Relief warred with disappointment, followed by a flutter of apprehension as she realized he was already planning future scenes for them. That was... good? Scary? Exciting? Nerve-wracking? ... All of the above?

“Now, hard limits.”

Ellie’s insides twisted.

3

Michael didn’t think he’d ever scened with a submissive so reluctant to just talk. Even the impatient ones would concede, although they might try to get it over with quickly. In contrast, Ellie’s expression turned stubborn, and he knew he wasn’t going to get all the answers he wanted today.

That was fine. He could be patient.

He also wasn’t going to let her get away with completely avoiding answering his questions.

“Hair-pulling seems the most problematic for me,” he said, keeping his tone light and conversational. “I like to touch a woman’s hair, run my fingers through it.” He let his gaze slide to her raven-locks, making it clear he’d like to play with her hair, and was pleased when her cheeks flushed pink. “Can you clarify your limits with your hair?”

The question set her off balance, as it was meant to. She obviously hadn’t ever been challenged on any of her limits. Michael wasn’t going to push her past them, but he also wasn’t going to let her remain comfortably within them without at least examining their boundaries.

Her left hand rose, seeking out a lock of hair to wind about her fingers as she thought for a moment.

“Running your fingers through it is fine,” she said, almost shyly. “Even a little pulling that’s not too hard, just... just not wrapping it around your hand or um... Yeah. Just not wrapping it around your hand.”

Michael rewarded her with an approving smile. “Thank you. I have to admit, I would have been disappointed if I’d been forbidden from playing with your hair at all.” The smile she gave him in return was still shy, but gaining in some confidence. “You left breath play blank on your form, it’s not a limit, but you didn’t indicate an interest in it either. Would you be open to trying some breath play?”

Her teeth bit down into her lower lip, dragging across the surface as she considered. Michael didn’t miss the way her legs pressed together under the desk. Something about it appealed to her, but she was even more unsure about it than the hair pulling. Still, he wanted an answer, so he waited patiently for her to think through it.

“I... yes. I’d want to use ‘yellow’ as a slowdown word and... only with you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, touched - again - by the trust she was showing in him.