https://youtu.be/59UIaT8SXWk

(Author's Note: If you would like to listen to Chapter 35 parts 1 and 2 on audio, please click the video. Please Enjoy it)

    When he fully opens the doors, I notice there are silver handcuffs, black to darkish brown riding crops, red ropes, black leather whips, and combat weapons. From a metal leaf-shaped blade that looks like a sword, to different kinds of guns that look strange to me, and I have no idea what type of weapons these are. 

"Why do you have..." What is the proper word to call this? But I can't think of anything, so I just say, "This stuff."

  "These weapons were my grandfather's; he used this for our protection. From..." he says, but then stops when he says the word from, and shakes his head. "Never mind," he shrugs. "It was mostly for decoration. You know to look nice."

   Decoration? Then why did he say for our protection? What is he hiding? More secrets you are keeping from me, Chris?

  "Then why do you have this," I wave my hand around to the handcuffs, whips, ropes, and riding crops.

    He grins wickedly and that smile is uneasy to me. "Hmm, those are actually mine. There are for me..." he pauses for a second, and his eyes are a scorching shade of dark blue, very intense. I have to look away. "And for you," he finally whispers.

     "For me? How?" I ask quickly.  Do I even want to know the answer?

    "For your pleasure," he states.

    My pleasure? What the hell did I get myself into? In all my wildest dreams I never expected Chris to have this. I didn't know this stuff existed in the real world.

  "Are you a dominant?" I blurt out. But the truth is I really have to know if he is or not. To ease my mind. 

  "A dominant?" He says slowly. 

  "Yes," I confirm, then continue. "You know, I would be your submissive and you are my dominant? Or something like that."

 He shakes his head with a half-smile. "Sussianna, I don't need that type of label to get women to do things in the bedroom, or practically anywhere. I know what a dominant and submissive are, and if I did make you my submissive, then that means I want you to pleasure me..." 

  He rakes his hand over through his thick hair and grins slightly.  "Well, I just like to pleasure women. It's my thing. Don't get me wrong, I like to get pleasure as well, but like I said I just love to pleasure women; somehow it arouses me. So to answer your question, no I am not a dominant." 

  "Then why do you have these things?"

  "Because most women love for me to do this to them or were they do it back to me. They actually enjoy it."

   What? How could they impossibly enjoy it? It's not something I would enjoy. He thinks I would be into this. Oh, hell no. Alright, I have read stuff like this before in my erotic books and I thought maybe someday I would be willing to try it, but it was more of a joke to myself. I never thought that I would literally be doing it or that anyone in the real world was actually into this... stuff. I thought this was all fiction.    

   "You think women like to be tortured and be whipped at?" I question him. 

  "Not tortured," he shakes his head. "It's mostly pleasure. I don't do it hard, and if I get too rough on them, I told them to say a safe word. Same with you, if you let me."

  Okay, how is he not dominating me? For one, he likes control and likes his way. Then he likes to punish, I distinctly remember he said he would punish me, especially by rolling my eyes.

  He retrieves a black riding crop that hangs at the corner of the closet and then he holds out his hand towards me. 

 I hesitate to take it. 

 What? Is he going to whip me with that thing?

 "Here, give me your hand. I want to show you it's not torture, and it won't hurt you. I won't hurt you," he affirms and his blue gaze is not intense as they were before but has softened; he's pleading with me.

   I sigh and place my hand on his. Without taking his dark blue eyes off of mine, he turns my palm, so it faces up and rapidly flicks the end of the riding crop over my hand. The touch of it makes me quiver and exhale all at once. Adequately, I do have a sensual feeling inside me. I can feel it all the way down there. How could hitting me awaken something inside of me?

  "See it doesn't hurt... Did it hurt you?"

   My breathing accelerates, and I quickly glance at him before looking back at my palm. "No, it didn't-" But I still don't get why he wants me to do this. So I ask him, "What makes you think I would want to do this with you?"

  He blinks a couple of times in confusion. I assume I must have startled him. "As I said, it's for your pleasure."

  I laugh. "My pleasure?"

  "Yes. There is other stuff than these whips and bondage. If you look closely I have some toys here-" 

   I don't understand. 

  "Toys? You mean like your action figures?" I question him by interrupting. 

   He chuckles loudly, shaking his head. "Not what I was talking about."

  He bends down and pulls out a small wooden chest. He opens up the chest and I hear a 'click' as he slowly opens it, he grabs a copper-toned goldish color; for the body, it's long, sort of large material, and the tip of the material is a silky white silicone with a circle of a hole going around the white head. He holds it up to show me. I look at him with confusion, then back to the material he's holding in front of me. What's that supposed to be or even do? It looks like a strange science fiction prop to me or some type of tool to use for a science project. 

   "This is a vibrator, well not necessarily a vibrator, but it supposes to be a wave around the clit, or at least that's what the reviews say. It's called the Satisfyer. I've used this to pleasure women, before. Yeah, I have used my tongue to pleasure women as well. Well, not just my tongue, but my fingers, and my... dick," he smirks, and his eyes tinkly with delight.  

  I drop my mouth open. I shouldn't be surprised by Chris's choice of words and his extreme language, but I still am.   

  "And you think those pleasures women," I say as I turn my gaze away from him to stare at the closet full of stuff that I consider torture. 

   "You're telling me I didn't pleasure you just now with my tongue?" I focus back on Chris and I see he runs his tongue over his upper lip. 

  Crap! He's distracting me, and it's kinda working. He knows what he's doing and it's disarming.  

"I take your silence as a yes." he raises his eyebrows.

 I shake my head from side to side telling him, no, but I can't bring myself to speak because I know he's right. Geez, I know he's aware that he is veracious; by the way his expression with it being mixed with amusement and vexation, he's giving me right now.

  "Shaking your head no. Hmm, then why did you call out my name as you came? I recall you pulling my hair and feeling so deliciously wet." He smirks and comes closer to me and I back up trying my best to escape him, but if I move any further away from him then my heel will hit the edge of the bed.

  My shoulders sag in defeat. This man is so frustrating. Aarrgh, just stop it, Chris. "Stop distracting me," I say out loud and I put my hands over my mouth trying to force the words back in, but I know it's too late.  I regret saying those words. Gosh!

  "Distracting you. Hmm, how?" He half whispers half moans. 

  "Please, Chris. Just don't do this," I beg.

  "And what am I doing to you, Sussianna?" He asks when eyeing me with hooded eyes and steps closer to me- the riding crop still in his hand, and as I predicted my heel hits against the foot of the bed. I am trapped and my escape plan is out of the question. Damn it!

  He brings the riding cop in front of me. For a moment I thought he was going to hit me with it again, but instead, he sighs and says, "Here take the riding crop."

  His request surprises me. "Why?" Why on earth does he want me to take that thing? Is he planning for me to hit myself?

  "To prove I am not a dominant. You know, not just women, but men also like to play as well," he murmurs and hands me the riding crop and I take it.

  "Play?"

  "Yes, play. Whip me."

   My eyes widen. What? Is he serious? "Whip you?" I question slowly. 

   He can't be actually serious? Is he? 

  "Yes..." He holds out his hand out towards me and turns it so his huge palm is facing up. "Do the same to me, whip my hand."

  "Wait..." I stare at his palm like it's some kind of foreign creature that has come to earth. He has completely overwhelmed me. "You like to be whipped and tortured as well."

  "It's not torturing!" He yells and I flinch. He's fighting me now.

  He closes his eyes for a moment trying to control himself to lower his voice. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you. Well to answer your question, I had the luxury of another woman doing it to me, but I would like for you to try it... I mean only if you want to. I just to prove to you that it's not torture but pleasure..." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, but still holds out his other hand for me. 

 In confusion, I let out a breath and I barely swat his palm with the crop. He groans. Does he like it? Confusing man.

 I look at him and feel silently shy for some reason. He, on the other hand, is gazing down at me, his eyes are smoking to a devilish blue and completely they feel like they are hunting me. I have to look away again, alternatively, to not look directly at him I close my eyes. How does he always have some type of effect on me? 

  "Why so shy?" He asks.

  Shit. 

  "I-I am not-" I lie. How does he always know what my emotions are? Still, looking down, I sigh. "I just don't see why you like this kind of torture."

  Okay, I have to admit I am sort of aroused by it, but of course, I am not going to tell him that. 

 "How many times do I have to tell you it's pleasure? Have I hurt you yet?"

  Not physically, but emotionally you have, and part of me doesn't know if you will hurt me in the end.  I want to tell him, but decide against it because then he knows what he has done to me. But maybe I should tell him that. Gosh, I am thinking too much about this. I just need room to breathe, to think this through- all of this.

  I move past him, not answering that question. This time he doesn't make a grab for me and lets me exit the cabin. I guess he got the hint that I don't like to be grabbed at or maybe for once he's deciding to give me some space. 

  Before I exit I glance at him and tell him, "Can you please take me home?"

  I know I've missed work today, it's already too late and my shift is almost over because the sun is setting. I just have to explain to Camille why I didn't make it to work today. I'll tell her I had gotten sick. But my subconscious always is nosy and comes running from behind me, and says, like she's going to believe that story, she is no dummy.

  I am so fucked not just by Camille and her prying into my business, but by Chris's outlook on his life as well. This is his world and I just don't know if I am ready for this or not. 

  Hey, everyone, I hoped you liked this chapter and that you finally know what is in Chris's closet. Thank you so much for reading, voting, and all of your lovely comments. I appreciate all of you and I can't thank you enough to continue reading my novel. I also hope you liked Chris's side of saying he's not a dominant, but do you guys believe he is one? Let me know, until next time everyone.