I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Hi.” I smile nervously at him, and I know my eyes are wide and that I’m deathly pale.
“What are you doing?” he says softly, but there’s an undercurrent in his tone.
Oh shit. Is he mad? I flush. “Er… I was bored and curious,” I mutter, embarrassed to be found out. He said he’d be two hours.
“That’s a very dangerous combination.” He runs his long index finger across his lower lip in quiet contemplation, not taking his eyes off me. I swallow and my mouth is dry.
Slowly, he enters the room and closes the door quietly behind him, his eyes liquid gray fire.
“So, what exactly are you curious about, Miss Steele? Perhaps I could enlighten you.”
“The door was open… I-” I gaze at Christian as I hold my breath and blink, uncertain as ever of his reaction or what I should say. His eyes are dark. I think he’s amused, but it’s difficult to tell. He places his elbows on the museum chest and rests his chin on his clasped hands.
“I was in here earlier today wondering what to do with it all. I must have forgotten to lock it.” He scowls momentarily as if leaving the door unlocked is a terrible lapse in judgment. I frown-it’s not like him to be forgetful.
“Oh?”
“But now here you are, curious as ever.” His voice is soft, puzzled.
“You’re not mad?” I whisper, using my remaining breath.
He cocks his head to one side, and his lips twitch in amusement.
“Why would I be mad?”
“I feel like I’m trespassing… and you’re always mad at me.” My voice is quiet, though I’m relieved. Christian’s brow creases once more.
“Yes, you’re trespassing, but I’m not mad. I hope that one day you’ll live with me here, and all this”-he gestures vaguely round the room with one hand-“will be yours, too.”
My playroom… eh? I gape at him-that’s a lot to take in.
“That’s why I was in here today. Trying to decide what to do.” He taps his lips with his index finger. “Am I angry with you all the time? I wasn’t this morning.”
Oh, that’s true. I smile at the memory of Christian when we woke, and it distracts me from the thought of what will become of the playroom. He was such fun Fifty this morning.
“You were playful. I like playful Christian.”
“Do you now?” He arches an eyebrow, and his beautiful mouth curves up in a smile, a shy smile. Wow!
“What’s this?” I hold up the silver bullet thing.
“Always hungry for information, Miss Steele. That’s a butt plug,” he says gently.
“Oh…”
“Bought for you.”
He nods slowly, his face now serious and wary.
I frown. “You buy new, er… toys… for each submissive?”
“Some things. Yes.”
“Butt plugs?”
“Yes.”
Okay… I swallow. Butt plug. It’s solid metal-surely that’s uncomfortable? I remember our discussion about sex toys and hard limits after I graduated. I think at the time I said I would try. Now, actually seeing one, I don’t know if it’s something I want to do. I examine it once more and place it back in the drawer.
“And this?” I take out a long, black rubbery object, made of gradually diminishing spherical bubbles joined together, the first one large and the last much smaller. Eight bubbles in total.
“Anal beads,” says Christian, watching me carefully.
“They have quite an effect if you pull them out mid-orgasm,” he adds matter-of-factly.
“This is for me?” I whisper.
“For you.” He nods slowly.
“This is the butt drawer?”
He smirks. “If you like.”
I close it quickly, flushing like a stoplight.
“Don’t you like the butt drawer?” he asks innocently, amused. I gaze at him and shrug, trying to brazen out my shock.
“It’s not top of my Christmas card list,” I mutter nonchalantly. Tentatively, I open the second drawer.He grins.
“Next drawer down holds a selection of vibrators.”
I shut the drawer quickly.
“And the next?” I whisper, ashen once more, but this time with embarrassment.
“That’s more interesting.”
“Genital clamp,” Christian says. He stands up and moves casually around so that he’s beside me. I put it back immediately and choose something more delicate-two small clips on a chain.
“Some of these are for pain, but most are for pleasure,” he murmurs.
“What’s this?”
“Nipple clamps-that’s for both.”
“Both? Nipples?”
Christian smirks at me. “Well, there are two clamps, baby. Yes, both nipples, but that’s not what I meant. These are for both pleasure and pain.”
Oh. He takes it from me.
“Hold out your little finger.”
I do as he asks, and he clamps one clip to the tip of my finger. It’s not too harsh.
“The sensation is very intense, but it’s when taking them off that they are at their most painful andpleasurable.” I remove the clip. Hmm, that might be nice. I squirm at the thought.
“I like the look of these,” I murmur and Christian smiles.
“Do you now, Miss Steele? I think I can tell.”
I nod shyly, biting my lip. He reaches up and tugs on my chin so I release my bottom lip.
“You know what that does to me,” he murmurs.
I put the clips back in the drawer, and Christian leans forward and pulls out two more.
“These are adjustable.” He holds them up for me to inspect.
“Adjustable?”
“You can wear them very tight… or not. Depending on your mood.”
How does he make that sound so erotic? I swallow, and to divert his attention, pull out a device that looks like a spiky pastry cutter.
“This?” I frown. No baking in the playroom, surely.
“That’s a Wartenberg pinwheel.”
“For?”
He reaches over and takes it from me. “Give me your hand. Palm up.”
I offer him my left hand and he takes it gently, skating his thumb over my knuckles. A shiver runs through me. His skin against mine, it never fails to thrill me. He runs the wheel over my palm.
“Ah!” The prongs bite into my skin-there’s more than just pain. In fact, it tickles slightly.
“Imagine that over your breasts,” Christian murmurs lasciviously.
