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“Kinky fuckery?” she squeaks in disbelief.

“Kinky fuckery.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” She looks anxiously at Taylor again.

“Well, I did. Answer me.”

“I like your kinky fuckery,” she whispers.

Oh, baby, so do I.

I’m relieved. Step one…okay. Keep cool, Grey.

“That’s what I thought. So what don’t you like?”

She’s silent for a moment, and I know she’s scrutinizing me in the light and shadows of the intermittent street lamps. “The threat of cruel and unusual punishment,” she says.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you have all those—” She stops, glancing at Taylor once more, and her voice lowers. “Things in your playroom, the canes, and whips, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don’t want you to use them on me.”

This, I have worked out for myself.

“Okay, so no whips or canes. Or belts, for that matter,” I add, unable to keep the irony out of my voice.

“Are you attempting to redefine the hard limits?”

“Not as such. I’m just trying to understand you—get a clearer picture of what you do and don’t like.”

“Fundamentally, Christian, it’s your joy in inflicting pain that’s difficult for me to handle. And the idea that you’ll do it because I have crossed some arbitrary line.”

there, or I will blow this deal. I ignore her first comment and concentrate on her second point. “But it’s not arbitrary—the rules are written down.”

“I don’t want a set of rules.”

“None at all?”

I protect myself from that? And suppose she does something stupid that puts herself at risk?

“No rules,” she states, shaking her head for emphasis.

Okay, million-dollar question.

“But you don’t mind if I spank you?”

“Spank me with what?”

“This.” I hold up my hand.

She shifts in her seat, and a silent, sweet joy unfurls deep in

“No, not really.

My cock stirs at the thought. Damn.

“More than fun,” she

“So you can deal with some pain.” I can’t keep the

“Yes, I suppose.” She shrugs.

Okay. So we may be able to structure a relationship around this.

Deep breath,

I trust you to be honest and to communicate with me—we could move on and do some of the things that I like to do.”

That’s it.

Fuck. My heart rate escalates; blood thrums through my body, pounding past my eardrums as I wait for her reaction. My well-being hangs in the balance. And she says…nothing! She

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