I’m at a loss now. He just stands there staring at me and I have no idea what to do. “Now what? I’m not sure what you want.”

“Why not ask me, then?”

“OK.” I look up into his eyes, unsure if that’s allowed. Unsure of anything, really. But he’s sexy. Beyond the fact that he’s Vaughn Asher, the guy I’ve masturbated to for the better part of three years, he’s sexy in another way too. His smile looks genuine right now. Like I’m amusing him. And I don’t feel it to be condescending. It seems genuine. Like I give him pleasure.

I do want to please him, I realize. I’d like to please him. I’d like to keep him smiling. I’m probably more submissive than I’d care to admit and that scares me. Control is something I crave. It keeps my life orderly and neat. It helps me deal.

But ever since he peeked over my shoulder in the bar, I’ve lost sight of who I am. Snapping at him, chopping him in the throat. Who does that? Not me. That’s so not like me.

Even though many seconds have passed since I agreed to ask him and no words have come forth, he’s patient. He waits for me to be ready. He’s still smiling, and that comforts me and gives me courage. “Master,” I say softly as I continue our game. “What do you want me to do?”

He breathes out, like he was holding it in as he waited, and then he cups my face and places his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. “That, Grace. I want you to do that.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper back. The tide is coming in and the waves are bigger now, eclipsing my words so they are barely audible. “I don’t understand what that means.”

“I only respond to questions, Grace. Ask me a question and I will answer it.”

Why? I want to say it out loud. Why do I have to ask you the questions? Why can’t you just tell me? But I know why, so I don’t bother. He wants me to defer to him. To submit. Asking him for things gives him pleasure. It probably excites him erotically. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

He caresses my cheek with the back of his knuckles and then places a fingertip over my lips. “Suck on my finger, Grace. Gently, just very gently. Keep doing it as I talk.” I bite my lip, take a deep breath and then open my mouth so he can slip his finger inside. He places it on my tongue and I suck gently as he moves it back and forth. In and out. “I want you to think about everything I ask you to do. Just like you did a moment ago when you took your time deciding if you would ask me what I wanted. I don’t want you to say yes because I tell you to, Grace. I want you to say yes because you want to. Do you understand?”

He withdraws his finger and traces my lips, making them wet and slick with my own saliva. “Yes, Master,” I say. My voice is low and throaty.

“Good, girl. From now on I will call you girl, is that OK?”

“Do you call all of them girl?” I ask, feeling a tinge of jealousy. And where the hell did that emotion come from? I’m annoyed at the way he affects me.

“Does it matter if I do?”

“Yes,” I answer with an irritated clip to my word. “I’d like something else if that’s your standard pet name.”

He stares down at me for a few seconds, like my statement perplexes him. “Well, honestly, I don’t call them anything. I just give commands unless we’re in introductions or dismissals.”

Dismissals?

“So, no, girl is not my standard pet name. You will be my girl from now on.”

I nod and let out a breath. Things are getting weird. I have no idea what’s happening or how I got to this place with him so fast. It was like a switch went off and here I am, his girl. He’s good, I realize. He’s very good at this game. He’s been playing it a long time, I bet. He’s the master because here I am, standing before him as his submissive, when ten minutes ago I was chopping him in the throat.

“I can read the doubts on your face, girl. So let’s get the first one over with. Kneel, please.”

I look up at him, stunned.

“Girl,” he says calmly. “I said kneel.”

I swallow and nod, then kneel down in the sand. I keep my head down but his fingertips find my chin and lift it up.

“I’d like for you to look me in the eyes.”

I meet his gaze and realize he’s got nice eyes. Not beautiful nice, they are that too, but nice as in kind. They are not the eyes of a cruel man. Which is good. If I’m going to let this man have his way with me, then I’d like for him to at least be kind.

“Good, girl. I like when you obey. Feel my c**k with your hand.”

I stare at the thick bulge in his pants for a moment. It pushes against his suit trousers.

“Eyes up,” he says, correcting my chin with a fingertip lift. “Hand on my cock.” This time his directions come out stern. Not angry, but stern, like he means business.

I place my hand over his zipper area and stare him in the eyes. He smiles and I smile back.

“Play with it, girl.”

His dick fills up my palm and I wonder if I’d be able to wrap my hand completely around it. I squeeze, but it’s not very accessible. “May I take it out?” I ask. I look away from his eyes for a second because I have no idea where that question came from, but his hand guides my face back to him.

“Yes, you may please me however you want for the next few minutes, then I’ll ask you to do it the way I like it.”

“Why not just tell me how you like it?”