Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The wooden paddle sits in the ninth drawer. The silk rope in the tenth. The eleventh, a blindfold.
She chooses none of them. But pauses after closing the drawer holding the blindfold. Her gaze wanders up to her pile, like she’s imagining her own punishment before it happens.
She’s done this before, I realize. This isn’t her first time as a sub.
Giovanni mentioned she came out of a difficult relationship, so whoever this Dom was, he was probably an amateur. Violence and anger have no place in this lifestyle. It’s challenging enough with absolute trust. And there’s no way to build trust when consequences aren’t meant to build the slave up, but tear them down.
Emmaleen understands the assignment.
She’s building herself a scene.
She moves on. The twelfth drawer holds a ball gag. Emmaleen immediately closes this one, barely looking at it.
Hmm. That was a weapon in her last relationship. That Dom gagged her. Excessively, if her reaction is any indication.
The ball gag is more psychological than painful. Controlling the mouth—any kind of gagging, be it with a cock or a ball—is fundamentally stressful. It’s airway constriction. It demands silence. There’s no way to communicate.
It also signals ownership—your breath is mine, your throat is mine—and must be properly set up in the sub’s mind before use if the Dom wants to avoid this kind of reaction to the gag in the future.
Pooling saliva leads to drooling, which leads to humiliation.
Swallowing, something that happens without thought in normal circumstances, becomes very difficult.
The power dynamic is immediate and absolute.
Especially since the sub is typically bound during use.
New subs can go short periods of time with a gag in their mouth, but every girl has a specific limit on that time before instinct takes over and panic sets in. It’s the master's job to mitigate this type of reaction—to avoid it altogether is the goal.
But new Doms always fuck this up. Paradoxically, new Doms—especially if they are prone to anger and violence—tend to like the ball gag. It’s the ultimate control without having to touch the girl.
It's interesting that Emmaleen didn’t react this way to the collar and cuffs. She chose those tools, which means she finds them pleasurable.
I want to think about that some more, but Emmaleen is now picking up a horsehair whip. A small smile plays across her lips.
Is she remembering something?
Does this mean that there were good times with her last Dom?
Or is she simply picturing Giovanni using this whip on her?
It’s a tool of pleasure more than punishment. And the fact that she knows this is interesting in, and of, itself.
The fourteenth drawer presents a Wartenberg wheel—stainless steel with radiating pins, rolled across the skin with varying pressure. The sensation ranges from ticklish to painful depending on application. She picks it up, spinning it against her arm, testing its bite. Then puts it back.
The final drawer contains a leather flogger with dozens of thin tails. My technique with this implement is fluid, almost artistic—building from gentle thudding to precise stinging with incremental shifts in wrist position. I can maintain consistent stimulation for extended periods, creating a trance-like state where endorphins flood the system and resistance becomes physiologically impossible.
Leaving it where it lies, she closes the drawer.
She turns to face Giovanni, who looks like he’s been holding his breath through this entire act. The selection reveals everything—her fears, her limits, her hidden desires. Some submissives choose what terrifies them most, confronting fear directly. Others select what secretly arouses them, disguising desire as punishment.
The truly calculating choose what appears severe but affects them least.
Miss Take is clearly among the truly calculating.
Her choices were meant to manipulate the outcome.
Which is a bit infuriating.
But also exhilarating.
Because I now know that I don’t have to coddle her. I don’t have to baby her. I will still be careful, of course. But this act of control—this revelation of experience—has raised my expectations of her tomorrow, not lowered them.
Giovanni’s mind is probably spinning with fantasies—as is mine. My cock is still hard, my hand still jerking, but I’m not even close to coming. I will release once tonight, and I’ll save that release for something more than choosing punishment tools.
I know I cannot fuck her, not with my cock, at least. But I plan on pushing that rule to the absolute limit.
This realization is a comfort, so I allow myself a small fantasy, imagining how she might feel if I ever did get the chance to take her properly. To make her mine.
How she would clench around me.
How her body would yield if I were the one selecting her correction, applying it with my own hands rather than directing from a distance.
How her skin would flush under my touch, warming beneath my fingertips as I molded her resistance into surrender.
His game, his rules.
Sure.
Whatever gets him through the day…
18
Two days.
It's been two entire days since I walked back through Giovanni Bavga's front door with that stupid skeleton key mocking me from a hook, and somehow everything has shifted sideways.