“It’s time to explain the rules of your training.”
Cessie was outwardly composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but her heart was pounding in her ears, and her nipples were hard and aching to be touched. Leon sat across from her withthat relaxed, dominant air that said he had no doubts he was in control.
And his face? His familiar, loved face, bore a slight smile. That devilish tilt of his lips made her simultaneously nervous and aroused.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured. “I’m going to train you the way a falconer trains a bird of prey.”
Cessie blinked, swallowing hard now that he’d explicitly stated what they’d implicitly discussed on the couch.
Leon reached for the platter on the table and picked up a slice of pear, holding it lightly between his fingers. “This is the first step. From now on, you won’t feed yourself. You’ll only eat from my hand.”
Cessie felt her breath catch. Only from his hand. Total dependence. Each meal an act of trust, of submission.
Part of her rebelled. What if she was hungry? What if he gave her a bite that was too big? What if he picked a food she didn’t like?
What if she trusted him not to forget to feed her or trusted that if she said she was hungry he’d make sure she got food.
What if she trusted him not to feed her too much or the wrong things.
“Second, you’ll be hooded whenever you’re not in the cage.”
“What?” The single word came out sharp and hard. It wasn’t really a question, but a protest. He couldn’t be serious.
“Falcons hunt by sight, so removing their ability to see helps them stay calm, because they aren’t scanning for prey. When you’re hooded, you’ll have to rely on my voice. My touch.”
Cessie swallowed hard. She didn’t like that one.
“Only when you leave the cage,” he said gently.
Clearly her dislike had shown on her face.
“You’ll wear jesses.”
“Jesses?”
“The leather strap around and dangling from a falcon’s leg is called a jess. When the falcon is perched on the falconer’s hand, he holds the jess to keep the bird there. The jesses stay on always, even when the falcon flies free.”
“Cuffs,” she said softly.
He nodded. “At your wrists and ankles. A collar sometimes too.”
Okay, that one she could handle. That was normal.
“There will be bells on your jesses, and sometimes I’ll add bells to… other parts of your body.”
Cessie’s lips parted, a needy sound escaping before she could stop it. His gaze flicked down and she knew he was looking at her hard nipples. She ached for the pinch of clamps with bells against her nipples.
“The bells are so I’ll always know where you are,” he went on. “I’ll know when you’re moving, and when you’re still. I’ll hear every step you take. Every hesitation.”
Leon lifted the piece of pear again, extending it toward her across the table. She leaned forward without thinking, without breaking eye contact, and took it gently from his fingers with her teeth.
She sat back, chewing.
“I’ll talk to you,” he said. “I’ll touch you. Often. Until you know me without seeing me. Until you recognize the sound of me, the feel of me, better than anything else.”
Cessie held his gaze. “I already do.”
Now he looked surprised, and she hated that he found her words startling. How could he when every night, no matter how they started out in bed, in her sleep she’d reach out and pull his arm across her body. Her best sleep came when she had the weight of his arm pressing down on her.
