Page 14 of Caging Cessie (Submissives of Rawhide Ranch #20)

Olive tapenade on a cracker.

The first few bites had been hard. She kept jerking back in reaction to having an unknown food item placed into her mouth. She couldn’t see it, didn’t get to touch it.

Finally, she’d relaxed enough to realize this could be fun. A game she played—trying to guess what he’d give her next, then trying to figure out what it was based on the smell before she got it onto her tongue and tasted it.

Her everyday meals were some sort of grain bowl with a protein, fat, and roasted or raw veggies. It was easy to meal prep those ingredients and then parcel them out into to-go containers. With those, every bite had a bit of everything, and no single ingredient stood out as the primary flavor.

Plus, they were fuel foods, with flavor a consideration, but not the primary focus.

This was entirely different. She was savoring each bite, tasting that item in isolation unless it was something like the tapenade that needed a bit of bread or a cracker as a vehicle for consumption.

She’d had soft brie and sharp cheddar. Bell peppers, cucumber, and strawberries. Chunks of chicken that tasted like they’d been grilled.

The next bite was… hmm.

“Brie and peach?” She asked once she’d swallowed.

“Yes. Do you like it? I was supposed to lightly grill the peaches but had something better to do than grill fruit.” His knuckle stroked her cheek.

“Something better to do?” She stressed the last word.

She really, really wanted him to do her.

Cessie shifted on the stool. Her butt was still a little tender from last night. She was sitting on a low stool, her legs spread, knees bent with her feet tucked under her. It was more comfortable than simply kneeling, but the seat of the stool was wood with no padding.

She’d found the most comfortable way to sit was to lean forward slightly, shifting her weight onto her thighs, with her hands braced on the edge of the stool between her legs. Leon hadn’t said anything about position, and she was grateful he wasn’t adding additional restrictions.

At least not yet.

Because if she knew her Leon, her Master, he would build on this until he took them both to the peak of their abilities and tolerance.

“Drink.” The command accompanied the press of a metal straw against her lower lip. She took several long pulls of the icy lemon water before releasing the straw.

She had a reprieve while he ate—even without being able to see, she knew what he was doing by the sounds of his shirt rustling and the faint noise of his swallows.

Cessie rocked a little, just a small movement, and one of contentment not discomfort.

“Open,” he commanded.

“I’m full, Master.” The word slipped out easily and felt right.

“Very well.”

He ate for another few moments before stroking her cheek. “I’m going to put the food away. You stay right where you are.”

She tensed up a little. She didn’t like this part. It had been very hard for her to sit on the stool, blind and unsure, while he retrieved the grazing board they’d prepared from the fridge. She’d lasted only seconds before she’d anxiously called out, “Leon?”

He’d started talking. Not about her, them, or what they were doing.

Instead, he talked about the food, telling her what kind of brie—triple creme of course—he’d chosen, and how he’d given a grocery list to the Ranch and how Luna, one of their service submissives had handled grocery shopping and then stocking the cabin.

The sound of his voice had anchored her to him, a bright tether in the darkness of the hood.

Now as he rose, he started talking again, this time about a couple of the venture capital projects he was considering investing in.

But she was focused on the sound of the clean-up—the click of Tupperware being closed, the opening and closing of drawers, doors, and the fridge.

“I can help,” she blurted out when she couldn’t take it anymore. “Either take the hood off for a few minutes, or maybe I could help with it still on. I could probably wash dishes with it or?—”

All sounds from the kitchen stopped, so she stopped too.

A second later he was crouching in front of her—she wasn’t sure how she knew he was crouching, but when he spoke the sound of his voice came from lower than it would have if he was sitting or standing.

“No, Cessie. You won’t be washing dishes blindfolded.”

“I wouldn’t wash the wine glasses, but I could?—”

“I’m not saying you couldn’t. You won’t.” His voice was hard.

“I want to help?—”

“Do you want to help, or are you uncomfortable not being the one doing the most work?”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“Are you uncomfortable with the idea that I’m going to make dinner, feed you dinner, and clean up dinner?”

“That’s not an equal relationship.”

“When we’re at home, no it wouldn’t be. But we’re not at home. We’re here, and one of the reasons we’re here is to see if you trust me.”

“I do trust you. You keep saying ‘trust’ but I trust you?—”

“Do you trust me to still love you even if you aren’t taking care of me? Doing things for me?”

Again, she stopped cold, heart hammering inside her chest. She hated that she couldn’t see him.

“Do you think I don’t realize that you do a million little things to take care of me, no matter how much I try and take off your plate?

I got us laundry service so you’d stop doing all our laundry at 2am while you were on call from home, so you made it your job to put everything away.

I realize there’s no magical sock and underwear fairy who buys new stuff for me when I need it. I know that’s you.”

“I like taking care of you,” she said in a small voice.

“And I like taking care of you.” His hand cupped the back of her head and then his lips touched hers.

Cessie leaned into the kiss, suddenly desperate. She sucked hard on his lower lip, mouth open and ready for his tongue. But he only slid the tip of his tongue along the inside of her upper lip, an intimate but not penetrative touch, before pulling back.

“It’s time to get ready for bed.”

“Bed?” Was it dark out? How long had it been since he put on the hood?

Leon helped her to her feet. He took both her hands in his and clearly walked backward as he guided her through the cabin. Her bare toes curled as they moved from wood flooring to cold tile.

The bathroom.

Cessie stopped short.

“You’re going to take off the hood when I need to use the bathroom, right?”

“No.”

“Leon, I can’t… I need to be able to see.”

“No, you don’t. I’ll make sure whatever you need is laid out.” He tugged, pulling her over to the counter and pressing her hands against the cool stone. “The toilet is two steps behind you.”

“You expect me to use the toilet blindfolded.”

“Yes.”

“What about… brushing my teeth?” Her voice was rising with a mix of panic and outrage.

“I've seen you brush your teeth with your eyes closed. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've seen you brush your teeth while sleeping standing up.”

“That’s different.”

“Proof of concept.”

“Leon!”

He reached around behind her and pinched her ass. Cessie yelped.

“You know I don’t really care what you call me—I don’t need to be called Master to know who and what I am to you.”

Those words settled something inside her.

“But,” he went on in an almost growl, “I will do what it takes to help you remember who you are to me.”

His submissive.

He guided her back until the toilet touched the backs of her legs.

“Please don’t make me pee in front of you,” she whispered.

“I won’t, but for the record, you’ve used the toilet while I was in the shower plenty of times.” Their tankless water heater system kept the toilet flushing from messing with the shower temperature.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I could see your face. I could tell if you thought I was gross.”

“Normal human bodily functions aren’t gross.”

“I mean I agree, but I’m a doctor.”

“And I’m a fully functioning mature adult who understands how the body works. I don’t find the fact that you pee and poop gross.”

Cessie groaned a little, even as she smiled at his words while hoping the hood covered her blush.

“Now, if you start eating your own scabs or something?—”

“Oh my god that’s disgusting! Go away and let me pee.”

His low, rumbling chuckle was wonderful.

She listened for the sound of his footsteps retreating and then the door closing.

She peed, careful to hold the dangling jess on her right wrist out of the way as she wiped, and then washed her hands.

Again, making sure not to get the jesses wet—at least she hoped she’d managed it, before finding the towel right beside the sink after only a few seconds of patting.

The bells chimed harshly every time they hit the stone countertop.

“That’s going to get annoying,” she muttered.

Cessie took a few steps toward the door, picturing the layout of the bathroom in her head, but stopped.

She could feel her way toward the door, or she could not risk a stubbed toe and instead ask for help.

“Leon?”

Before she’d finished the “n” sound, the door opened.

“Were you listening at the door? Pervert…” she teased, the smile wavering a little because she couldn’t see his reaction.

“When it comes to you, I’m the biggest of pervs.”

She could tell he was close by the sound of his voice, but when he grasped her nipples, she gasped, taking a half step back.

He tightened his hold, pinching her poor nipples, so as she moved, she yanked on her breasts.

With a second gasp she shifted forward.

A low level of arousal had been her constant companion since he told her to strip, though her desire was muted by anxiety.

Now Leon rolled her nipples gently, a purely pleasurable touch in counterpoint to the hard pinch of a moment ago, and desire flooded her. Her arousal was a sharp burn deep in her body, centered on her pussy, yes, but it heated every part of her.

Leon gently tugged her nipples, then swiped the very tips with the pads of his thumbs. She rose onto the balls of her feet as she sucked in a breath.

“I told you that there were other places on you where I could attach bells.”

“Nipple clamps?”

“Nipple clamps,” he confirmed. “Tweezer style so they can stay on longer.”

He plucked and twisted her nipples for another minute, until her hips worked involuntarily. Her pussy felt empty. She ached to be filled.

Bells chimed softly, the notes high and delicate compared to the sounds coming from her wrists.

There was soft pressure on either side of her left nipple. The compression increased until she was aware of it, but it didn’t hurt. When he was done, a slight weight tugged on her, and when she took a deep breath, bells chimed.

He applied the second clamp to her other nipple before taking several steps back.

“Come to me, Cessie.”

She hesitated, reaching out with one hand, expecting him to take it.

“Follow my voice. Trust that I’ve made sure there’s nothing in the way, nothing between us.”

That statement certainly had multiple levels to it, but need and trepidation prevented her from dwelling.

Cessie took a step toward his voice.

The bells on her ankles, wrists, and nipples all chimed softly. Each was a slightly different pitch and tone, so together it was almost harmonious.

She took another step but stopped. “What if I can’t hear you, because of the bells?”

“You’ll hear me. Take another step, beautiful. That’s right, you’re almost here. Can you take one more step? Just like that, baby.”

He talked her in, until her next step had her stepping on his foot. He grabbed her, holding her steady as she found her footing.

“Good girl.” He flicked the bells on her nipples, tweaking the clamps which it turn twisted her nipples.

Cessie moaned, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. He let her rest there for a moment, then took her hands in his.

“Ready for the cage?”