”
“About if I’m saying the right thing, doing the right thing. I want to be with another person, but know that I’m being with them the right way.”
“And the rules of BDSM…that’s how you’ll know you’re doing it the right way.” He spoke slowly, as if he were processing what he was saying as he spoke.
“Yes.”
“Beth, I have to ask, are you, uh…”
She knew what he was saying. Plenty of people had either assumed or accused her of being on the autism spectrum. “Does it matter?”
“No, and it was rude of me to say anything.” His matter-of-fact tone lacked the pity she feared. “But I’m worried that this is some kind of coping mechanism, and not something you really enjoy.”
“Oh, I hadn’t considered that.”
Master James ran a hand through his hair. “In light of what I’m planning to do to you, I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were actually going to enjoy it.”
“You think I won’t?” The question was serious, but held a hint of teasing, something Beth wouldn’t have dared with anyone else. It was him—he made her behave this way. The only reason she dared was because he’d pleased her far more than anyone else had, making the idea that he wouldn’t please her laughable.
“Okay, now you’re just insulting me.” His lips twitched, the sparkle in his eyes inviting her to again tease him in turn.
“How am I insulting you?”
“You’re implying I can’t pleasure you.”
“I didn’t say that.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
Master James grinned. “What you’re saying is that in all your years as a member here, no Dom has really pleasured you.”
“Yes, so it’s not just you.”
Master James let out a bark of laughter and Beth lost control of her smile. This was fun.
Then Master James’s laugh faded to a grin and he looked pointedly to the side.
Beth was suddenly aware that there was no chatter and almost every eye was on them. If it had been a movie, there would have been a screeching record to accompany the silence that fell after her words.
She sucked in a breath and stared wide-eyed at Master James. He continued smiling, as if this were still funny, but all Beth could think was that she’d just insulted nearly a dozen Doms, some of whom might have used her before and would take it personally.
Beth pushed herself to the edge of the chair, ready to drop to her knees. Master James grabbed her around the waist.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
“A sub should never speak disrespectfully about a Dom,” she whispered frantically.
“A Dom should know how to pleasure a sub.”
Beth shook her head. “You’re confusing me. It’s a sub’s job to pleasure the Dom, in whatever method or manner they find pleasing. A sub should get pleasure from that alone.”
A strange laugh had Beth hunching her shoulders. The other Dom was back. He handed James a large bag. “Beth, my dear, if you really think that, then we’ve all failed you.”
The statement elicited a smattering of laughter from those closest to them. Someone said, “Do you hear that, pet? You job is to please me in whatever manner I want, so come here and give me a kiss.”
Beth was having trouble figuring out what was going on. “Are they laughing at me?”
“No. They’re laughing because that’s not the philosophy of most of the Doms here. Maybe if we were hanging out in the Iron Court it would be, but even then most Doms take pride in knowing they can make a sub come so hard she won’t remember her own name. Or pleasure her so well that pain becomes pleasure.”
“I still don’t understand.” She wanted to, but she didn’t.
“I’m guessing that Madame Cat, and others, thought that you derived pleasure from serving and being treated like an object. There are people with that kink—you’re just not one of them. You were sex misdiagnosed.” Master James stroked her cheek until she looked at him. “As illuminating as this has been, we’re done with this conversation. All you need to understand is that until Sunday evening you’re mine.”