A bottle of red wine was already breathing beside two glasses. I watched his back, in a black shirt, but without the jacket, for a long second before my eyes scanned around, finding a small black marble dining table and a black leather tufted couch in the living room across from a TV that was as wide as one of my walls at home.
Simple, though.
There were no knickknacks, no pictures, no art on the walls. Everything was streamlined and masculine.
"You have to remember to breathe, Adley," he told me as he pressed a glass into my hands.
I hadn't even been aware I was holding my breath.
I took a deep one as I raised the glass, unashamedly downing half the wine in one long sip, deciding that settled nerves were more important than my good manners right about then.
"You're only getting one though, pet," he told me, sipping his own. "I want you sober tonight."
I nodded my agreement, taking another - smaller - sip. "Your apartment is really nice."
"What? You're not going to tell me I need throw pillows and some overpriced artwork that looks like a three-year-old did it?"
"Well, that couch doesn't look all that comfortable," I told him with a smile. "I think some throw pillows might help that. And a blanket."
"A blanket?" he asked with a twitch in his lips, and I had to admit that the idea of him snuggled up on the couch with a blanket was pretty funny.
"Okay, maybe not a blanket. Big, strong guys don't need blankets. They go out and slaughter animals, then sleep in their skins."
"Yeah, that," he agreed, this time his lips actually curving up. "Or we turn up the thermostat."
I made some kind of noncommittal sound as I ran my hand across his pristine counters, wondering how this was going to go from this point on, when I was supposed to stop being me, the normal woman, and turn into me, the submissive. Whoever she was.
I heard the clink of glass as DOM set his wine down. A second later, I felt his fingers close around mine, sliding the stem from between my fingers, and moving to put it down next to his own.
His body shifted, pressing into mine until I had no choice but to turn to face him, my back against the counter preventing retreat.
My gaze went up, but found his downward, looking down at my body. I felt my stomach do a swirl, something I could only name as anticipation.
Not a second later, his hand moved out, fingers touching the hem of my dress, the small, chaste contact making goosebumps prickle across my skin, something DOM seemed to notice. His gaze shifted upward to watch my face as his fingers slid under the skirt, lifting it up an inch or two.
My breath sighed out of my mouth, drawing his attention there, making me wonder if he was going to kiss me.
But then his head ducked, lips landing beside the pulse point in my neck, tongue moving out to trace it, sending a hard shiver through my body.
A low rumble moved through him, vibrated into me, as his fingers grabbed the skirt and yanked it up hard and high, exposing me up to my hips, my simple black lace panties on display.
His mouth shifted, tracing the line of my throat downward before I lost the contact entirely. He shifted backward, putting space between us, allowing his eyes to move over me, raking up my exposed thighs, the little swatch of fabric keeping me from view.
"Arms up, pet," he demanded, voice somehow soft and firm at the same time.
When my hands didn't immediately move to comply, his gaze lifted, brow raising.
And I realized this was it.
Prepared or not, it was time for things to move forward between us.
I took a breath and slowly started to raise my arms.
"What do you say, Adley?" he asked, voice a little clipped.
"Yes, sir," I whispered out, the words barely audible, but somehow not as awkward as I had expected they would be as my arms went up over my head.
His hands moved out to my hips, giving a small, reassuring squeeze before he grabbed the material and started dragging it upward.
The slide of my dress felt rough and foreign on my suddenly heated and sensitive skin as it moved over my belly, crushed down over my breasts, then slid up my arms before getting discarded to the floor at my side, leaving me just in the black panties and matching bra.
Instinctively, my hands went to fall down, but DOM's voice stopped them before they were anywhere near my sides. "I didn't say you could put your arms down. Keep them up," he demanded, making them shoot back up in the air. I clasped my hands together, feeling a bit awkward, and very much exposed, vulnerable. But not enough to make me want to stop.
Anticipation was a skittering feeling in my belly, both good and bad at the same time, confusing my system that seemed to react by making every part of me more hyper-aware of things than usual.
Like his scent.
I had sat next to him the night before, had buried my face in his neck, and I hadn't been as aware of it as I was right now, something a mix of spicy and citrus I had never come across before but found myself taking deeper breaths to get more of.
And his eyes.
I guess I had been a bit awkward about eye-contact at the restaurant, just calling them brown and moving on. But up this close, they weren't just brown. Sure, the dominant color was a deep, rich chocolate brown, but there were flecks of gold and yellow around the pupils, like little explosions of light in the darkness.
His size, too.
Sure, I knew he was tall and strong before. But with him looming over me, I actually felt small in comparison, something entirely new to me.
His fingers slithered up my hip, the dip of my waist, the side of my breast. Another shiver moved through me, making a quiet rumbling noise move through him again as his hands slid across the band of my bra toward the clasps in the center of my back, pulling both sides closer together with one hand, then releasing them. The material gave, straps falling down my arms, the cups loosening, but not falling.
DOM's hand moved back, snagging the center where the underwire moved between my breasts, and peeling the material upward, exposing my breasts to the somewhat cool air of his apartment. Though whether my nipples were tightened from the cold, from arousal, or from a dose of fear was anyone's guess.
"Unclasp your hands," he commanded, though I had no idea how he even knew they were clasped since his gaze had been down. My fingers released each other, the slightest bit clammy, and I wanted to wipe them off, but even if I could lower my arms, there was nowhere to rub them. The bra slid up my arms and off my hands, falling to drop on top of my discarded dress.
His hand snagged my wrist for a short second, giving it another of his - what I interpreted as - reassuring squeezes, before releasing and letting his fingers slide down my forearm, the oddly sensitive crook of my elbow, then down the usually untouched skin of my upper arm, only sliding across at my clavicle, tracing it to the center of my chest, then going down between my breasts, making my nipples twist tighter.
Seeing it seemed to do something to him, seemed to release a bit of his control.
One of his hands shot back up, so fast that the motion blurred before my eyes, snagging my wrists of my once again clasped hands, sinking in hard. His other hand went to my hip.
Then both hands twisted and pushed, spinning my body away from his, moving me over a foot to the beam of the island, then slamming my hands up onto it as his front pressed into my back, making me aware for the first time that he was as into this as I was realizing I was, his cock - as big as he promised - pressed into my ass that was only maybe a third contained by my panties.
The hand at my hip released while the one at my wrists tightened, held them flush against the beam. His free hand slid across my hip to the center of my lower back where his fingers snaked under the material of my panties, and slowly started dragging it down over the cheeks of my ass, doing so achingly slowly, fingers brushing over the skin until the material loosened and slipped down my thighs and legs to pool at my feet. Not being told to do so, I did not step out of them.
> DOM's finger traced the underside of my ass, making me draw in a shaky breath just a second before his seeking hand cupped me between my legs, covering my slick heat with his palm, letting out a growling noise that was drowned out almost immediately by my surprised moan, my body bucking hard backward, my hands yanking away from his, making his hand slam them back into place, holding them tighter.
My forehead met the beam with a whimper as my hips moved side to side, trying to get his touch to give me what I needed so badly.
"Greedy pussy," he rumbled close to my ear as his finger moved to slide between my lips, hinting at toying with my clit, but not quite delivering. "You haven't been touching it without my permission, have you?"
I had to swallow hard before I could find my voice again. "No, sir," my voice sighed out of me.
"Good girl," he praised as his thumb slid across my clit, making me whimper loudly, fingers curling hard into fists, tight enough to leave little crescent shapes in my palms. "Because this is my pussy now," he went on, sliding his finger back down between my lips, pressing against the entrance of my body without sliding inside. "I decide who gets to touch it and when. Understood?" he asked, thrusting his finger inside me, my walls immediately tightening around him, trying to hold on, trying to demand more. "Understood?" he asked again, voice sharper.
"Yes, sir," I choked out, rocking my hips against him, not even caring about consequences anymore, just needing an end to the clawing feeling inside.
But he wasn't in the mood to placate me - at least not yet.
His finger slid out of me as suddenly as it pressed inside. "Turn around."
I took a breath, keeping my arms up even after his hand released my wrists, turning to face him.
"I knew this skin would get pink when you're turned on," he commented, mostly to himself as his hand slid across my chest. "Just imagine how red it's going to get when I get my hands on it," he said, a promise in his voice that sent a swirling through my belly that wasn't uncertainty, but rather... excitement. "And these," he said, cupping my breasts for a second before letting them go to snag my nipples.
I should have seen it coming from what he had made me do to myself all those phone calls ago.
But I somehow didn't expect it when his fingers clamped and tightened, tightened, tightened. Until my nipples felt hot, like they were being pierced, like red hot pokers of pain that made me yelp and yank away.
"Sh," he commanded, gaze lifting off my breasts to watch my face, to - I imagined - gauge my level of duress. His fingers loosened, but the relief was hardly longer than a blink before they tightened again, harder, then harder still until the pain was no longer the good kind, the kind that made my belly tense, but my sex clench.
My arms dropped, hands grabbing his as my brain and mouth got together and stopped it. "Yellow."
"Okay," DOM said, nodding, fingers loosening immediately. The blood rushed back to the peaks, creating a throbbing that was somehow almost as painful as the twisting itself. "But I didn't tell you to drop your arms."
There was something there in his voice that said Don't bother to try to remedy the situation, so I let my hands drop to my sides, waiting to see if there was going to be punishment for my mistake.
And as I waited, I wondered if I would endure it... or enjoy it.
"Turn around," he instructed, moving a step back to give me the space. Stomach tight, I spun in my heels, realizing for the first time just then that he hadn't made me take them off. As soon as my back was turned, he tapped my hip, making me move away from the beam and back toward the counter. His hand slid up my spine until it planted between my shoulder blades. The pressure increased until I had no choice but to lower forward. "No," he said when my hands went out to brace on the counter. "Hands behind your back. Grasp your hands right above this perfect ass of yours."
My hands moved to do as instructed as he kept putting pressure until my nipples touched the cold marble, then my breasts flattened to it, until, finally, my whole upper body was resting on it, leaving my ass high in the air.
Where he wanted it.
I couldn't even get the word to formulate in my mind before it happened.
His hand pulled back, whooshed through the air, and slapped down on my ass cheek, making a cracking noise echo through the open apartment, sounding way too loud, like anyone in the building might know exactly what was happening here.
I was being spanked.
Spanked.
And as the sharp initial strike faded to an odd, hot feeling to my skin, there was no denying it anymore, no fighting it.
Because as soon as my body registered the pain, the need only grew stronger, became another beast entirely, making my sex clench and my pulse quicken, wanting more, not knowing if I would be given it.
His hand squeezed the cheek, releasing it with a sound that I could only call approval just a second before another whack landed almost in the same spot, making it sharper, hotter, making me wonder if the skin was going to raise, if he was going to make good on that promise to make it so I would feel his touch there for a whole day after.
Another whack, this time the pain edging further away from pleasure, and much closer to pain.
He said nothing.
He gave no instructions.
I wasn't even sure where his hands were until they landed again.
"Yellow," I choked out, feeling sure that the skin was already swollen even before the strike landed in the same spot again.
"Okay," he agreed, running a fingertip over the marks he was leaving, doing so almost reverently. "Breathe," he reminded me, making me take in a shuddering breath that burned my lungs, but also made the tension leave my back and shoulders, allowing me to settle back against the counter fully.
And then his hand slapped down on the other cheek. Once. Twice. Three times. A fourth, but stopping there, knowing the fifth was where I tapped out the time before.
His words came floating back to me as his fingers explored the dips and curves of my hips and ass. About how this first meeting wasn't about fucking, how it was about exploring my interests and limits.
That was what he was doing.
With my nipples, with the spanking.
He was seeing what levels of pain gave me what I needed, and which pushed me too far.
And he was likely cataloging this for later, for when things got more intense, when toys came into play, when sex was an inevitability.
It was that realization that changed everything for me right in that moment.
Because he was doing what he said he would do. He was giving me a proper introduction. He was easing me into it. He was teaching me that I could trust him enough to give him my submission.
And if a Dom was willing to give you all of that, then he was one you wanted to experience all of this with.
He was the one.
Almost as if sensing the shift inside me, his hand shifted, finger tracing down my slit again.
"This is mine," he told me, and everything within me was in whole-hearted agreement.
"Yes, sir."
"Say it."
"It's yours."
"No," he said immediately. "Say it. Tell me your pussy is mine now."
My eyes squeezed shut, the verbal part always seeming the biggest struggle for me. "My pussy is yours now."
There was a sound that met my words, something low and grumbly that I didn't take a moment to ponder because suddenly, two fingers were thrust inside me, and DOM wasn't on his feet teasing me.
He was down on his knees between my legs, and his mouth was feasting on me.
Feasting.
That was the only word that felt right.
Devouring.
His fingers were still inside me, but unmoving, as his tongue worked merciless circles around my clit, driving me up hard and fast until my whimpers became moans that bounced off the walls in his apartment.
It never occurred to me that the fingers were there for a reason, with a purpose.
Until I felt
my walls tighten hard, preparing for the release I had been dying for for months.
And he felt it too.
Then just as suddenly as it started, his mouth was no longer on me. "Don't fucking come, Adley," he demanded, fingers still inside me, still just an invading presence, still just making sure I obeyed the order.
My hands clamped harder together as my body screamed with frustration.
"Please," I begged, not knowing the protocol for begging, and, quite frankly, not even caring anymore at this point.
"Please, what?"
"Please, sir," I choked out, feeling so overwrought that I actually felt tears threatening.
"No, pet, please... what?"
"Please let me come."
It was there in my voice. Even I heard it this time.
And if I heard it, with how attuned he was to me, I knew he heard it as well.
The emotion that matched the wetness I was blinking away hard, not wanting to be that girl, to be freaking emotional about not getting to have an orgasm.
DOM's fingers pulled out of me, his hand closing around my arm, pulling me up, and turning me so fast that I stumbled on my feet.
My head ducked, in full self-preservation mode, not wanting him to think I couldn't handle the dominating aspect.
But I guess I knew he wasn't going to stand for that.
His fingers snagged my chin, turning my face up.
"Look at me."
I took a shaky breath, letting my eyes open, knowing this part wouldn't be over until I did.
Seeing the water gathered there that I was too damn stubborn to let fall, his face softened a little, his hold loosened but didn't drop.
"Come on," he said, pulling me with him past the small dining table and into the living room. "Kick out of those things," he added, gripping me tighter when I stumbled to get out of the heels. He moved to sit on the couch, pulling me until I followed his instructions to straddle him.
My ass dropped down on his thighs, feeling the material scratch over the sensitive cheeks of my ass, making me all-too-aware that I would absolutely be feeling him there anytime I sat down, or my clothes brushed against the sensitive flesh.
Don't Come Page 7