Chapter 36

“Do you want to use your safe word, now?”

Valerie blinked at Dana, eyes wide in surprise. As her sense of shock and surprise faded, some pieces started to fall into place for her. Dana had spoken of fear, and Valerie realized the woman thought that fear was all that kept her there. The shift in perspective was dizzying.

“Is that why—” she started, tilting her head to the side and trying to find the right words. “You thought I’d bolt as soon as you opened the gate?”

“I think you should,” Dana replied, a wry twist of her mouth failing to entirely displace the sadness on her face.

Valerie felt suddenly sad for Dana, for how the woman must see herself, see their situation. It was true that the prospect of leaving this new life was made all the more terrifying by the certainty that there was nothing on the other side of it, but that was not a new fear for her.

“Yeah, well..” Valerie replied, with a lopsided shrug.

She had chosen transition, years ago, and she had quickly learned that it was not a life of unbridled happiness. There was pain, sometimes, and the judgment of those she might have thought nearest to her. There was danger, in a world increasingly indifferent — hostile, even — to her existence. In transitioning, she had chosen a harder life, but one that held hope for true happiness.

“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

Valerie knew she could give up at any time, and pick back up the role of Good Son that her parents wanted for her— that they had tried to drag her back to. She knew, just as much, that the role was a promise of oblivion; a choice she would not survive. Death before detransition was not, for her, a quippy slogan: it was a concrete certainty. The only way she would give up even this narrow window of opportunity for true joy was if she died, first; in spirit if not in body. If she was to die, then so be it, but she would force the world to take her life from her, and not willingly hand it over without a fight.

She could likewise walk away from Dana. Even before the new information and the new promises, the choice was available to her. A place to stay and her debts cleared meant a softer oblivion, but there was still no life for her to return to. The thought of simply starting all over again was too unbearable to consider.

“I’ve never been very good at doing what I should.”

Her life with Dana was the same bargain, then; exquisite highs of joy and pleasure that she had barely been able to fantasize about, before; much less hope for. If the cost of that was bearing the ire of Lucca’s whip or sating Dana’s boredom at the business end of a cane, so be it. Perhaps, at the end of a year, she would indeed walk away with wealth enough to start a new life on her own terms. She could not even imagine what it would be like to have that sort of freedom.

Valerie was not without her misgivings. That first meeting, Dana had shown herself willing to cross a boundary that could not be un-crossed. She had violated every corner of Valerie’s life, and ultimately, even her physical self. The woman had chosen not to follow through, but the genuine fear and confusion of that first meeting was never far from Valerie’s mind, and an anxious voice whispered constant worry that Dana might not honor the safe word, in the end, if it came to it.

That dissonance still lived in Valerie’s head; and she knew one day she would have to reconcile it, one way or another. At that moment, she seemed no closer to an answer. She was afraid that Dana would not ultimately let her leave; and she held on to that fear like a cherished object. That fear, she told herself, was her ward against Dana’s deepest seductions; it was a tether to some sort of sane, reasonable reality.

What she did know was that, that morning, the prospect of walking away debt-free and with time to get back on her feet was not as appealing as the prospect of staying with Dana. Her heart stilled raced with excitement as she imagined a deeper descent into submission under Dana’s power. She was surprised to discover excitement, too, to explore her own limits with Lucca.

She slipped off the armchair, her knees landing softly on the rich wool rug. Dana drew back in surprise at the movement. Valerie assumed the first position that Dana had taught her; she had been practicing, since that first caning all those weeks ago. Her hands could just barely grasp each opposite elbow, behind her. Her shoulders ached from the strain, and she arched her back, pushing her small chest out. She suppressed a wince at the way this pulled on her new piercings.

Do you want to use your safe word? Dana had asked.

“No,” Valerie answered, softly, but with certainty.

Dana recovered her poise, shedding the sense of sadness off of her like a swan scattering water from outspread wings. She leaned forward, her dark eyes fixed on Valerie’s.

“Good girl,” she whispered, and Valerie shivered, her breath catching as her heart hammered in her chest.

Dana rested one slender hand against Valerie’s jaw, and at risk of breaking first position protocol, Valerie pressed into it, her eyes glistening. Her mistress’s hand was soft, silken, and warm. Even as she reminded herself of her treasured fear, the hand felt like care and safety against her skin. Dana leaned down farther and pressed her lips against Valerie’s in a long, slow, and gentle kiss.

Dana slipped her other hand around Valerie’s neck, and with gentle certainty, pulled the girl closer to her. Valerie rested her cheek against Dana’s thigh, eyes closed, breathing in her scent; Dana pressed her face and lips into Valerie’s tousled hair. The closeness was soft, comforting tenderness, and Valerie reminded herself not to mistake it for love.

Dana opened her mouth as if to speak, but seemed to decide against it. She pressed her lips closed again in a small smile as she raked her fingers gently through Valerie’s hair, tangling her hand in the colorful locks and forcing — gently, but inexporably — her head back so that their eyes met.

“Come along, little toy,” Dana said, finally, her voice dark with mischief. “I think I would like to play with you.”

Dana led Valerie toward the bedroom, with a finger hooked through the ring dangling from the girl’s collar.

Valerie never voiced an opinion on what Dana chose for her or about what sort of sex or play they would engage in, except for the rare occasion when she was asked directly. This submission was central to their relationship: Valerie was an object, used by Dana when she wished, however she wished. But in that moment, Valerie wished earnestly that she could ask for gentleness from her mistress— for comfort, and rest. She did not.

The bedroom lights were still low and dim, and simulated rain still pattered against a non-existent roof. Dana dismissed the rain and replaced it with something electronic, all rhythmic bass and synthesizers, ambient and down-tempo. She walked Valerie over to the bed.

“Give me a moment,” Dana said softly, gesturing for Valerie to sit.

Valerie obeyed, and seated herself on the edge of the bed. She watched — not for the first time, but still in awe — as Dana shed her street clothes. She was lean, but soft; she did not exercise intensely, but she maintained her physique at a balance of toned and softly feminine.

Valerie had never asked how much work Dana had done as part of her own transition; she was sure the answer was not none, but she could not differentiate what was exercise, a good diet, and lucky genetics from what was skilled surgery.

Valerie found Dana breathtaking, and every time she saw the woman naked she was filled with attraction and envy in equal measure; and despite that she was hesitant about the play Dana had in mind, Valerie still felt her pulse quicken as the woman disrobed. She still struggled to believe, sometimes, that a woman as beautiful as Dana would have any interest in her.

She watched silently as Dana lit a few tapered candles at the side of the bed, and a stick of incense. The spicy, woody aroma reached her moments later. She watched the smoke writhe and twist through the air.

She wished, in that moment, that her relationship with Dana was different; she was aroused, yes — aching with need — but her body also ached literally, and she was emotionally exhausted. As deeply erotic as she found her overall living situation, in that moment, she simply wanted to be held.

She fantasized that Dana would walk over to the bed, sit beside her, and kiss her softly; that they would enjoy each others’ bodies with care and kind attention; that they would nestle together and rest.

Valerie bit back a sigh as Dana walked back over to the bed carrying several neatly bundled lengths of black rope.