He smiled. “Thanks.”

They worked in a comfortable silence. While freshening up in his bathroom, she’d feared breakfast would be strange. She’d wondered if it would be odd to sit at a table across from a man who’d turned her over his knee the night before. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t.

He watched her closely as she sat down, but then lifted the juice pitcher and poured her a glass. He was on his second helping of bacon before he asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Great. Never better,” she said, knowing it was damn near the truth.

“If you need anything, you’ll let me know?”

She nodded and buttered another piece of toast.

“Julie.”

His eyes were serious when she looked up.

“One of the most important things you need to know is a submissive must always be completely honest with her Dom.”

“Is that what we are?” She wasn’t sure she wanted a label yet. It had only been one night. Surely it took more than a night to make one a submissive.

He seemed to be examining her before he spoke. “There is no formal agreement between us, but I did serve as your Dom last night.”

His words made her insides quiver. Her Dom. Just thinking it made her shiver.

“Do you still have the paperwork from the meeting?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“If you want to explore submission more, I meant what I said, but I’ll need you to fill out the checklist. I’ll give you a copy of mine.”

She put her toast down, suddenly not hungry. “Makes it sound more like a business transaction than a relationship.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I like you, Julie, and I want to get to know you better. We can leave it at that for now. But”—he stroked her hand with his thumb—“if you’re interested in exploring what you’ve always wondered about, we need to do it right.”

She felt safe with him, felt secure in his hands. She’d enjoyed the previous night, and she had always wondered about BDSM. He was offering her a way to explore the part of herself she’d buried for so long.

“Do you have a blank checklist here?”

His gaze nearly burned her with its intensity. “I’ll print one off.”

Thirty minutes later she sat in his kitchen looking over a checklist, thinking to herself she had no business even attempting to fill one out. Daniel sat across from her, reading. He’d wanted to leave her alone while she completed the form, but she’d asked him to stay.

“Have you done all these things?” she asked.

“Not all, but I’ve done a lot.”

He said it matter-of-factly, like he was talking about riding a bike, rather than kinky sex practices. She glanced down at the list trying to picture him doing some of the things to her.

“There’s just, so much, you know?”

“Don’t let it overwhelm you, but whatever you do, don’t mark everything ‘Like to try.’ Everyone has limits. Establish yours.”

“Trust me, I have several hard limits marked.”

“No one should ever violate your hard limits. Discuss? Yes. Violate? Never.”

She set aside her pen for a moment. “That brings up a question—what happens if a Dom violates someone’s hard limit?”

“In our group, the individual in question would be forbidden to participate in anything we did and we’d inform others in the BDSM community as well. Depending on the offense, there might be other punishments inflicted.” His expression and tone of voice underscored how seriously he felt about the matter.

“I have a feeling you mean something more than being put over your knee.”

“By the time I finished with them, an over-the-knee spanking would be viewed as a reward.” The corners of his mouth lifted again. “Speaking of limits and spankings and knees, how’s the list coming?”

“Almost done.”

She went back to work, finishing up the remaining items and sliding the list across the table. Daniel took the piece of paper that had been sitting beside him and handed it to her.

“I wanted you to fill yours out without looking at mine. I didn’t want your list influenced by mine at all.”

She tentatively picked up his list and looked it over.

Holy shit, he hadn’t lied when he said he’d done a lot on the list.

Her eyes scanned the page for her hard limits to see how they matched up with his. “You have fire play listed as ‘likes a lot’?”

“Yes,” he said, reading over her list. “And I’m not surprised it’s a hard limit for you.”

“I know it’s not just lighting people on fire, I just—” She shivered. “No, thank you.”

He chuckled. “Keep in mind, limits can change. We can redo and revise as needed.” He spent a few more minutes reading over her list before speaking again. “If you’re still wanting to play and explore, I’ll look this over in more detail this week. You could come by next Saturday and we could play.”

Every nerve in her body responded to his words. Yes! Her heart raced and her breathing came in shorter breaths. She realized in that moment she wanted nothing more than to submit to Daniel. She wanted to be the one yielding and she wanted to yield to him.

Even though he sat across the table from her, she felt his presence as clearly as she did the night before when his hands were fisted in her hair while she knelt before him.

“Do you exchange checklists with everyone you play with?” she asked.

He leaned onto the table so his body rested on his arms. “Yes, everyone. You should never play with anyone before talking about limits. And as a senior member of the local club, I strongly recommend you get to know anyone before entering into a serious relationship.”

“Trust me. I’m all about the slow. I won’t be asking for a collar or anything any time soon.”

She meant for her words to put him at ease, to assure him she wanted to walk into the exploration with tiny baby steps. Yet when she mentioned a collar, his hands fisted on top of the table and then went back to normal so quickly, she wondered if she imagined it. She glanced up to his eyes. Calm and even, but something lurked behind them, she was certain.

“I think next Saturday is a great idea,” she said. “But I was wondering one more thing for today.”

He relaxed slightly. “Yes?”

“Will you show me your playroom?”

• • •

Daniel was glad he didn’t have any liquid in his mouth. As it was, he nearly fell out of his chair. “What?”

She looked all innocent-like. “Sasha said you had one. I’ve never seen one. I thought I’d ask.”

Yes, when she put it like that, it made sense. He supposed it wouldn’t be unheard of for him to show a person interested in submission a playroom. His only fear was that once he got Julie in his playroom, he would never want her to leave.

He rose to his feet. Best to do something about his growing erection before showing her the playroom. “I washed your clothes from last night. I’ll go get them and we can meet back here in ten minutes or so?”

After giving her the clothes, he spent the next ten minutes forcing his body into something resembling control. First, he took her checklist and firmly placed it on his nightstand. He wouldn’t look at it again until she had left. Then and only then would he memorize it while planning for the weekend to come.

Secondly, he gave himself a stern talking-to. He reminded himself that Julie was extremely new to BDSM, had no prior experience, and that he was putting himself in a situation that required delicate handling. One wrong move and not only would he lose her, but he could damage the beautiful submissive he clearly saw buried within her, yearning to be free.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, where she was already waiting, he thought he was in a fairly decent frame of mind. Julie appeared caught between nervousness and excitement, both underlined with a hint of lust.

He held out his hand. “Ready?”

Tentatively, she took it and he led her to the basement stairs. How did one go about this? he wondered. If he mentioned women were typically n**ed when they entered his playroom, would that only bring to her mind the fact he’d had other women? But of course she would know, he argued with himself. She knew him to be a Dom.

Still, he finally decided, knowing it and having him mention it were two totally different things.

He remained quiet.

When they stood before the closed door, he silently recited the pledge he always did before entering.

May I be found worthy of the submission given to me in this room.

May I remember it is a gift and not a right.

May I never punish in anger, speak without thinking, or act without knowledge.

May I never forget that in order to master another, I must first master myself.

Finally calm, he looked to Julie, waited for her to nod, and opened the door.

He tried to imagine he was looking at the playroom for the first time. Would she take in the beige walls first or the equipment?

Julie let go of his hand. “Can I look around?”

“Sure.” He stuck his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to hold on to her. “I’ll just stay here. Let me know if you have questions.”

She amazed him with both her curiosity and the easy way she took the lifestyle in stride. She walked around slowly, staring at the padded table, lightly running a finger on it. She stopped before his collection of floggers and didn’t touch, but seemed to take note of each. He tried hard not to envision using one on her.

Later, he told himself. When she was more accustomed to identifying as a submissive. After he had more of a handle on what she liked, what she craved.

She shivered when she moved on to the wall where masks and gags hung. He didn’t think it was a shiver of pleasure. The cane collection got a cursory nod and she tilted her head as she inspected the padded bench. She appeared so at ease with everything, it caught him off guard when she stopped short at the whipping post.

“What’s that?” she asked in a whisper.

Her voice held a note of anxiety he hadn’t anticipated. In less than two seconds, he was at her side, a hand on her shoulder. “Julie?”

“Is that a whipping post?”

He told her earlier a submissive had to be honest with her Dom. The reverse was also true. “Yes,” he said.

There was no mistaking her shiver at his affirmation. “Where you whip people?”

Silently, he cursed himself for being so blasé about her exploration of the playroom. “You can also use it for flogging and less intense play.”

“But you have a whip, like a bullwhip?”

He did, carefully tended to and practiced with weekly to ensure he stay proficient in its proper usage. “I think it’s time we left the playroom.”

“Show it to me.”

“No.”

“I marked the bullwhip as ‘won’t object’ on my list. Then I saw the . . . post . . .”

He breathed a sigh of relief; her reaction made more sense after she said that. “Sometimes we think we’re okay with something,” he said. “But when actually faced with it, we change our mind.”

“Just the thought of being strapped there, n**ed and exposed. Waiting . . . I want to change bullwhip to hard limit.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, but she didn’t move her gaze from the post.

“Look at me.” He took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Every submissive has a different need when it comes to sensation play. Some only desire a soft flogging, but others are hard-core masochists and require the bite of the whip. Part of play is to find where your need lies, but you get to be the one who ultimately decides how far you’ll go.”