Kim grinned. “Cullen talked to Raoul about it. He was all worried you’d squish Ben’s balls or something.”
“He was?” Anne winced, the hurt as unexpected as a paper cut. Surely, Cullen knew she’d never give a submissive more than he wanted—and sometimes not even that.
“Ohh, squish the balls. Please!” Sally bounced on the sectional. “You know how Ben’s so picky about our shoes. Almost nothing is good enough, so then you get the growl. ‘Take those shoes off.’ But once Anne finishes torturing his manly bits, he’ll sound like this”—she pitched her voice to a high falsetto—“Take dos shoes oooff.”
As the women broke out in laughter, Anne choked on her drink and grinned. She’d have to tell Ben what Sally had said.
Or not. Distance would be best.
How pitiful that just hearing his name had sped up her pulse. She still remembered the feel of his callused hands caressing her breasts. And wouldn’t she just love to tie him to a cross, so she could run her own hands all over him.
Stop. Now. Stay in the real world, not fantasyland. “You do realize, if a subbie could still talk, I’d feel as if I fell down on the job.”
“Oooh, poor Ben,” Sally said, doing a mime where a speechless Ben motioned to Uzuri to remove her shoes.
Uzuri blinked her imaginary confusion and pretended to hand Ben her thong instead.
Sally gaped and flung the thong from her in mortification.
“Oh, that’s too realistic.” Linda clapped. “Isn’t it cute how poor Ben still becomes embarrassed?”
“He blushes beautifully. I must say, he’s quite the hunk, if you prefer the masculine gender. And, from what I saw when Anne had him, he has a lot to squish.” Olivia’s cupped hands showed poor Ben had watermelon-sized testicles.
Poor Ben had better never hear how the women discussed him or he’d be blushing for a month.
Olivia continued, “I also noticed you didn’t push the pain when you scened with him. Did he make that a hard limit?”
“No.” Anne took a sip and studied the color of her drink. “I just didn’t have any urge to make him scream. I haven’t needed that in a while.”
Silence.
“But you were with Joey, and he’s a total pain-slut.” Sally yelped when Uzuri elbowed her in the ribs.
“You’re being impolite,” Uzuri scolded. Despite being a covert prankster, she was also the most respectful and courteous of the Shadowkittens.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“It’s all right, Sally,” Anne said. “I’m over Joey.” Although she had to admit his absence had created an aching void in her life. But, no matter how delightful he’d been, Joey’s dependence had become exhausting. “He wanted a full-time Mistress and, as you said, a higher level of pain.”
Olivia tilted her head. “I’ve noticed when your scenes contain more dominance than sadism, you appear most satisfied.”
“If your scenes are changing, are you changing as well?” Linda asked softly.
Changing. The foul word chilled Anne’s skin like the spray from a sleet storm. On the screen, Jennifer Grey was confronting her father for the first time. “Baby” was growing up, becoming a woman. I’m already a woman. Way past all that.
“You know, I really hate that word—change.” Anne’s voice came out thin. Small.
“Oh, Anne.” Linda slid from the couch to sit on Anne’s right, close enough that their shoulders rubbed as she said softly, “The earth is all about change. The seasons move from summer to winter. The continental plates push up mountains that the weather slowly grinds back down. On this planet, in this universe, nothing stands still.”
Change. Just the thought set up a queasiness inside. “Some of us prefer to stay in summer.” She managed a half a smile. “And prefer that our scenes don’t shift under our feet.”
“Sam said part of the power in your scenes came from anger, and you chose slaves who fed off that anger and the pain.” Linda stopped, letting her silence ask the question—is that what changed?
“That’s the problem.” Anne swallowed the rest of her drink, wishing it were alcohol-laden. “I’m not all that angry at men. Not any longer.”
“How come you were so mad?” Uzuri asked. “Did something happen that…” Her dusky skin darkened with her flush, and she turned her gaze to the television.
Anne twisted around to study her uneasily. The girl was going to have to talk about what had happened in her past one of these days. Z’s patience with the submissive’s so-called hard limit on her history wouldn’t last much longer. He’d given her a deadline, which was approaching fast.