The bond between them became a dance. Draw away, pull together, dip her gracefully in his arms, let her up, draw apart... Even if her hand left his in their dance, it was never for long.
At first she was nervous to call him for some steadying dominance, nervous to come to his arms. The second time, her voice shook like the first phone call, but her request was more direct. "Master, may I come see you?"
"Of course you can." No, he wouldn't dream of denying her, not when every time made her fall a little farther to the dark waters of his mastery.
That time, when she got there, he took up the riding crop. "Kneel in my floor. We're just going to go over some basic commands together, Pet."
Jezebel was so skittish at first, warily meeting his gaze while her eyes darted to the sides to look at the toys she had already seen.
When he snapped the crop in a stern little flick against her breasts, her eyes stopped that wandering. It came quicker for her now, he noticed, after tasting his discipline a few times.
Asher doubted that she was even aware of some of those small changes, but oh, he couldn't help but notice every single one.
"Tits out and up," Asher said softly. "Straighten your back and display them for me."
Jezebel had on these cute little white shorts with a gray form fitting shirt, and she lifted to his command, arching for him.
"Spread your legs wider, always wide. When you submit, even in clothes, you should always display yourself openly and be available."
Jezebel's eyelids fluttered, and her lips parted with a soft little desirous exhale.
"Yes, Master." God, that breathy voice... Jezebel may have only lightly played before him, but she was born to be slave.
One command, a few flicks of the crop, and all fear and conflict left her features. Jezebel spread herself, then spread herself wider when he flicked her thighs again in militant little crop licks.
"Good girl." Jezebel inhaled, and the look of bliss on her face, just to hear those words, told him worlds. It was in moments like these where he could see every ounce of potential in her, and there was so much to see.
It was becoming his life's work to show her that fact. Asher circled her, and she turned her head to follow his movements so that he smiled and tapped her face with the crop.
"That's it. Keep your eyes on your Master. Some might prefer them on the floor in submission as a fair warning. Different tops have different preferences, but I prefer your attention on me."
Asher stroked the crop across her lips, and she licked it almost automatically. "Can you think why that might be, Pet?"
Her gaze was sweetly direct, and she somehow still managed to blush a little. "Because you're Master."
Asher laughed. "I suppose that is a good enough reason, isn't it? Yes, in the easiest form. It keeps your mind on my desires, what I want, and when you bow, whose desires do you serve?"
Jezebel smiled. "Yours!"
She was so excited for the answer, and he found it interesting that the answer she gave was not "my master" but "yours," specifically naming him. "Very good. Mine."
Because Asher certainly wasn't going to correct that. "Now, stand up and go to the end of the bed. I want you to bend forward over it."
When she did, he studied the outline of her form where her shorts hugged it, where she had gotten so affected, and he smiled.
But Asher didn't address that, instead striking her thighs with the crop. "Wider. Much wider. Available and open, remember?" Jezebel did spread them, but he shook his head. "Let's give you some practice with this one."
Jezebel lifted her head to turn and watched him and groaned when he came back to her with the spreader bar. "No fussing, Pet. It's for your own good. You want to be pleasing and open for me, don't you?"
"Yes, Master." Jezebel closed her eyes and lay still against the bedspread while he strapped her to the bar. Asher forced her legs as wide as the spreader would go.
"It's okay if it hurts after a time. You'll adjust to it with training, and you need to learn to spread this wide any time I command you."
"Yes, Master." Asher smiled at the surrender in her voice and slapped the crop against the inside of her thighs, down to the backs of her knees. "Oh, Master!"
"Shh. Do you mind if I leave my marks on you? You'll have to wear different clothes, but it would please me."
"No, I don't m-mind. Are you going to hurt me?"
By her tone of voice, he knew the answer she was hoping for was "yes." Instead, he said, "It depends on how well you take what I give you. Clasp your hands at the back of your neck and do not move them."
Jezebel obeyed, and he went to work, thinking of that tone that seemed to ask for some pain. So his little light submissive was starting to like darker things with their depth together.
God, he craved to have her in the dungeon, where he would have all the time in the world to learn these dark things that showed themselves as they went into deeper waters together.
For the time being, he had to satisfy himself with taking little bits at a time.
Jezebel clasped her hands in a white knuckled grip behind her neck, and her breath came in halting shudders as he cropped her, alternating between thighs and enjoying the sight of the marks that started to rise.
Asher worked the crop harder, wanting darker marks, and that's when the first cry escaped her.
And it wasn't a pained cry. It was a cry that made him curious. Masochism could stem from many sources, he had noticed.
Some people were just heavily wired to take their excitement from pain, and that excitement was a form of arousal.
Perhaps one of the most interesting things was how a sadist could train those fear responses in a masochist until she craved torment.
But there was another place that masochism could come from, and that was the desire to submit. And this one was the one he found the most interesting.
Even if a little slave didn't like pain, she could be trained and conditioned to adore it to worship the sensation.
If she knew it would please her master and knew she would reach the most intense subspace from the satisfaction of obeying difficult commands, then she could be heavily conditioned to cherish the thoughts of dark obedience.
***