“BDSM is pretty misunderstood,” Jackson explained, breaking through my thoughts.
I focused my attention on him, knowing what he had to say was important.
He continued, “A lot of people think it’s all about a dom’s pleasure, but that’s far from the case. A sub gets pleasure from their domination. At the same time, the sub determines their own limits and controls the scene, not the dom. A sub can tap out using a safe word at any time or for any reason at all.”
Caleb ran his fingers along my arm. “It’s the job of the dom to listen to their sub, to be alert and attentive. The dom will plan a scene that matches the needs and limits of everyone involved. Got it?”
I nodded. “I did some reading,” I admitted.
“That’s good,” Jackson said. “That’s exactly what we like to hear. No one should go into a scene uninformed.”
We talked about our sexual limits and things we didn’t like, and they asked me what I’d like to use as my safe word.
“Magenta,” I said. It was my favorite color and something I wouldn’t forget.
Jackson grinned. “I like that. Magenta.”
We talked for a few more minutes about what would happen or could happen. I could tell they were both trying to keep me at ease. Though I’d never done anything like this before, I didn’t feel anxious, just nervous in the way I often was before I did something for the first time.
“Are you ready?” Jackson asked. His breath was hot on my neck and sent goosebumps down my arms.
“Good,” Caleb said. “Then stand up and take off your dress.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have yelled at or ignored a man telling me what to do, but not then. At that moment, excitement shot up my spine and I stood, turning around to face them.
I grabbed the invisible zipper on the side of my dress and pulled it down, sliding the dress down my body. When it hit the ground, I stepped out of it, left in only my matching black lace lingerie.
Like hawks, Caleb and Jackson watched every movement I made. Their eyes ran up and down my body, lingering on my breasts and hips. I didn’t know if I’d like two men looking at me at once, but their dual scrutiny absolutely thrilled me.
After a moment, Jackson cleared his throat. “Go kneel on the mat.”
The black mat covered a large section of the floor. I walked over to it and knelt in the middle, facing them. They simultaneously stood and walked over to me, my anticipation growing with each step they took.
“This is the scene,” Jackson said. He began to slowly circle around me. “Erin, you’re my lawyer and you somehow managed to fumble every single indictment against me. As the judge, Caleb is disgusted by what a poor lawyer you are, and he’s going to punish you. Understand?”
“Say it,” Caleb said. His voice was deep, determined.
“Yes, I understand,” I replied breathlessly.
“Good,” Jackson said, finally coming to a stop. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, Judge Tredway? What do you think?”
I watched Caleb’s face transform as he got into the scene, his face becoming dark. “Erin, please,” he began, sighing in frustration, “I just had to witness you fail your client during the trail over and over. It was the worst miscarriage of justice I’ve seen in my entire career.”
He walked closer, stopping when he was right in front of me, and lightly touched my cheek with his fingertips. “Can you justify your poor performance?”
I gulped and shook my head. “No, I have no defense,” I murmured.
“Disappointing,” Caleb replied.
All of a sudden, the hand that had just been resting on my cheek swung back and slapped me. I gasped in shock. It didn’t really hurt, but the suddenness of his action surprised me. But once I got past the initial shock, I found that I liked it. I liked kneeling before Caleb as he berated me and punished me for my misdeeds.
Playing along, I cried, “I’m sorry!”
“Hm,” Caleb said, his voice full of disbelief. “You overlooked evidence crucial to your client’s defense. There were witnesses you forgot to interview. Did you just not care about your client’s fate or are you just shitty lawyer?”
I found myself really getting my role, into my need to make amends to the judge and my client. “I don’t know!” I yelled. “I don’t know!”
Caleb’s quick hand smacked my other cheek. It hurt slightly more than the other side, but felt more exciting than painful.
“Pathetic,” Caleb muttered.
He leaned down, his face close to mine, and grabbed my chin with his hand. “I can’t even tell if you’re sorry or not.” His breath felt hot and jagged against my face.
I didn’t reply.
“Nothing to say?” he asked. When I kept silent, he hauled me to my feet and slung me over his shoulder. I watched as he sat back down on the couch and manhandled me onto his lap. I sat facing him, one leg slung over each side of his lap in a straddle. I felt just how hard he was and moaned, trying to roll my hips over his to feel him pressing into me.