There went her lip again, pressed between her teeth as she followed him, a moth drawn to a deliciously dark flame, her small hand trustingly enfolded in his. "Can I choose a different word?" she asked softly, embarr*ssed by the way her voice trembled, giving away the longing just to be touched that was coursing through her. "I really don't want to be thinking about my brother when you're ... doing what you do." Stepping into the elevator with him, she drew her fingertips over his palm, reclaiming her hand to lean her back against the cool metal wall, hoping it would cool her own a little more. And making the mistake of meeting his eyes once again. Sh*t. I'm gonna c*m if he keeps looking at me like that.

"Of course you can," he smiled as he pressed in the security code. It would be so easy to take her in the elevator. He could imagine her legs wrapped around his waist as he plowed into her. But, he was a patient man, and she must learn patience, too. Christian kept his distance more for her safety than his own. She keeps giving me that come hither stare and I'm going to lose all control. With that thought running through his hair, he scowled at his own image, reflected back to him in the walls of the elevator. "What are your safe words, Miss Garabedian?" He couldn't keep that hooded gaze from her, though. And, not soon enough, the bell dinged and the doors slid open.

"Uh ..." Under that burning hot gaze of his, her mind went completely blank, and she felt panic rising up, knowing that he was expecting an answer that she just couldn't muster up. The longer he held her eyes, the quicker her breath became, the hotter her skin flushed, the more she wanted to rip all her clothes off and beg him to f*ck her. Words, I need ... words? Something that neither of them would be able to mistake in the midst of something intimate. "Uh ..." C'mon, c'mon, he's waiting. F*ck! "Pringles?"

He finally did drag his gaze away when the doors opened. Her choice of a safe word had him chuckling. "Pringles?" Well, that was new. "Alright, Pringles for when you've almost reached your limit. How about for when you've simply had enough?" He paused by the bookshelf nearest the door to gather the mail that was sitting there. As he strolled into his apartment, he thumbed through it with a bored look on his face.

"I need a different word for that?" Heather was a little surprised to hear that. She'd thought she would only have to remember one unusual word, now he wanted her to come up with another one? How was she supposed to remember her own name, much less Pringles and something else, while he was all ... kinky f*ckery with her. Hell, all he had to do was look at her in a certain way and she forgot basic things, like how to breathe. "Uh ... weevil."

"You are truly a daughter of the south, aren't you?" He dropped the mail onto the table top and considered her with a grin. "Pringles and weevils. Very well, Miss Garabedian." He couldn't wait for her lessons to begin. Walking to his desk, he grabbed a yellow steno pad and pushed the chair back, offering it to her. "Need to get a few things straight, first. Please, have a seat."

She grumbled at him. Bastard knows I'm hot for him. He's just stringing this out now. "Yeah, well, it's kinda hard to think straight when you have a direct line to my groin, twinkle-toes," she grumped quietly, dropping her bag onto a chair and leaving her jacket with it. "What is this, an interview now?"

"Patience," he chuckled and lowered himself into a chair. "It's an interview of sorts, I guess. I just want to clear the air about what you will and won't condone, Miss Garabedian. I want you to know what I will and won't condone. That way, we've got a clear picture of what we really want and expect from each other. It's completely negotiable, at any time, I *ssure you."

Sighing with impatience, Heather sat herself down at the end of the couch - close, but not so close as to be immediately distracting. One leg hooked over the other as she leaned her elbow onto the arm of the couch, the hand that delved into her hair releasing more strands of pale blonde to skim her bare neck and shoulders. "All right," she frowned, a little lost already. "It's gonna have to be negotiable - you know I don't know about this stuff."

"Always," he nodded. If she thought it was hard on her to wait through this, it was pure torture for Christian. As he wrote down his favorite things to do, and then followed with things that he refused to do, he could imagine her in the various states of ecstasy with each implement or procedure. By the time he finished his list, he was panting slightly and perspiring. "Here, I've made two lists. Look over them and decide what you think you can and can't do." He looked to her then, holding the steno pad and pen out to her, his hands trembling. In anticipation? Fear? Anxiousness. All of the above. The first list consisted of: Restraints - padded cuffs for wrists and ankles, spreader bar, gag, blindfold, nipple clamps, flesh clamps, and bondage yoke. Toys: vibrator, dildo, *ss hook, butt plug, erotic electro-stimulation, floggers, paddles, canes. Hard limits: fire play, urine or "water sports", defecation, blood letting.

It was sheer torture just watching him write. As the pen moved over the paper, Heather found herself wondering what it would feel like if she was the paper, and abruptly curtailed the thought as the resulting mental image sent a spike of liquid fire through her. She was biting her lip, again. And then she noticed it - he was tense. He was more than tense, he was anxious. His hands are shaking. Is he that worried I'm gonna freak out? Her fingers brushed his as she took the pad from him, trying to be re*ssuring before her eyes fell to the elegant curve of his handwriting. Okay. Most of this doesn't seem so scary. But ... She looked up at him. "I don't know what some of these are."

It was Christian's turn to hold his breath as she scanned the written document. It was killing him, not knowing what she was thinking as she read his sexual history. She's going to bolt. You've gone too far and she's going to run for the hills, screaming her lungs out. When she lifted her head, he searched her face for clues as to what she may be thinking. Her simple statement had him perplexed. She's not screaming, at least. "What don't you understand? I'll try to answer as best that I can." Really? Really!

"Well, I know or I can guess what most of it is, but there's a couple of things here I really have no frame of reference for," she admitted, finally able to put her sex drive to one side and actually settle into an adult discussion. Ryan would have a fit if he knew this was what I let myself in for. "Like ... I can guess what nipple clamps are, but flesh clamps I can't get my head around. And what's a bondage yoke?"

When Christian began to explain, he gained an almost clinical air. "Flesh clamps are like clothes pins, like what you use to hang clothes out on the line to dry from? They come in different sizes and strength. If you agree to it, I'll start you with the small ones. They just pinch a little." He smiled, trying to reassure her. "A yoke goes around your neck, it's a piece of wood with padding, and your hands are bound to it by leather cuffs. Sometimes your knees, or ankles, too. Depends on the situation. But," he wanted to clarify, "that's a long way down the road. You're no where near ready for that."

"Okay." That doesn't sound too bad, she found herself musing, her eyes returning to the list as she considered what else was written there. One brow rose as she looked up once again. "No canes. One of my tutors when I was a kid liked to hit me with this bamboo thing he had when I went wrong, I know I don't like it."

"Go ahead and mark it off of the list and put it under hard limits, the cane, that is," he agreed immediately. To this, he grinned, imagining her trying to squirm away and his hand firmly gripping the shiny chrome plated handle. "Another thing for the future, unless you've done anal play before?" Now this might be an interesting answer.

And there was her blush again. This was an embarrassing thing to talk about. "Once," she confessed softly, pinning her eyes to the paper in her hand, not seeing the words any longer. She fidgeted awkwardly as she spoke. "I was curious, and he'd been talking about it for a while, and ..." Her voice lowered to a quietly horrified whisper. "It hurt. It hurt a lot, but ... I'm still curious."

Christian's eyes narrowed dangerously when she'd admitted to being hurt in the past. "Did you gain any pleasure from it, at all?" He hoped she had, because that kind of pain deserves a twelve course dollop of pleasure to go with it. "Because that's not what this is about, Heather. It's about stretching your limits and using pain as a small tool to the extents of pleasure that you've never imagined."

"I ..." Oh boy, this is so embarr*ssing. I'm talking about my *ss to a guy who wants to own it. So weird. She drew in a slow breath, biting her lip for a long moment before she went on. "I was, well, I was getting into it before he ..." She gestured rather forcefully, hoping that would be enough to convey how rough her first experience of anal play had been. But she did try to lighten the moment. "But, yanno, it obviously did something for him. He's gay now."

And while Christian understood that gay men needed to experiment and be sure of their sexuality before telling the world about it, that didn't mean he agreed to it. "I'm sorry that he hurt you. You weren't ready for a dick in the *ss. You start much smaller, more delicate, when training that bit of the anatomy," he smiled then and held up his pinky finger. "With this," he looked at her with a c*cked brow. "Think you could handle that?"

She blinked, her eyes focusing on his pinky with suddenly dilated pupils. Oh ... oh, I think I can handle that just fine. But she didn't say anything, just nodded and smiled faintly, wondering just what it was about him that brought out this shy side of her. She'd never been shy with guys before .. just Christian. Am I a secret sub or something? Swallowing, she glanced back at the list in her hands, and her expression changed to more than mild disgust. "Please tell me hard limits are absolute no's. Because I'm not into anything under that heading."

He smiled warmly, then, and caressed her cheek with his pinky, then dropped his hands into his lap. "Those are definitely no-no's. Only the truly sick and f*cked up do those kinds of things. And they're potentially very dangerous. I wouldn't even think to do it to you, ever." He may be a bit on the kinky side, but he'd never want to actually hurt anybody.

"May I borrow your pen?" The list needed tidying up, and she thought she was going to need a copy of her own. Heather could see a long session on the internet coming up while she investigated some of the possibilities ahead of her.

"Certainly," he nodded, handing it over. "You don't have to decide, right now. I understand this can all be a bit overwhelming." He hoped that she wanted to learn more about his particular world of kinky f*ckery, so she could make an educated decision versus an emotional one.

"I'm not signing my name to this right this instant," she chuckled, and with the sound was relaxed, breaking the odd air of tension that had fallen between them. "I want to copy it out so I can do a little research." As she spoke, she moved the pen over the paper, redefining the hard limits as they had agreed. She wasn't entirely sure about some of the things there, but she wasn't foolish enough to say no without knowing more. Blue eyes flickered to his as she tore off one sheet and handed it to him, returning her gaze to the pad to set out her own copy. "That doesn't mean I don't want to start learning, just ... maybe take it easy on the whole pain side until I know what I'm getting myself into?"

He took the list from her and then set it aside. Getting up from his chair, he reached for her hand. "Come with me. I'd like to give you the tour." He had already explained that he wouldn't do anything she said no to and that he'd stop any activities that went beyond her limits. So, acknowledging her question would only mean repeating himself. But then, that might not be a bad idea. "Until you agree to anything otherwise, we're strictly vanilla flavored."

"So ... so if I want you to do anything to me, I-I have to ask?" What the hell is wrong with me? I have never had a problem telling guys what I want before. Yes, but before Christian, it had been pretty safe subjects like harder, gently, or against this wall, right now. She slipped the second copy of the list into her bag, sparing a hopeful thought that Ryan wouldn't ever see it, and slid her hand into Christian's, rising onto her feet with a soft flush. "How long is the tour gonna take?" she asked, drawing her thumbnail over his palm. Sensible Heather was going back in her box; Come-Hither Heather flashed those eyes at him again.

"Before the play sessions, you can ask for anything and I'll do my best to provide it. But during the sessions, it's my call on what's done to you. I already will know what you don't want, so the rest is fair game. It continues until we both get what we want out of it, or you safe word." He pulled her to his side and bent his head to kiss her. It wasn't exactly chaste, his need was too much to warrant that, but it wasn't so intense that the clothes went flying, either. "Well, there's really only one room I really want to show you," he smiled then and turned to lead her behind the stairwells to a room he kept under lock and key. Once the door was opened, he flicked the lights on, then stepped back. Tugging her hand, he encouraged her to enter the room and explore it. The walls were painted a rich, dark red and the ambivalent lighting cast parts of the walls in those shadows. Overhead, the metal beams were left exposed, but also painted in the same color as the walls. Various hooks and carabiners hung and shone dully. A four foot by three foot long piece of supple leather was suspended from the ceiling by four long chains in the center of the room. To the right, various belts, floggers, riding crops and canes hung from a rack. He had quite the collection of those. A kneeling bench with leather padding stood against one wall, next to a tall dresser with a lot of drawers. There was an indention in one wall where his iPod doc and sound system controls were nestled. A padded work out bench sat near the wall opposite of the kneeling bench. Christian breathed in and held that breath, waiting for her response.

The kiss had hazed her mind again, the smile he gave her following it enough to make her own lips quirk in answer as he took her hand to lead her to a room she hadn't even realized there was room for back there. And what a room. Heather stared for a long time, fascinated and - if she were completely honest - kind of turned on by the vast array of alien objects all around her. The only thing she saw that made her frown were the canes - so many of them, so lovingly displayed. Her face paled as she looked at them, quickly turning her gaze away and fighting against the mild apprehension that had risen at the sight. "This is ... You really are a Dom, aren't you?" she asked, turning to look at him in quiet amazement.

He began to breathe again, once she started exploring the room. Noticing her reaction to the canes, he made a mental note to put them into his storage facility at his parent's house. Stepping inside behind her, he took a lean against the wall and simply watched. When she turned, he raised his hand enough to flip a switch on the floodlight that drowned the middle of the room, and her in it, in bright light. "I am, Miss Garabedian," he answered, the pitch and tone of his voice darker than even a few moments before. This was his bit of the universe and he was master of it.

She gasped, suddenly in the spotlight, and quite suddenly knew this was yet another side to Christian Moretz she had yet to fully experience. Her eyes grew wide as that tone of voice called to something inside her, shocked by the way her personal inner voice suggested that getting on her knees might be a good idea right now. She didn't do it, of course, but the flush on her skin and heave of her chest were more than indication enough that he had her. She swallowed, blinking, peering to see more than just the dark shadow of his outline beyond the light that dazed her vision. "I, uh ... I've never been scared in a good way before," she heard herself say, wondering what was wrong with her again. Great, why not just tip your head back and let him put a leash on you?

Christian flipped the switch once again and the light went off. "In this room, I am in control." Pushing off of the wall, he strode towards her in a casual yet very not casual sort of way. "You will speak when I ask you to speak. You'll move, when I tell you to move. Do you understand, Miss Garabedian?" When he reached her, he placed his fingertips to her shoulder to push the tendrils back from her neck. "There are two positions I want to find you in, when I enter this room. The first one, is over here." His hand dropped from her shoulder as he turned to walk to the door and stand beside it. "Here, you will kneel. Come, I'll show you." He turned to her then and lifted his hand with a smile on his face. Kid at Christmas.

Something inside her had just sat up and begged. Heather was a little horrified at how eager some part of herself was for this sort of thing, but that didn't prevent her from shivering as his fingertips brushed over her bare shoulder, her skin tingling in the wake of his touch. Her mouth opened to answer ... and nothing came out, Wide-eyed and erotically nervous, she moved toward him as he smiled and gestured to her, shocked at herself. At how good it felt to make him smile.

"Good girl," he praised her and stepped to the side so she could follow his instructions. "Now, to your knees," his hand went to her shoulder and he applied just a small bit of pressure. "Once you're there, your knees should be as far apart from each other as comfortable. Head down and hands placed on your feet. Your *ss should remain on your feet until I tell you to move. Do you understand, Miss Garabedian?" Christian loved breaking in a new sub, every time it were as if it was the first. This time, when his hand trembled, it was out of excitement.

"I ..." Geez, remember the rules, Heather. He only told you, like, ten seconds ago! "Yes, Mr Moretz." It wasn't going to be the most comfortable position in the world in five inch wedges, but she could only hope he was just demonstrating his power right now. He had said he'd stay mostly vanilla until she was ready, hadn't he? She was trembling, too, as he pressed her down onto her knees, sitting back on her heels with a faint wince. This would definitely be more comfortable in different shoes. She made a mental note to wear pumps or flats when she came over here in future. Setting her hands on her feet, Heather spread her knees wide - eighteen years of gymnastics came in handy, after all - and lowered her head, surprised to find how deeply her back was arched. There she was, displayed for him in what could almost be a humiliating fashion, and some traitorous part of her mind was wondering how it would feel to be like this naked.

Once she'd assumed the position, he drew in a sharp breath. God, but she was beautiful. And Christian could see how hard she was trying to please him. "Stand up, Miss Garabedian. You've been a very good girl. The next one won't be so very uncomfortable," he promised. "Over here," he walked to the padded work out bench. "Just park your *ss on the edge of the bench, hands grasping the edge, head down and heels off of the ground." She was taking to this like a champ and there was no small part of him that wasn't proud of how brave she was being.

Awkwardly, she rose to her feet, still shaking. Why was she shaking? He hadn't done anything to her, he'd just ... taken control. With his voice. He hasn't even touched me, and I'm practically panting. It was a shock to the system. She'd made a habit of never giving in to anyone - not her family, not boyfriends, certainly not to tutors or employers - and yet here she was, submitting without a squeak. Well, maybe one squeak. "Uh ... I can't take my heels off the floor in these shoes," she pointed out, forgetting that she'd spoken out of turn until she looked at his face. She flushed deep crimson, hurriedly planting herself on the bench in the correct position. "Sir."

"We're not in character, Miss Garabedian," he nodded his understanding. And once she sat, he moved to her. Cupping her face in both hands, he raised her face to gaze into her eyes. "You are so brave and amazing," lowering to a crouch to be more on the level with her. "I hope I never do anything to screw this up, Heather. You deserve the best, and I will endeavor to give it to you."

If only she'd known the view she presented to him when he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Blue eyes wide, trusting but just a little uncertain, lips parted for a moment before she bit her lip once again - small and vulnerable, and his. The praise hit her like a ton of bricks, and again, she was shocked at her reaction, how wonderful it felt to hear him praise her when she'd done nothing but obeyed him. As he crouched, she swallowed, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. "I-I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed in a tiny whisper. "I'll make so many mistakes, and I ... I don't want to disappoint you." The only thing stopping her from object aloud to hearing herself say that was the sudden realization that he was right. This was the bravest thing she had ever done.

"I will help you," he assured her and then leaned forwards to kiss her. He was trembling again, his hands tight to her face, but not in a crushing grip. The things she was doing to his calm were completely uncharted territory for him. "But you have to help me, too," he opened his eyes to look into hers once more. "If I screw up, please tell me I've screwed up. I need you to be so honest with me, Heather. I'm trusting you to be so very honest." His voice was soft and his breath warm, only inches from her. "I need you, right now."