A Masochist's Adventures in Wonderland
Chapter 17
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I pushed myself up on my elbow and looked around for the second time. I was still lying in Ash’s bed—but facing him this time.
He was awake and looked up at me waiting for me to respond—or do something.
I stared down at him trying to figure this out. He was back to being his usual level-headed, easy-going self.
He lay on his side as relaxed as anyone could hope. He didn’t act dominant at all—not the way I understood it.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked.
“What are you doing?”
He frowned. “What do you mean? I’m lying here.”
“But what are you doing? Why are you just lying there?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“You aren’t treating me like a submissive. You’re just….there.”
He laughed. “I’m here.”
I frowned again. I didn’t understand this.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Am I not acting dominant enough for you?”
“What would you do if I said yes?”
He laughed again, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there with his back to me and talked to me over his shoulder. “You have the day off work today. What would you like to do?”
I frowned at him. I couldn’t understand what he was doing or why he was acting like this.
He acted like we didn’t have a dynamic at all. He didn’t even act like we were dominant and submissive anymore.
Is that what last night was—the end of our dynamic? That sex we just had a few minutes ago seemed to suggest the exact opposite.
I opened my mouth and hesitated to say it. What if he took it the wrong way?
“Are you saying….are you saying I could do anything…like anything I wanted….and you would go along with it?”
“I’m not promising anything, but if it’s something within reason, I don’t see why not.”
“Shouldn’t you be the one deciding what we do?”
He laughed again without turning around. He got busy straightening out his socks and tossing them into the laundry basket in the corner. “I am the one deciding. I just need to know what you want to do so I can decide if that’s what we’re going to do.”
I opened my mouth for the second time, but I still didn’t say it. Should I?
He didn’t see me opening and closing my mouth like a fish while I tried to decide what to say.
I finally blurted out, “Where are you actually from?”
He spun around and frowned at me. “What do you want to know that for?”
“I don’t know anything about you. If you want to know what I want to do today, I would like to get to know you—really get to know you. I want to know everything about you—everything I don’t know about you.”
He burst into a beautiful smile, bent over, and kissed me on the cheek before he stood up and started pacing around the room doing something or other.
“I’m originally from Michigan,” he told me over his shoulder. “I was born and raised in Lansing, moved to the East Coast to go to college at Amherst, and moved here after graduation to pursue my business interests. All of that should be on public record. What else would you like to know?”
I studied him from behind. He went around picking up his clothes off the floor, straightening them out, hanging them in the closet, and putting his shoes away.
He showed no sign of being at all self-conscious about walking around naked in front of me. Why should he? I knew what he looked like. We just spent the night together.
“I guess that’s kinda the point,” I mumbled to myself. “I guess I want to know everything that isn’t public record.”
He smiled and actually blushed, but he didn’t turn to look at me. He looked down at his own hands coiling his belt into a circle.
“Anything you want to know about me, you only have to ask,” he replied over his shoulder. “I have nothing to hide from you.”
“Is there anything you want to know about me?”
He looked up, and seemingly for the first time, he looked right at me. He didn’t look away.
That look—it was definitely a dominant look.
He studied me across the room for a minute, came back, and stood over me while I still lay stretched out on the bed.
He dipped his chin once. “Get up.”
I didn’t know what he wanted me to do or why, but I understood his dominance.
I sat up on the edge of the bed. I was naked, too, so I guess that was how we were doing this now.
I looked up at him. Looking up at him from below seemed the most natural way to face him.
It made much more sense to deal with his dominance like this than to see him stretched out and relaxed on the bed like a normal man.
He slid his hand against my cheek and bent over to kiss me. That kiss built up higher….and hotter….and deeper….and stronger….
I got lost in that kiss…..until the moment when he slid his hand into my hair, clamped down hard into a fist, and pulled away.
His eyes blazed. My heart stopped when I stared up into those hard, dark eyes.
He didn’t slacken his grip on my hair. He straightened up, used his fist to pull me off the bed, and wrenched me down onto my knees in front of him.
He kept my head up so I had no choice but to look straight up into his eyes.
He towered over me glaring down at me smoldering in all his power. He could do anything like this. It could be something brutal. It could be something terrifying. It could be something mind-blowingly sexual.
“This is what I want to know about you,” he muttered under his breath. “This right here. Who do you belong to?”
“You!” I tried to say it out loud, but it came out as a cracked whisper.
“Who do you serve?”
“You!” I barely made any sound at all that time, but the word came from the bottom of my soul.
“Is this what you want—to kneel before me and feel that I own you?”
My lips said, Yes, but my throat hurt too much to make a sound.
“Do you want me to claim you—like this?”
Saying yes to that question hurt too much. Looking up at him like this felt like I might start crying.
I tried to kiss his hand, but he never let go of my hair.
“What will you do for me if I claim you?”
“Anything!” I whispered. “Anything!”
He unwound his fingers from my hair. He had to shake them loose from the tangles.
“Stay there,” he told me and walked off.
I buckled on my knees. The emotion of kneeling before him and saying those things cost me everything.
I never knew I could feel this for anyone—that I could offer myself to someone like this.
I never meant any words more. I never ached so much to make them true even if I didn’t know how.
He actually went downstairs and left me kneeling there. How long should I wait?
He came back upstairs carrying something in his hand. I couldn’t see it. Would it be another sex toy he planned to use on me?
He stopped in front of me and the same enthralling feeling overpowered me.
He really was free to do anything he wanted with me. If it was something brutal, if it was something terrifying, if it was something mind-blowingly sexual—I wanted it all as long as it came from him.
He opened his palm and fiddled with something in it with the fingers of his other hand. “Do you understand what a collar is?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” I choked.
He squatted down in front of me, spread out a long, delicate gold chain between his two hands, and looped it around my waist.
He clasped it at the front with a straight bar that fit through a ring on the other end. It hung cold and close against my skin. That feeling burned into me and left a mark that would never go away.
He stood up straight and clasped his hand behind my head again. His eyes bored into my deepest being.
“This is your chain—the chain that binds you to me and makes you mine. Never take it off under any circumstances unless it’s an emergency or you get my permission first. Do you understand? Keep it on in the shower—at work—when you sleep in your bed—always. If you ever take it off, I expect you to give me a damn good reason why.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”
“It’s less visible than a regular collar. No one will know about this but you and me—but know that this binds you to me always—no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing.”
My throat constricted. This was huge.
I couldn’t face him like this. The emotions became too much to bear.
I looked down at his feet while I forced out the words, “May I….May I please kiss your hand?”
“Of course.”
He held out his hand. I never felt such emotion as when I clasped his hand, shut my eyes, and kissed the back of his knuckles. I never wanted to be anything but his.
This bond—it exceeded any of the so-called love I experienced for any man I ever dated. It grew into something all-consuming and unbearably, almost painfully important.
He cupped my chin and raised my face to look straight into my eyes. His features actually trembled and his voice broke in a low, husky rasp. “I have never been prouder of any submissive ever. You have honored me beyond anything I ever thought possible. You are a blessing and a treasure. I look forward to every question you can ask me and every new layer of your heart I can uncover. I hope you are the last submissive I ever take—and I swear to you I will do everything to make that happen as long as you still want to do this.”
I couldn’t bear to hear those words and I couldn’t look at him with those words hanging in the air. I wrapped my arms around his knees and held on for dear life.
This felt like the best place in the world to me—the place I most belonged.
His hand fell on my head. He didn’t try to make me stand up or let go.
End of Chapter 17.
