CHAPTER FOUR
Damien studied his back in the mirror. Down both sides were four bloody claw marks. I licked my lips as I watched him. Now everyone will know you're mine. If you were fucking someone else, you probably won't be again until after those heal. And maybe I won't let them heal. I think I rather enjoy you marked up. I certainly enjoyed doing it.
My mind was a hellishly devilish place sometimes. While I knew I should be showing remorse for what I'd done, it was in the heat of passion. Surely, he couldn't get upset about that.
“Are you mad?” I asked anyway.
“No.” He grinned at me, that sexy mysterious grin that caused my body to pulse with want all over again.
How in the hell did he do that to me? We had just had sex, and I felt like I could screw him at least a dozen more times.
“I like it,” he told me before coming around the side of the bed and bending over to pick up his shirt and pull it back on.
“I have marked you mine,” I said playfully.
“That I am. Yours and yours alone,” he replied, though the emotion had left his voice.
I didn't care. His words made me swoon. Perhaps the claw marks weren't necessary, but it never hurt to visibly stake my claim.
“Did I pass my test?” I asked.
“You did well.” He flopped into the chair to watch me as I got dressed.
“You're a wicked man.”
“How so?”
“I saw what you were doing, analyzing me, figuring out what set me off.”
“It's important for me to know, as your Dominant, so I can pleasure you better.”
“And punish me better.”
“And punish you better,” he agreed with amusement in his voice.
“So what now?” I gathered my clothes and began getting dressed.
“Now I have some homework for you.”
Homework? I groaned. The very mention of the word made me regret asking. Damn his homework and pop quizzes.
“What kind of homework?” I asked, unable to hide my discontent.
“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”
“Well, my first class is at nine thirty, so I try to be up by seven.”
“Then I want you to start getting to bed by ten every night. It's important that you get between seven and nine hours of sleep. From now on, Monday through Friday, I want you to text me before you go to bed so I'll know you're getting to bed on time. If you can't go to sleep by ten o'clock, then I still want you to text me to let me know why you didn't go to sleep on time, and it better be a good excuse, such as that you had to stay up late to finish homework.”
I scowled. “You sound like a parent.”
“Part of being a Dominant is to ensure that your submissive is taking care of herself. Trust me, this is minor compared to what I could require of you.”
“That's hard to believe.”
“Well, I could dictate what you can eat and make you submit a list of your meals to me to ensure you're eating properly. And I could make you text me in the mornings too, to make sure you're getting up at the proper time every morning and don't miss class. I could also force you to work out, create a routine for you, and punish you if you don't implement it.”
“Alright, alright. I get your point. Geez. Do some Dominants really do that?”
“Yes. Most Dominants do that.”
“Wow. The BDSM lifestyle is kind of stuffy.”
“That's just the way it is.”
I paused for a moment, thinking. “I'm glad you're not like that. I don't think I could handle it if you were.”
“You're new to the lifestyle, so I'm not expecting you to accept everything right away. As we progress though, I will expect more of you.”
“Not that much, I hope.”
“Probably not, but you never know. If I ever do want those things from you, I'll talk to you about it first.”
And I'll say no. There was no point in arguing about it now though. My life was fairly boring, so I didn't think getting to bed at ten o'clock would cause any problems.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
“Yes.” Damien stood and walked over to the chest of drawers to open them and pull out a sheet of paper. “I have a list of vocabulary words and their definitions that I want you to study and memorize. Every weekend, I'm going to test you on them. Some of them you might have seen before.” He handed the paper to me.
This week's words were 24/7, abrasion, aftercare, age play, anal sex, anal plug, anal torture, animal play, arm binders, asphyxiation, and ass licking. Each word had its definition beside it.
“Why are there so many anal words on the list?” I hoped this wasn't leading into his desire for me to give in and have anal with him.
“Because I want you to be educated in all aspects of sex and the BDSM lifestyle, that includes things you don't approve of. The more you know, the better you can articulate when people ask you questions.”
Ah, here was teacher Damien again. I could understand that. If I was going to be a part of the lifestyle, then it was best I knew as much about it as possible.
“Alright,” I sighed.
Damien walked me to the door, an emotionless shell of the man he had been in the bedroom. Hot and cold. That was how he ran. I still found it strange that there wasn't much in between.
When I got out to my car, I took my collar off and stuck it in the glove box. In truth, I hadn't really thought much of it until I caught a glimpse of it in my rear-view mirror when I was getting ready to pull out of his driveway. The leather of it had left a soft red ring of irritation around my neck, but it would go away soon enough. All in all, wearing it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe I'd even grow to like it eventually.
The week was long and boring. Remembering to text Damien before I went to bed every night was easier than I had imagined, mostly because I enjoyed the extra interaction with him, even if his responses were brief. It made me feel like I actually meant something to him, more than just a student—like he cared about having me in his life.
On Thursday, I received a phone call from my father, telling me that he would be coming home for a few days on Sunday. My heart clenched in my chest, and I instantly felt guilty. While I hadn't seen my father in ages, I didn't want to miss my lessons with Damien. He'd probably punish me if I canceled, but I couldn't exactly dismiss my father when I hadn't seen him in so long. He would expect me to stay home and visit. Running off as soon as he returned would just be rude.
In the end, family was more important. I would take whatever punishment Damien came up with in exchange for more time with my dad. After all, my dad had been nice enough to allow me to stay with him while I was going to college. Snubbing him for sex just wouldn't be right.
When I stood in front of Damien's door the following Saturday, there was tension in my stomach. Should I tell him right away? If I did, he'd probably deny me sex. That would be an adequate punishment.
I decided to keep my mouth shut, even though I knew that would displease him even more. As disobedient as it was, I would rather take a harsher punishment than go without a good dicking.
“You're wearing your collar,” was the first thing he said when he opened the door. “Good girl.”
“Yes, Sir. I remembered,” I told him as he led me inside and to the classroom.
“And I'm very impressed with how well you kept up with texting me every night. Did you, at any point, lie to me about the time you went to bed?” he asked, turning around to take a seat in the chair.
“No, Sir.” I shook my head, sitting on the bed.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No, Sir,” I repeated, a bit offended he'd even think that.
“Good. Shall we go over your homework assignment?”
I nodded. Thankfully, college homework had been light that week, so it hadn't been too much of a burden to remember to study my vocabulary words.
“What does abrasion mean?”
“Abrasion is the scraping off of skin, as done with sandpaper or some other hard porous surface.”
“Good.”
“And age play?”
“Age play is when a Dom and a sub act out a scene involving age difference. For instance, the Dom might pretend to be the father, and the sub will pretend to be the daughter.”
“Close. In most age play scenes, no incest is implied. The scene is more about the nurturing aspect of those types of relationships. Since you got that one partially wrong, I would like for you to write the term and definition for me ten times on a sheet of paper and hand it into me next to you see me.”
I fought back a scowl but nodded. This was definitely one of Damien's minor punishments. It was annoying, but nothing I couldn't deal with.
He continued, “What about asphyxiation?”
“Asphyxiation is the blocking of airflow for heightened pleasure. It's often done by choking someone before they orgasm.”
“Good.” He seemed pleased enough, readjusting himself to get comfortable in the chair. “Today we're going to go over submissive positions. Submissive positions are basically poses you will take upon command. There are two varieties of submissive positions, traditional positions and Gorean positions. Since I do not practice the Gorean lifestyle, we will be focusing on traditional positions.
“There are dozens of submissive positions. Not all Dominants use all positions. It's pretty much up to the Dominant what positions he wants his submissive to memorize and use.
“Each position has its own verbal command. Whenever the Dominant says the command, the submissive is expected to take that position. Failure to do so can, and often does, result in punishment.
“Today we're going to go over all the positions I'll require you to learn. Then I'm going to give you a packet that lists them all and describes the positions so you can study them. Between now and the time you get your training collar, I'll probably be fairly lenient on you if you mess up. I know it's going to be a lot to take in, but you've shown promising retention so far, so I'm confident you'll eventually get it.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I replied.
Damien continued, “The first position is Stand. It looks like this.” He stood up, placed his feet shoulder-width apart, and laced his fingers behind his back, keeping his eyes to the floor. I mimicked his actions, knowing that's what he expected of me. When I was in position, he lifted his head and did a quick walk around, making minor adjustments to my posture until I pleased him. “Good. The next position is Teach. When I say it, I want you to sit down with your knees together, and your hands crossed on top of your lap. You're to focus all of your attention on me and listen intently to what I am telling you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded, watching as he took the position, then imitating him accordingly.
We went through the rest of the positions one by one, with him demonstrating and me mimicking. Most of them were standard. Kneel, Lay Down, Face Down, Hands and Knees. Others were a bit invasive, like Display, Inspection, and Examination. There were a few that sounded more like commands you gave a dog than actual positions, like Heel, Fetch, and Follow. And then there were punishment positions, which varied depending on how he planned to punish me. I hoped I would remember them all.
When we had gone through the list, Damien sat back down, looking up at me with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Take off your clothes,” he told me, and I obeyed. “From now on, when I tell you to take off your clothes, I want you to fold them and set them neatly on the chest of drawers. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I gulped, thinking about how I hadn't learned how to fold dress clothes yet. Of course, as soon as I placed them on the chest of drawers, Damien noticed right away.
He scowled at my clumsily folded blouse. “Do you remember what I told you?”
“Yes, Sir. I was supposed to have looked up a video on how to properly fold my clothes.”
“And you didn't do it?” his voice was dark and disapproving.
“No, Sir. I forgot.”
“Corner.”
It was the first punishment position command he gave me, and I followed it to the best of my ability, walking over to the corner to press my nose against it. I put my hands behind my back, crossing my wrists and spreading my legs shoulder-width apart. A sigh left my lips, thinking about how childish I felt. The last time I stood in a corner, I was ten years old and was being punished for talking back to my mother.
“You will hold yourself in that position for ten minutes, after which time you may come back over and present yourself for Examination,” he said.
My cheeks blushed at the thought. Examination was the most invasive of all positions and consisted of several different verbal commands. The thought of laying submissively while Damien gave my body a very thorough look-over made butterflies flutter in my stomach.
I had more time to think about it than necessary. You never realize how miserable it is to stand in a corner for ten minutes until you've actually had to do it as an adult. It made a surprisingly effective punishment. I would definitely take strides to be more obedient, lest I be forced to suffer with silent boredom again.
When ten minutes was up, Damien called me back over to stand in front of him. I assumed the Stand position, keeping my eyes to the floor.
“Do you remember what you're supposed to do now?” he asked.
“Assume the first Examination position.”
“No.”
“I have just punished you. What are you supposed to do whenever I punish you?”
My mind was completely blank. Was this a trick question?
“I'm sorry for upsetting you, Sir.”
“Wrong answer. Corner.”
Grudgingly, I stalked back over to the corner, pressing my nose into it with an audible groan of discontent.
“Less attitude, or I'll double your time,” Damien said without a hint of remorse.
Punishment definitely sucked.
When another ten minutes passed, I was allowed to return in front of Damien. His face was set into what felt like a permanent scowl, and while I looked at his knee in my peripheral vision, my only bratty thought was of how much I'd like to bite it. Maybe I should tell him to go stand in a corner for twenty minutes and see how much he liked it.
“Since you don't remember what you're supposed to do now, I will tell you,” he said.
“Please do, Sir,” I replied, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. Showing anymore attitude could easily earn me another ten minutes in the corner.
“Whenever your Dominant punishes you, you must thank him for the punishment. Then you must recite why you were punished so you don't forget. Rule number eleven.”
“Master would request I lie to him?”
“Back in the corner. We can do this all night, you know.”
For a moment, I thought of screaming at him. “What did I do this time?”
“You called me Master instead of Sir. Calling me Master is a privilege you haven't earned yet. Back in the corner.”
“What if I promise never to do it again?” I looked up at him pleadingly.
“Back in the corner.” He pointed to it. “If I have to tell you again, you'll earn a far worse punishment.”
“Fine,” I nearly spat at him, stomping over to the corner.
“Come back here,” he told me, his voice as calm and cool as ever.
I turned on him, agitated. “Do you want me in the corner or not?”
“Punishment Knees.”
Oh crap. I finally pissed him off, I realized. Now I would get to taste what one of his real punishments felt like.
While I was still upset, curiosity made me assume the position. I knelt in front of him, naked on the carpet, with my head down and my hands near my face. My ass was up in the air like a beacon, just asking for a nice delicious spanking. Oh, please be a spanking. Please, I silently begged, my anger melting away into perverted thoughts.
As if Damien was reading my mind, he said, “I bet you're hoping I'll spank you.” When I didn't respond, he asked, “Well, are you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I admitted, feeling my body heating up.
“Not all spankings are pleasurable.” The darkness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn't imagine a spanking not being pleasurable. If he thought that he could turn a spanking into a punishment, the joke was on him.
“I want you to thank me after every strike, do you understand?” he said.
“Yes, Sir.” My clit tingled from the order.
Perhaps I would disobey more often. What he was teaching me was the opposite of what he had hoped. If spankings were to be my punishment, then I would be bad all the time. A lecherous grin crossed my lips as I heard him move behind me, and it took everything in me not to wiggle my butt.
My smile melted when his hand came down with the full weight of his body. Searing agony raged through my backside, pushing past the point of pleasure and tumbling into unexpected pain. I choked on my own breath, gasping in disbelief at the force of the blow.
“Do you have something to say to me?” Damien asked.
“Thank you, Sir,” I was barely able to stutter out before another crack of torment landed across my backside. The skin already felt swollen and burning, like the sting of a thousand angry fire ants. “Thank you, Sir,” I echoed the words with tears in my eyes. By the third slap, I didn't think my body could take anymore. My safety word was on my lips, threatening to spill out, but instead, I said, “Thank you, Sir.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling, waiting for the next blow. Part of me didn't think I could handle it, but I knew I had to. When Damien's hand touched my ass again, it wasn't to spank me, but to rub against the welt. My pulse moved to my ass, beating against his hand. It felt like I might melt his skin right off from the heat.
“Why were you punished?” he asked, running his fingers delicately over the welts.
“Because I showed you attitude, Sir,” I said, suppressing the urge to whimper and cry.
“That hurt me more than it hurt you, and I never want to have to do it again. Next time, just stand in the damn corner.” He climbed to his feet and sat back in the chair. I hadn't even realized he had been kneeling beside me the whole time. “Examination,” he ordered, and I found myself crawling onto the bed and assuming the position with my legs spread wide and my hands above my head.
Even the feel of the comforter against my swollen backside sent pain shooting through me. Never again would I purposely piss off Damien Reed.
Once I was in position, Damien came to stand over me, assessing me with emotionless eyes. He bent slightly to grab my breasts and lift them up, examining underneath them. The whole thing made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, but I laid there anyway, suppressing my sniffles.
Even though I knew I deserved the punishment, it still upset me. My mind was a tangle of negative emotions. If he loved me then how could he hurt me like that? It's not that he doesn't love me. He's just trying to discipline me. He told me what would happen if I continued to disobey. I should have listened. Stupid, stupid Chey. Now he's mad at me. I don't want him to be mad at me. I was a good girl. I took my punishment and didn't complain.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, watching as tears cascaded down my face.
“Because you hurt me,” I whimpered.
“I gave you more than enough chances to listen.”
“I know. I just didn't expect . . .”
“That a spanking could hurt?” he paused. “Despite what you probably think, I didn't enjoy doing that anymore than you enjoyed receiving it. I don't get off to the thought of hurting you. In fact, I use physical force as the last effective measure of punishment. Obviously, you were going to continue to give me attitude if I kept sending you to the corner. It wasn't working, so I needed to modify my approach. Now that you know what it feels like for me to have to modify my approach, you'll be more apt to listen to me next time I issue you a punishment. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I squeaked.
“Don't just tell me 'Yes, Sir' blindly. I want to know you actually understand my reasoning. So I'm going to ask you again, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, more clearly this time.
“Good. Now dry your eyes and assume the Examination Front position.”
After wiping my eyes, I rolled over onto my stomach, keeping everything else about the position the same. My body tensed as Damien's hand rubbed over my ass again. Even though it had been several minutes since the intense spanking, I could still feel pain through my backside. It would probably bruise.
“Examination Cunt,” he told me, and I rolled back around, bringing my knees up to my chest and spreading them slightly to expose my feminine folds to him.
Damien crawled up onto the bed, and for a moment, I thought he meant to fuck me. Instead, he spread my pussy lips. For the first time ever, I wasn't sopping wet for him. In fact, my mind was too emotionally wrecked to be thinking much about sex. All I could think about, aside from the spanking, was the discomfort from being so vulnerable. Damien was looking inside of me, quite literally examining me in a very non-sexual way, kind of like how a gynecologist does.
It wasn't until he pressed two fingers inside of me that my body finally responded, relaxing into its more wanton state. Need pulsed through my clit, and I grew angry at myself for desiring him so much after what he had just done. I should be pissed off at him, not craving him between my legs. Stupid body.
The moment didn't last. Soon, Damien was withdrawing and telling me to assume the final position, which was Examination Anal. This position was reminiscent of the Punishment Knees position. The only difference was I had to spread my ass cheeks for him with my hands. My face flushed pink as I did this. It was the most embarrassing and degrading position of all, letting him look at my asshole. I thought about contesting it, as one of my hard limits, but what grounds did I have to say that under. He wasn't hurting me. Hell, he wasn't even touching me. I was just uncomfortable.
Throughout the examination process, I found myself holding in my breath and emotions. Tonight was a night I would never forget—the night I truly felt like we had taken our relationship to a different level—a very dark level I wasn't sure I liked. Being vulnerable was one thing, but this felt like something else entirely—a complete mind fuck.
When the examination was over, Damien gave me the Lay Down command. As quickly as possible, I laid on my back, trying to remember the placement for my arms. I wavered for a moment in uncertainty, but Damien had crawled off the bed to return to the chest of drawers, and by the time he turned around, I had remembered and corrected myself. He returned to me with two small objects, holding them up in his hands. One looked like a blue eye shadow compact. The other was a small tube, probably containing some kind of lube.
“Right hand or left hand?” he asked.
I gave him a quizzical look, worried it was a trick. “What are they?”
“That's not what I asked you. Right hand or left hand?”
Fearing further punishment, I decided to shut up and choose. The blue compact was interesting looking, but the tube was definitely more familiar.
“Left hand,” I said finally, indicating the tube.
Damien put the compact back in the chest of drawers before he returned to me. “Assume the Examination Cunt position,” he commanded.
With a nervous sigh, I brought my knees back up to my chest, parting my legs slightly. I watched Damien as he twisted the cap off the tube and squeezed a dab of clear gel onto his finger. Then he rubbed the gel directly on my clit.
It didn't feel like anything special at first. He gave my nub a good dousing, igniting my pleasure core with the touch of his finger. Then he put some more gel on his finger and rubbed my pussy lips with it. By the time he was done, I began feeling the effects of the lube on my pleasure button. It was heating up quickly, causing a tingling sensation. When Damien put the cap back on the tube and leaned between my legs to blow on my folds, I gasped from the strange sensation that ran through me. Within seconds, my clit was throbbing, my labia fully engorged with seething desire.
“What was that?” I asked.
“It's called WOW gel.” He grinned.
Wow was right. It felt amazing, both hot and cold at the same time, tingling and pleasurable. I could feel my nerve endings coming to life and my pussy beginning to moisten.
“It's clitoral arousing gel,” he explained. “How does it feel?”
“Good. I like it.”
“Good. Shall I take things up a notch?”
I was scared what that meant, but I nodded anyway.
Damien licked two of his fingers and pressed them into my exposed cunt. He slid them inside gently at first, scissoring and exploring. It felt exquisite coupled with the throbbing of my clit. When his fingers were fully inside, he arched them and began thrusting slowly. I groaned shamelessly, feeling like I might drool on myself from pleasure. Already, his fingers were squelching inside of me, proof of my arousal.
He pulled out, opened the tube again, and gave my clit another rubdown with the gel. This time, he pressed his index finger hard over my nub. Fire shot through me, consuming me with lust and desire. It felt like my pussy was absolutely drooling.
“Damien, I'm going to,” I warned.
He buried his face between my legs, flicking his tongue across my clit. If he had wanted me to stop, this wasn't a good way to show it. Almost the second he sucked my sensitive bits up into his mouth, I came, contracting and squirming and panting. Damien showed no signs of letting up, devouring my cunt until no gel or wetness remained. When he did finally come up for air, all I could think about was how much I wanted his cock inside of me.
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
“I want to, but you've been bad,” he said.
“You taught me a lesson. I won't be bad again.”
For a moment, I was hopeful, but then he crawled off of the bed and sat back down in the chair, filling me with disappointment. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to move or not, so I just laid there, staring at him, praying he would return.
“I like you like that,” he told me, though his expression was blank.
“I want you inside of me. I think I might stay like this until you come stick it in me.”
“You'll be staying like that all night then.” He smirked.
“If it's what you want.”
“You become so compliant when you want to be fucked.”
“I can't help it. I want to be fucked.” I grinned back at him.
“I'm glad you're not upset anymore.”
Had I ever been upset? It seemed like a distant dream now. The welts on my ass had finally cooled. Only the hand impression lingered behind.
“You're not allowed to pleasure yourself anymore,” he said, turning my grin into a frown. “And you can relax now.”
I lowered my legs to the bed and rolled over onto my side, looking at him. “Why not? What did I do to earn punishment this time?”
“It's not a punishment. I want all of your orgasms to belong to me. Every time you come, I want it to be because I allowed it. That would give me great pleasure.”
My clit throbbed from his words, but my brain knew my body shouldn't be happy about it. Masturbating was an integral part of my life. I did it at least once a day. The thought of being denied made me discontent.
“I don't like that rule,” I told him.
“Why not?”
“Do you have any idea how much I masturbate?”
“I do. You put it on the questionnaire, remember?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that,” I huffed. “Well, if you're going to do that to me, then I need to see you more.”
“Neither one of our schedules will allow that.”
“Then we need to compromise.”
“Fine. I won't masturbate either.”
It wasn't the kind of compromise I had expected, but the thought was very arousing. I tried to imagine a pent-up sexually frustrated Damien Reed. He would probably be absolutely ravaging in the sack. My thighs wanted to rub together from the thought.
“Wouldn't that be difficult for you too?” I asked.
“It's all about self-control, Cheyenne. I have a lot of it. You, on the other hand, don't.”
How rude? I sat up and crossed my arms over my chest.
“If you're not going to fuck me, then I'd like to get dressed,” I told him grumpily.
“Fine.”
As I began to put on my clothes, he continued, “I won't be able to see you tomorrow. I have a teachers dinner to attend.”
While I knew I should have been upset, I honestly felt relieved. At least now I wouldn't have to feel bad about not being able to see him because of my father coming home. Still, shouldn't this be even more reason for us to have sex.
“Are you sure you don't want to fuck?” I asked, feeling a bit sleazy for it.
He laughed, “You're insatiable. But no. You'll survive for a week.”
Would I? I wasn't quite sure. To be honest, I hadn't gone without masturbating for more than a night or two since I discovered the pleasures of my own body. The thought of going a whole week was almost incomprehensible. I would probably rape Damien the next time we were together. A silly mental image played in my head of him opening the door and me ripping off his pants and jumping on his dick right in the doorway. It was funny to think about now, but who knew how accurate it could be by the end of the week.
“I don't like this,” I grumbled.
“It's not your job to like it. It's your job to accept it.”
“Doesn't being a submissive mean some things are up for debate?” I eyed him wearily. “I could have sworn you said that at some point.”
“Some things are. Not everything. If you don't like it, you can always decide not to move on to training when your trial is over.”
I groaned. Why did he have to be such a hard-head?
“Fine,” I relented.
Damien stood to dig through the chest of drawers again. “Before you go, I need to give you your packet on the submissive positions. There's also another list of keywords in here. Don't forget to bring me your homework, the definition for age play written down on a piece of paper in your own handwriting ten times.”
I thought about giving him attitude, but refrained. The corner did not look appealing, and I doubted my ass could handle another round of brute force smacks. Instead, I took the paperwork from him and simply said, “Yes, Sir,” before following him to the door.
In the car, I took off my collar and reflected on everything that had happened. It had been an odd night, and things were definitely getting a lot more intense. While I loved the kink play, I was still having a hard time adapting to the idea of being a submissive. There was so much to remember, and Damien was strict in Dom mode. A large part of me wished we could go back to the way things were, but I feared there was no going back now. I could only look forward and hope I could conform to the harsh standards—to be everything Damien wanted and needed.