Chapter 8 Performance

The command hit her with brutal finality. She felt a sudden, unexpected wave of self-consciousness. Her body, the source of so much quiet frustration, felt exposed even in her clothes.

She thought of her curves and full hips, the D-sized bust that felt too big for her torso, the freckles scattered across her abdomen, all the imperfections magnified under the stark lights of this torture chamber.

(A fleet of women have been here, she reminded herself fiercely, clinging to the only anchor she had. My body will not register in his mind. He won't even see me.)

Armed with that thought and the conviction that she would never be here again, she reached for the hem of her Winnie the Pooh pajama top. She pulled it over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

Standing half-naked in the freezing air of the dungeon, the sudden cool draft made her nipples harden instantly. She watched Noah.

His eyes swept up her body, a slow, predatory appraisal that lingered for a devastating second on her chest, then her hips. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the change in her expression, the quickening of her breath.

Then he spoke, his voice retaining that cold, detached tone. "Have you ever done this before?"

Ava considered lying, saying she was a seasoned veteran, but decided against it. She didn't need to confess her inexperience with a penis, but she needed him to understand her psychological starting point.

"No," she admitted, her voice low. "Never. I've never been into this."

Noah nodded again, his eyes locking onto hers, studying her like a predator examining a newly captured, complex prey. He didn't ask why she was here or why she wanted him to fuck her in the first place. He only absorbed the data point.

"Will you be fine with anything?" he asked, the question delivered with the weight of a legal waiver.

Ava didn't understand why he was asking her to define her boundaries when he clearly intended to operate outside of them. But she understood the challenge.

"Yes," she replied, letting the word sink in. "I'll be fine with anything."

"Take off your pants then."

She unfastened the drawstring of her matching Winnie the Pooh pajama bottoms. As they dropped to the floor, she stood fully naked in the intimidating room, illuminated by the harsh black and red lights.

"Go to the table," Noah commanded, his voice utterly lacking inflection.

Swallowing hard, Ava walked the few steps to the black leather table. The leather felt cold and slick against her thighs as she climbed up.

"Lie down. Face up."

She obeyed instantly, stretching out on the cool, firm surface. The black leather was an immense contrast to her warm, tan skin. She felt utterly exposed and vulnerable.

Noah moved to a shadowy corner of the room, returning with something dark and soft. He approached the table and stood over her.

"Lift your head."

When she did, he proffered a black cloth piece and wrapped it gently, but firmly, around her eyes, blindfolding her.

Ava's breath immediately became shallow, her heart rate skyrocketing. The loss of sight was a shocking, total surrender. It was as if all her other senses, already heightened by fear and excitement, instantly became violently active.

She heard louder than before, the faint hum of the overhead lights now a buzzing drone. She smelled better than before, inhaling the sharp, clean musk of Noah's body and the deep, rich smell of leather. And her skin was instantly hypersensitive. She could feel the cool air tracing the freckles on her abdomen and the faint, stable breathing that fanned across her cheek as Noah stood over her.

Then his voice, rough and chilling, cut through the darkness.

"There are no safe words in this room. Once I start, I don't stop until I'm satisfied with your performance. The only way to get me to stop is if I'm pleased with your performance. Your crying will not get to me, your curses will not, and your rage will not. This is your last chance. Are you in or out?"