instantaneous. His kiss, so unexpected, quiets and calms me, especially as my mouth instinctively opens under his and his tongue slides inside, exploring, tasting, claiming. One hand remaining on my face to hold me in position, he deepens the kiss, at the same time as his other hand slides down my body, across my breasts then farther, to tease the softly curling, neatly trimmed hair between my legs. He trails his hand through that, and between the slick folds. I arch, open my legs to let him in, and he accepts my invitation, plunging one finger deep inside me. Then, and only then, does he lift his head, breaking the kiss but remaining close—I can feel his breath on my face.
My body is moistening, his finger gently sliding in and out, my juices starting to flow in earnest now.
“I’m thinking you like this, little sub. Is that right?”
I nod then drop my head back as he continues to stroke me, adding a second finger to stretch me a little farther.
“Do you want me to stop?” His fingers go still, deep inside me but not moving now.
I shake my head, use my inner muscles to squeeze around him. Desperate, I want him to move, to stroke me, to give me the friction I suddenly require more than oxygen.
“Ah, that feels so good. And when you squeeze around me like that, whether it’s my fingers inside you like now, or my cock later, that’s another signal. That’s you telling me, ‘this is good, I like this, I want more of this’. Yeah? Does that make sense?”
I dip my head in understanding, but he hasn’t finished yet.
“Can you make this sound?” He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, the sort of sound you might use for calling a dog over.
I nod, of course I can make that sound.
“Do it, let me hear it.”
I click for him, and he drops another light kiss onto my mouth. “Not quite without vocal sounds then. That’s your safe signal for this, while your hands are tied. If you need me to stop, or slow down, you click like that. I’ll hear you, and I’ll stop, check with you what you need, what you want to have happen. And if you want to stop, we will. So, are you okay still?”
I can manage a hearty whistle, but I never before considered clicking my tongue as a way of signaling. As I bow my head again, I admire his ingenuity. I’m not sure if he’s making it up as he goes along or if he pre-planned all this, but it seems this inventive Dom has an answer for everything, a way of dealing with all my issues and problems. Angela was spot on in her recommendation. He was the right Dom to ask to train me. He could help me, he already has.
He takes my face between his palms. “I told you, upstairs, that I’d never lay a hand on you unless you had your safe words ready.” His voice is low, sexy, sensual. And very firm as he continues. “You’ll always be able to take back control whenever you want to. But submission, real submission, is when you choose not to, when you let your Dom have the power, and keep it, when you let your Dom do whatever he wants to with you, with your body, because that’s the way you want it. Because it arouses you, excites you, fulfils you, because you want to please your Dom, and you trust him to always take care of you.”
He stops, as though waiting for me to take that in, to assimilate this new thinking, re-align my beliefs and attitudes, my assumptions and pre-conceptions. Then, presumably when he thinks I’ve had enough time to get my head around it, he continues, “So, ready to play?”
I nod once more and wait. Nicholas steps away, and I’m lost without his close presence, bereft almost. I can hear his voice, low, nearby, and someone else answering. Frank? Then Nicholas is back, his hands on me once more, molding and squeezing my breasts. I let my head drop backwards, enjoying the sensation, even as he increases the pressure, lifting and squeezing, pressing my breasts together, running his thumbs across my nipples. My breathing hitches. I’m gasping,
My body is moistening, his finger gently sliding in and out, my juices starting to flow in earnest now.
“I’m thinking you like this, little sub. Is that right?”
I nod then drop my head back as he continues to stroke me, adding a second finger to stretch me a little farther.
“Do you want me to stop?” His fingers go still, deep inside me but not moving now.
I shake my head, use my inner muscles to squeeze around him. Desperate, I want him to move, to stroke me, to give me the friction I suddenly require more than oxygen.
“Ah, that feels so good. And when you squeeze around me like that, whether it’s my fingers inside you like now, or my cock later, that’s another signal. That’s you telling me, ‘this is good, I like this, I want more of this’. Yeah? Does that make sense?”
I dip my head in understanding, but he hasn’t finished yet.
“Can you make this sound?” He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, the sort of sound you might use for calling a dog over.
I nod, of course I can make that sound.
“Do it, let me hear it.”
I click for him, and he drops another light kiss onto my mouth. “Not quite without vocal sounds then. That’s your safe signal for this, while your hands are tied. If you need me to stop, or slow down, you click like that. I’ll hear you, and I’ll stop, check with you what you need, what you want to have happen. And if you want to stop, we will. So, are you okay still?”
I can manage a hearty whistle, but I never before considered clicking my tongue as a way of signaling. As I bow my head again, I admire his ingenuity. I’m not sure if he’s making it up as he goes along or if he pre-planned all this, but it seems this inventive Dom has an answer for everything, a way of dealing with all my issues and problems. Angela was spot on in her recommendation. He was the right Dom to ask to train me. He could help me, he already has.
He takes my face between his palms. “I told you, upstairs, that I’d never lay a hand on you unless you had your safe words ready.” His voice is low, sexy, sensual. And very firm as he continues. “You’ll always be able to take back control whenever you want to. But submission, real submission, is when you choose not to, when you let your Dom have the power, and keep it, when you let your Dom do whatever he wants to with you, with your body, because that’s the way you want it. Because it arouses you, excites you, fulfils you, because you want to please your Dom, and you trust him to always take care of you.”
He stops, as though waiting for me to take that in, to assimilate this new thinking, re-align my beliefs and attitudes, my assumptions and pre-conceptions. Then, presumably when he thinks I’ve had enough time to get my head around it, he continues, “So, ready to play?”
I nod once more and wait. Nicholas steps away, and I’m lost without his close presence, bereft almost. I can hear his voice, low, nearby, and someone else answering. Frank? Then Nicholas is back, his hands on me once more, molding and squeezing my breasts. I let my head drop backwards, enjoying the sensation, even as he increases the pressure, lifting and squeezing, pressing my breasts together, running his thumbs across my nipples. My breathing hitches. I’m gasping,
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