He would bind me next. I sucked in a breath. He hadn’t bound me since Delaware, though why that was, I wasn’t sure. Nathaniel had decided on a rope bondage session because I’d told him that had been my favorite picture in the gallery.

He started at my shoulders and took his time, weaving the rope under and around my arms, tying them together in a way I imagined had to look fabulous.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he said. “Hands tied behind your back, your chest pushed forward. You’re passively begging me to do something to those sweet breasts.”

He walked toward the cabinets, and I imagined he was looking for nipple clamps. Instead, I jumped when the first strands of a flogger bruised against my exposed skin.

“I’m going to flog your breasts,” he said. “Make them red, because it makes me so hard to see my marks on you.”

He started with slow, easy strokes. It wasn’t one of his heavy floggers, so at first, the strokes felt like a sensual caress.

“What are your safe words, Abigail?”

“Green, yellow, and red.”

“What color are you now?”

“Green, Master.”

The sound of shuffling came from by my side. “Good, but I’m going to use a heavier flogger now. Let me know if it’s too much.”

I braced myself for the first stroke of the new instrument and sucked in a breath when the tails landed sharply against my skin.

“No harder than that,” he said.

I nodded, giving myself over to him, and placing my entire being in his capable hands. He didn’t continue for a long period of time, only a few minutes. My breasts were sensitive and couldn’t take too much stimulus. But he drove me right to my limit, taking me to where I knew I could go and then taking me a little further. Showing me as he did so that I was capable of so much more than I thought I was.

“Beautiful, Abigail,” he said, and though I couldn’t hear anything, I was fairly certain DeVaan was taking pictures of my reddened skin.

Nathaniel gently helped me stand and together we walked to the padded table. It would have been easy for him to remove my blindfold. But he didn’t. He was teaching me another lesson in trust. That he would lead and I could follow even when I couldn’t see with my eyes that it was safe to take the next step.

“Who’s holding on to you, my lovely?” he whispered.

“My Master,” I said.

“Will he ever lead you somewhere dangerous or unsafe?”

“No, Master.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he loves me,” I whispered back.

“He does,” he said, pushing me over so my cheek rested on the high table. “Spread your legs for balance.”

I thought for a moment I heard the soft clicking of a camera, but I wasn’t sure. I pushed the sound from my mind and turned my attention back toward Nathaniel.

Since our discussion and agreement weeks ago, our relationship was even stronger. Making time for us to explore our roles, giving those roles importance, had somehow strengthened every part of our lives together. We were more connected, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Somehow in making our schedule more structured, we’d found what had been missing all along.

Balance. Just as I was giving my body balance by widening my stance, by submitting to him and accepting his dominance over me, I was able to balance out all sides of myself. My submission, my family, my job–everything was grounded and held in place by the collar around my neck and the rings on my finger.

“Interesting thing happened yesterday,” Nathaniel said. “I realized it had been months since I read your journal. I’ve just been reading on your blog.”

Oh, shit. There was no telling what he had read in the journal. I suddenly remembered ninety percent of what I’d written in the journal over the last few months.

“There was quite the commentary on your thoughts about kneeling from when we were in Delaware.”

I gulped and forced the words out. “Yes, Master, I remember.”

“I briefly wished I’d never told you that nothing you wrote would be held against you.” He laughed softly.

I took that as a good sign.

“The end of that commentary was very different from the beginning.”

“Yes.”

From behind me came the crinkling of paper and I frowned.

“But even more interesting was this: Things I Know About Nathaniel,” he said with a smile evident in his voice.

He’d found the list I’d written the day I first met Charlene. “You weren’t supposed to see that, Master. I meant to take it out.”