so.
I flipped the heavy blanket and single top sheet back. She stood just inside the room, enough that I could make out her shadow. “I’ll only ask this once. After that, if there is more than just this one time, the decision will always be mine to make. Light on or off?”
“On.” Her reply came swiftly and I flicked the switch on the lamp. It didn’t give off a lot of light, but it would be enough to see her and to let her see me. I needed her to see me, to see that it was me. I needed to know she could not only feel the difference in what she remembered of him, but see the difference, too.
I sat on the edge of the bed and motioned her forward. I was both pleased and mildly surprised that there were no hesitant steps. She didn’t delay coming to me, she simply did it. There was no blush, no sigh, no nothing beyond doing as I wanted.
I didn’t see her as a Beck and Call Girl, but I did like it, that she did what she was instructed to do, especially when I knew these moments had to be as difficult for her as all the moments leading up to them.
I wrapped my hands around her waist and slid them up her back. Goosebumps rose along her skin and her breathing hitched. Good. I wanted her reactions to everything. I wanted to be able to tell what she was feeling without words. We’d get to that at some point, but for now, I just wanted her to feel, to come alive.
Her bra had four catches. Companies should make sexier lingerie for curvier girls. Maybe research was in my future, finding her the prettiest, most feminine, sexiest bras and panties I could find.
She didn’t twitch or reach out to stop me. She didn’t move a muscle, save for the involuntary jumps every so often when I did something she liked. “Nervous?”
“Oddly, no,” she said softly. “I should be, right? I mean, it’s been a long time. We’re new to each other. There should be nerves, shouldn’t there? But there aren’t.”
“Good girl. I don’t want you nervous.” I removed her shirt the rest of the way and discarded it in a chair in the corner. I pulled her bra off with no preamble, no drawn out reveal. Just slid the straps down her arms. I wanted to see the areolas and the nipples pebbled in the cool of the air. I wanted to get her naked, but not without taking some time to savor the woman she was, to commit this first time to memory. “I can’t stop touching you,” I admitted. “Not a very Dom-like thing to say. I’m sure I’m breaking a rule somewhere, but you’re beautiful.” Her skin wasn’t blemish free. She had little cuts that had healed, little marks that looked as though she’d burned herself. She had a few stretch marks from having been heavier and lost some weight and vice versa.
I wanted to devour her. I wanted to eat and lick and nip at her. I wanted to mark her, brand her. I wanted her on her knees for me. I wanted her in my bed, my house. I wanted her to serve me. Not just the coffee I’d come to be served by way of her job, but personally, intimately, erotically. I wanted her submission.
“The pictures of you in The Club showed a woman who was at peace with her submission. That’s what I’ve always wanted.” I drew circles around her areolas as I talked. “I wanted from someone what I saw between you and Tim.”
Talking to her like this, sharing my intimate thoughts with her while she was mostly naked, seemed appropriate in a naughty sort of way. I was baring myself and I was baring her. She’d opened herself over the past couple of days and now I was doing the same.
“I’ve never owned a submissive. Played, yes. A lot.” I looked up and winked. “Skills, baby. I got skills.” She giggled at my words and I flicked her nipple, wanting a moan, too. I got one. “But I hadn’t found a woman I wanted to own. The way you looked at him, though? I knew I wanted that look aimed at me.”
I tasted her breast, first one, the underside, then the other, the nipple. She had her own musk as all women did and
I flipped the heavy blanket and single top sheet back. She stood just inside the room, enough that I could make out her shadow. “I’ll only ask this once. After that, if there is more than just this one time, the decision will always be mine to make. Light on or off?”
“On.” Her reply came swiftly and I flicked the switch on the lamp. It didn’t give off a lot of light, but it would be enough to see her and to let her see me. I needed her to see me, to see that it was me. I needed to know she could not only feel the difference in what she remembered of him, but see the difference, too.
I sat on the edge of the bed and motioned her forward. I was both pleased and mildly surprised that there were no hesitant steps. She didn’t delay coming to me, she simply did it. There was no blush, no sigh, no nothing beyond doing as I wanted.
I didn’t see her as a Beck and Call Girl, but I did like it, that she did what she was instructed to do, especially when I knew these moments had to be as difficult for her as all the moments leading up to them.
I wrapped my hands around her waist and slid them up her back. Goosebumps rose along her skin and her breathing hitched. Good. I wanted her reactions to everything. I wanted to be able to tell what she was feeling without words. We’d get to that at some point, but for now, I just wanted her to feel, to come alive.
Her bra had four catches. Companies should make sexier lingerie for curvier girls. Maybe research was in my future, finding her the prettiest, most feminine, sexiest bras and panties I could find.
She didn’t twitch or reach out to stop me. She didn’t move a muscle, save for the involuntary jumps every so often when I did something she liked. “Nervous?”
“Oddly, no,” she said softly. “I should be, right? I mean, it’s been a long time. We’re new to each other. There should be nerves, shouldn’t there? But there aren’t.”
“Good girl. I don’t want you nervous.” I removed her shirt the rest of the way and discarded it in a chair in the corner. I pulled her bra off with no preamble, no drawn out reveal. Just slid the straps down her arms. I wanted to see the areolas and the nipples pebbled in the cool of the air. I wanted to get her naked, but not without taking some time to savor the woman she was, to commit this first time to memory. “I can’t stop touching you,” I admitted. “Not a very Dom-like thing to say. I’m sure I’m breaking a rule somewhere, but you’re beautiful.” Her skin wasn’t blemish free. She had little cuts that had healed, little marks that looked as though she’d burned herself. She had a few stretch marks from having been heavier and lost some weight and vice versa.
I wanted to devour her. I wanted to eat and lick and nip at her. I wanted to mark her, brand her. I wanted her on her knees for me. I wanted her in my bed, my house. I wanted her to serve me. Not just the coffee I’d come to be served by way of her job, but personally, intimately, erotically. I wanted her submission.
“The pictures of you in The Club showed a woman who was at peace with her submission. That’s what I’ve always wanted.” I drew circles around her areolas as I talked. “I wanted from someone what I saw between you and Tim.”
Talking to her like this, sharing my intimate thoughts with her while she was mostly naked, seemed appropriate in a naughty sort of way. I was baring myself and I was baring her. She’d opened herself over the past couple of days and now I was doing the same.
“I’ve never owned a submissive. Played, yes. A lot.” I looked up and winked. “Skills, baby. I got skills.” She giggled at my words and I flicked her nipple, wanting a moan, too. I got one. “But I hadn’t found a woman I wanted to own. The way you looked at him, though? I knew I wanted that look aimed at me.”
I tasted her breast, first one, the underside, then the other, the nipple. She had her own musk as all women did and
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