He normally didn’t take so much time reminding me of my safe words or in this case, safe out signal. For the first time in a long while, I felt a twinge of nervousness.

“If you don’t have any objection, I’m going to insert the earplugs.”

My fist tightened on the bell. I didn’t want to drop it, but I felt reassured just knowing it was there.

He waited a few more seconds and then I was plunged into total nothingness.

Everything was already black from the blindfold, but it wasn’t until the earplugs were put in that I felt truly vulnerable.

There was nothing but silent darkness and I was naked and exposed. I allowed the feelings of being in such a position to wash over me, only relishing the fear because I felt completely safe.

I waited for Nathaniel’s touch. When I’d been in similar positions before, I’d jump when he touched me, and this time I wanted to be prepared. I waited for his touch, anticipating it on my back, or my breasts, or my ass. But there was nothing.

There was no movement at all that I could perceive. Just stillness and darkness and silence. Nathaniel would never leave me alone in such a state. I knew he had to be in the room somewhere. But my mind wandered. He could have walked out of the room and left me all alone. I wouldn’t have been able to tell.

The silence became deafening, and I imagined I heard the shuffling of feet or a creak of the floorboard. The stillness hummed inside my head and I heard my heart beating and felt the movement of air in and out of my lungs. It was the only thing to grasp on to, so I focused on my breathing.

Even though I said I would anticipate his touch, the first sweep of his fingers down my back made me jump. He pressed against me, and his body shook with laughter. I smiled. Some things never changed. With a quick kiss to the nape of my neck, he was gone.

I was prepared for his touch, but the sharp press of metal along my upper arm almost made me drop the bell.

Is that a knife?

I knew it wasn’t. Blood play was one of my hard limits. But it felt like a knife and it had stung and, holy shit, there was something wet on my skin. Panic clawed at my throat.

The feel of metal left my skin and his arms surrounded me, hugging me tight.

I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

I repeated the words over and over in my head, and relaxed into his arms. Gradually, my racing heart slowed and the panic disappeared. He took a step back and the sharp pain returned, skimming along the other arm. I lifted myself up on my toes and twisted to get away from it, but he slapped my butt as a reminder I was to be still.

I argued with myself. It felt so much like a knife, it had to be a knife. But just as certainly, I knew it couldn’t be. He would never go against my hard limits.

Trust him. The scene was all about trusting him. And I trusted him enough to know beyond a shadow of doubt, he wasn’t cutting me.

I felt the next sweep of whatever instrument it was around my breast, and though I’d told myself it wasn’t a knife, it again felt sharp. I tried to protest around the gag in my mouth. But of course I couldn’t. He dragged whatever it was up across my nipple. It hurt, but it wasn’t a constant pain. I sucked in my breath. That meant it wasn’t a knife, right? I couldn’t decide. For long seconds there was nothing, just my mantra repeating in my head: I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.

He circled the other breast and, fuck it all, it felt as if he was slicing my skin. My fingers tightened around the ball. But right before I dropped it, I realized the liquid couldn’t be blood; there wasn’t enough.

I waited for the next pass and he surprised me by pressing it down my side. I gasped around the gag. He didn’t stop, but brought it around my back and up the other side. I jerked against the pressure, but he wouldn’t stop unless I dropped the bell.

Trust.

Trust.

Trust.

I focused on that one word, and before long, I was drifting in my head. I trusted him with my life. He held my soul in his hands and would protect me.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I realized he was simply holding me. He’d somehow managed to unbuckle me without me noticing. He stood behind me, his arms once more wrapped tightly around me.

His hands came up and gently, one at a time, he removed the earplugs. Sound came back to me in a loud whoosh. But it was his voice I listened for, and when it came it was low and husky.

“I’m so proud of you. I know that was intense.”

I still had the gag on, so I couldn’t speak, but I nodded to show him I’d heard.

“I’m going to remove the gag now,” he said.

It fell away and I worked my jaw open and closed several times.

He wiped my mouth with a soft cloth. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Master.” I couldn’t say much else because I felt I was still on sensory overload.

“I’m going to remove the blindfold.”

I closed my eyes, knowing even the dimly lit playroom would appear bright after I’d been in the darkness for so long. Even when the blindfold was removed, I kept my eyes closed for a minute. Then I slowly eased them open.

The first thing I did was look down at my body. I couldn’t help it. As I suspected, there were no cuts, only faint red lines that appeared to be fading quickly.

“Go ahead and look,” he said. “I don’t blame you at all.”

My mouth felt as if I’d eaten cotton for dinner, but I managed to get out “What was that, Master?”

His only reply was a chuckle. “Top-secret Dom tool.”

I turned in his arms. “I knew you wouldn’t cut me, Master.” And as I said the words out loud, their significance hit me.

He wouldn’t cut me emotionally, either.

Chapter Four

NATHANIEL

I arrived at my New York City office about three hours before my meeting with Charlene. I’d planned to get some work done while I waited, but I found myself unable to concentrate. My mind kept returning to the night before. I felt at a loss because I didn’t know how to break through and alleviate Abby’s suspicions about Charlene.

I gave up on working and walked over to the large picture window in my office. I watched the general flow of people on the street far below and decided I needed some air.

I’d always felt there was something to be said for allowing oneself to get lost in the city, to become one with the crush of people. The city was alive, and to mix in and become part of it was to feel that life seep into your soul and revive the sluggish parts.

For the next forty-five minutes I simply walked. The last time I’d gone for a pleasure walk in New York was in December when Abby and I had gone Christmas shopping. Now I walked by a few of Abby’s favorite shops, wishing she was with me. Before I knew it, I found myself going into a rare-book store that she loved.

Though my parents had been avid book collectors and had built the estate’s massive library, it wasn’t until I shared the space with Abby that I truly learned to appreciate it. We had added a few volumes to the collection over the years, but we were always looking for more.

The shopkeeper, Jeremiah, saw me and waved me over. He was an older gentleman with white hair and walked with a hunch. Perhaps from spending so much time bent over one of his beloved books.

“Mr. West,” he said with a grin when I made it to the worn wooden counter. “I was going to call your wife. I had a book come in earlier this week that I think she would like.”

I didn’t doubt him. Before we had kids, Abby and I would visit the shop on weekends and she would go through boxes of books with Jeremiah. I’d enjoyed simply standing nearby and watching her joy at new discoveries.

“What do you have?” I asked, peering over the counter.

“First-edition Lord Byron—1815 Hebrew Melodies.” He stated it with pride.