His seductive voice traveled straight to my center, so it took me a minute to marshal my thoughts. I wanted to please him, and I admit it sounded like a fun, sexy-naughty thing to do. The skirt of my dress was loose enough that no one would see unless I spread my legs—not something I tended to do while wearing a dress. Taking a deep breath, I nodded.
“Good girl. You’re my good girl. Go do it now. You have five minutes.”
What? My surprise made Justin’s lips curve into a wicked grin. Was it wrong that his response turned me on? Shakily, I got to my feet, but when I reached for my purse, he put his hand over my wrist and shook his head. “No purse.”
Damn. That meant I’d have to scrunch the panties up and carry them back in my hand. I looked at the ten or so tables between me and the women’s room. Then I looked into the eyes of the man I loved. Eyes that were currently filled with lust. Justin was clearly enjoying this. And you know what? I kind of was, too. It felt risky, it felt new, but it certainly felt sexy. I felt sexy.
So I headed to the restroom to carry out my orders. And for the rest of the evening, I couldn’t concentrate on the food, not even the sinfully delicious tiramisu. All I could think was of the things I wanted to do to Justin when I got home—and the things I hoped he would do to me.
* * *
In between our bouts of increasingly daring BDSM, everything was great between us. We were getting together more times a week than before. When we spoke on the phone, we were more open, more honest. Justin seemed less guarded now. As if he didn’t have to keep part of himself hidden from me.
Our communication, our love, was stronger than ever. But we both wanted to explore more kinky things, and we did. One Friday night, Justin asked me to bring dinner over to his place, which was only fair. We always went to his condo, since it was so much bigger and nicer than mine, so he usually provided dinner. It was definitely my turn.
I took a few hours off work that afternoon to prepare a top-notch meal. I made all of Justin’s favorites, roast beef, mashed potatoes, and pecan pie, in addition to creating a salad. As for myself, I exfoliated, shaved, and moisturized.
I’d even purchased a sexy new bra and panty set from the raunchier lingerie shop at the mall. The small ensemble was made of see-through black lace, and it concealed very little. The flimsy bra cups were held together in the front with a thin string tied in a bow that could be easily flicked aside, leaving my nipples bare.
The panties consisted of narrow triangles in the front and the back. And there was a long slit in the middle making them essentially crotchless. I hoped that Justin would enjoy discovering that. Even once the lingerie was covered up by my silky lilac blouse and black slacks, I felt sexy knowing I was wearing it underneath.
To my surprise, Justin was in his dominant mode the moment he greeted me at his door. He was still courteous, asking about my day, thanking me for preparing the meal. But there was no doubt he was in charge of the situation. His firm, commanding voice told me what to do, where to unpack things, what to do next, and so on. It felt strange to be following his orders somewhere other than his bedroom. But I had to admit it got me going. Every cell in my body was on high alert, waiting for what he’d do, what he’d say, what he’d touch.
And touch me he did, all over, through my thin blouse and slacks. It was intoxicating, not knowing what he’d stroke, squeeze, or pinch next, but it also made it hard to heat up and set out the dinner.
Once I made the mistake of twisting out of his grasp when he squeezed my ass while I was transferring salad from one bowl to another. That turned out to be a no-no in his current mood. He moved in behind me, grasping me firmly by my upper arms, pressed me back against his body. “Special rule for tonight,” he began in a deceptively silky voice that traveled into my head and then straight down my body to my center.
“Whenever I touch you, every time, no matter what you’re doing, you will freeze. Hold completely still and close your eyes. And then just concentrate on my touch, my voice, my scent. When my hands are on you, you are mine. Body, mind, and spirit. Nothing else exists even if the roast catches on fire and the place burns down around us. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathed, my eyes already closed, my entire being concentrating on the heat from the wall of muscle behind me. I was rewarded a moment later when he moved even closer, letting the hardness of his erection press against my ass. I wanted to push back against him, but I was learning. He’d given me my orders and they were to stay still, close my eyes, and focus on him. So that’s what I was doing.
It was much more difficult to prepare dinner after that. Justin leaned against a counter, watching my every move. In a way, it was a new experience for me. Even after all this time together, it was unusual to have him watch me that intently, like a predator keeping tabs on its prey, assessing and planning. And while my mind might have been a tad uneasy with his scrutiny, my body was not. My nipples hardened, pressing through the thin bra and my silk shirt. And I could feel the tingling and wetness grow between my legs. Combined, these feelings made me walk more purposefully, with more of a wiggle, and perhaps even an invitation in my movements.
And Justin took advantage of that. He came up behind me while I was slicing bread. I went still, the serrated knife halfway through the loaf while he reached in front of me, lifting my breasts and tweaking my nipples. When I bent over to get some potholders out of a low cabinet, he pressed his hard bulge against my ass. I froze, one hand braced on the counter, as he ground himself against, me making me moan. Hopefully that was allowed.
When dinner was ready, Justin took a seat, his eyes lit up at seeing so many of his favorites. But he stopped me before I could sit. “Unbutton your blouse, Lily. Take it off, fold it up, and hand it to me.”
With trembling fingers, I did so. I was excited but also a bit apprehensive. Our play during the dinner at the restaurant had been limited by our public setting. Here it wouldn’t be.
“Very nice,” Justin said as he took in my new lingerie. “Thank you for wearing that for me.”
“You’re welcome, Sir,” I said, handing him my blouse.
After that, we had a fairly regular dinner, talking about work and normal things. Before too much time had passed, I even forgot that I was clad only in a black mesh bra that left little to the imagination. Or, at least I mostly forgot.
The meat was delicious, and I was grateful for that. Normally I was a good cook, but lately my mind had been focused on naughtier things. It certainly had when I’d prepared the meal while wearing my sexy new bra and panties under my clothes.
“Go get me some more wine.”
His words were a command, and I knew that the tame portion of our evening was over. Feeling a little self-conscious to be fetching things for him, I hurried into the kitchen. And if I was honest, self-consciousness wasn’t the only thing I felt. As always, it was also a turn on to follow his orders.
Back at the table, I filled his wine glass and waited patiently at his side, trying to seem attentive and submissive like he clearly wanted me to be.
“Good. Now take off your pants.”
I bent to do as he asked, steadying myself with one hand on the table. Straightening up, I folded the pants neatly and handed them over. He put them next to his plate alongside my blouse. It half reminded me of someone pushing away their empty salad bowl or bread plate. He had no more use for those items of clothing, so he’d set them aside.
Justin turned back to me and looked me up and down, making my pulse quicken. I felt so sexy wearing this fancy lingerie for him, but it always made me squirm when he examined me like this—especially when it was in a well-lit room instead of a dark bedroom.
“Hands behind your back.”
I obeyed immediately. Even though I’d only known his dominant side for a little while, it was starting to feel more natural to me to follow his orders. Not easy, exactly, but natural.
“Good girl,” Justin said. He reached up and traced his long index finger over my lef
t breast, rubbing past my nipple as he did so. I moaned quietly in the back of my throat.
With a quick flick of his finger, he undid the simple black bow that held the bra cup together, and then my rosy nipple was freed, pointing eagerly at him. He did the same with the other side.
Still seated, Justin grasped both of my nipples, squeezing them softly, tweaking them. Then his strong fingers closed around my nubs with a tight pinch. He gave a quick downward tug, and I gasped.
“Kneel.”
He let go of my nipples as I complied, lowering myself a little awkwardly because I was trembling, wondering what he would do next. Okay, eager to know what he would do next, I could admit to myself. It was funny how I could feel eager, anxious, turned on, and a little scared all at the same time. I was starting to regard that mixture of emotions as a signature part of being submissive.
As I settled on the floor with my ass on the backs of my heels, Justin turned in his chair to face me. “Knees spread, back arched, chest out, head up.”
Hastening to comply, I made my posture as upright as I could.
“Knees farther apart. And rest your hands on the tops of your thighs.” He nodded with approval when I had done so. “Good. This is a common submissive pose, one you’ll need to remember.”
He stood up. “Was that pecan pie I saw before?”
“Yes, Sir.” I saw a flash of a grin cross his face. Unless I was very much mistaken, that quick smile was far more about the pie than about the half-naked woman at his feet. That pleased me. In some regards, Justin would never change, and I didn’t want him to. He loved pecan pie.
He left and I held my pose, listening to track his progress around the kitchen. As the sound of cabinets and drawers being opened reached my ears, I sneaked a quick peek down my front. The sheer black bra no longer covered my nipples, but it still lifted and cupped my breasts in a way that looked pretty to my eyes. I hoped that Justin thought so as well.
Justin returned with two pieces of pie with whip cream on top. He went back to the kitchen and emerged with two cups of coffee. I wondered if I was supposed to return to the table, but I remained motionless. I was learning.
Sitting down, Justin scooted his chair around so he was facing me again. Leaning toward me, he said, “Thank you for making my favorite dessert, babe. And for being such a good sub in that pose.”
I smiled up at him. He winked and then scooped up some pie on a fork. Placing it in his mouth, he sighed contentedly. I hungrily watched him eat one bite then another, feeling a little like a dog begging for table scraps.
It seemed that Justin was thinking along the same lines. “Would my pet like some pie?”
Pet? That was new. But all I said was, “Yes, Sir.”
Justin must have caught some kind of strange expression on my face because he smirked. “Some subs like to be treated like their master’s pets. Staying on their knees. Being fed. Being collared. Existing only to please him. Who knows, maybe you might like it,” he said, but I could tell he was teasing.
Nevertheless, the next bite was for me. He moved it carefully to my lips, and I accepted the mouthful of gooey pecan goodness. Wow, it was really tasty. I decided I would make it for him more often.
He fed me a few more bites. One had whipped cream on it, and when he pushed the fork gently into my mouth, a touch of the cream rubbed off on my nose.
Automatically, I raised my hand to wipe it off, but Justin ordered me to stop. “Leave it. I haven’t told you to move from your position.”
I gulped. I wasn’t even allowed to wipe my face? Having the little dollop of whipped cream there made me feel more like a pet than ever, like a dog with a treat balanced on its nose, waiting to be given permission to eat it.
For the first time since I’d started playing this way with Justin, I felt like less than a person. Like a pet, or maybe a sex object rather than a person with feelings. I suspected that this kind of BDSM activity fell under the category of humiliation. And I can’t say that I wasn’t turned on, because I was. I could feel the moisture building, trapped only by my thin panties. But it was still a little uncomfortable—mentally and physically—to be kneeling at his side like this. I didn’t hate it, but I wasn’t entirely sure I liked it.
Together, we finished the piece of pie, Justin feeding some to me and eating the rest himself. When we were done, I still had a dab of whip cream on my nose, and my mouth felt sticky. But I held my pose. This did not go unnoticed.
“Good girl. Would you like me to clean up that whipped cream for you?”
I nodded, then remembered the proper response. “Yes, Sir.”
He leaned his upper body forward, his hand dropping down between us. I closed my eyes when I saw his lips descending toward mine. But instead of his mouth on mine, I felt him lick the cream off my nose at the exact same time his hands closed around my nipples. The combination of the pinching and the stroke of his tongue made me shriek in surprise, my eyes flying open.
“Oh, sorry,” Justin said, his tone commanding yet facetious. “Did you want that last bit of cream? No problem… I can get you a refill.”
Having an idea of what was coming next, I smiled as Justin went into the kitchen. He returned with the cold can of whipped cream. Setting it on the table, he moved his chair and stood in front of me, dropping his pants as he did so. The moment his hard cock sprang free, I moaned in anticipation. Seeing it at eye level in the well-lit room, I realized how much I wanted to taste his hard, swollen length. How much I needed it inside me.
Chuckling at my hungry expression, Justin pressed down on the nozzle of the bottle and laid a row of white, fluffy goodness on top of his rock-hard cock. I licked my lips, staring at the delicious sight in front of me.
At Justin’s low laugh, I raised my eyes to see him smirking down at me. “Lick it off, babe. All of it.”
With pleasure. I leaned forward, one hand resting on his thigh, the other reaching for his hard length, but he took a step back. “Hands behind your back. Just your mouth, your tongue. And you can’t take my cock inside your mouth until you’ve licked it clean.”
That made it a more difficult but still enticing challenge. Folding my arms behind me, I leaned forward, tilting my head. The first timid laps with my tongue made whipped cream smear across my nose, my lips, and my cheeks. And I thought I’d been messy before! But it was fun. Like bobbing for apples as I chased his firm cock with my tongue and my lips. He tasted better than my pecan pie, and that was saying something.
After much leaning, twisting, and stretching, I got it all. I sat back on my heels, looking up at him, satisfied that I’d done as he’d ordered and more than ready to draw him inside my warm mouth.
“Did you get it all? Open your mouth and show me.”
I did, feeling a little silly.
“Stick out your tongue. Farther. Good. Stay that way.”
Now I felt even more ridiculous, but the throbbing between my legs begged to differ. I felt wanton, with my tongue sticking out, waiting for his cock. Justin must’ve seen the conflict in my eyes, because he started speaking in a low, firm, and absolutely filthy voice. “You like that, don’t you, babe. Waiting for me to shove my cock down your throat. You know what you look like, kneeling there? With your tits hanging out and your legs spread? You look like a slut. A hungry slut who craves her master’s cock. Is that what you are? A horny, hungry slut?”
Shocked, I almost closed my mouth. I never would have guessed that Justin could speak this way to me. Yet… there was no doubt it was effective. My hips were grinding in little circles and I was panting. My body was responding to his words, his tone. But my brain was slower to get on board.
Seeming to sense that he may have gone too far, Justin put his hand on my head, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “You look beautiful like that, Lily. I love that you get so hot and bothered for me. I get the same way for you,” he said, flexing his very engorged evidence of that.
“Are you ready to please me?” he asked.
; I nodded, and opened my mouth wider in invitation. He pushed his way inside, and I went to work, swirling my tongue, hollowing my cheeks, bobbing up and down on his length. He still tasted faintly of whipped cream.
He groaned and squeezed handfuls of my hair as I moved my head back and forth, using my mouth to show him how turned on I was. I sped up when he pressed on the back of my head, pulling me toward him, making me take him deeper. He usually didn’t do this during oral sex, preferring to let me set my own pace.
By the end, he was doing what he’d said before, shoving himself down my throat. And I could take it, he’d taught me how, but it was more forceful than I was used to. I gagged a few times, and when that happened, he slowed for a few moments. But when I felt he was close, I eagerly took him as deep as I could, letting him empty himself down my throat. It felt good to make him growl that loud, to hear him cursing as he came, to know that I made him feel that way.
And it felt good a few seconds later when he reached down, picked me up, and carried me to the bedroom. He let me drop on top of the bed, where I landed, breathless, with a soft thump. But after that he was all gentleness. He kissed and caressed every inch of my body as if I was a priceless treasure to worship. He stroked my hair, my arms, my back. And when he entered me, it could only be described as making love, not taking or riding or screwing.
Such tender, loving ministrations contrasted so sharply with the other, rougher treatment that it sent my mind into a tailspin, finally shutting it up. I came hard, crying Justin’s name, hearing him tell me he loved me.
Afterward, when I was contentedly nestled in his arms, he conducted his usual aftercare assessment, asking me how I felt now, and if there was anything I’d especially liked or didn’t like.
“I don’t know,” I said softly, enjoying the scent of his powerfully built chest under my cheek.
“C’mon, Lily. You know how important communication is for this kind of thing. Tell me one thing you thought while we were playing.”
Wild Rush: A Bad Boy Romance Page 8