An adult stories – Fifth Position by PeachesAnd_Cream,PeachesAnd_Cream A/N: I’m surprised I need to say this, but this won’t make sense unless you read the previous four parts first! Also, this is kind of a slow burn if you want to get to the good stuff, so you’ll need a bit of patience.
For a while, everything hurts. I avoid class for a couple of weeks, delaying the inevitable. When I do return my poise is non-existent, and my body feels like lead. I know she won’t be there, but her absence still cuts deeper than I could’ve imagined.
The burn in my chest hurts worse than any criticism the Master throws my way in the following few lessons.
“Assemblé… Mia! I said Assemblé!”
“Andouille. It took you long enough….”
The other dancers whisper amongst themselves. I don’t bother to listen.
With time the weight begins to lift. The pain is more of a dull ache, and I can dance again. My body is more in tune with itself than ever, and after weeks of criticism I’m no longer afraid of failing. When I step into the studio, the rest of the world falls away as the music swells and flows through me. I barely hear the Master’s praise. I’m no longer dancing for anyone else – this is just for me.
I’d forgotten all about the number she left for me.
Uncovering it brings back our last moments together in all their searing glory. I resist the urge to press the paper to my nose and inhale any of her lingering scent, then throw it back where I found it and try to steady my breathing.
I try to ignore the persistent curiosity about why she would leave it for me. Or more specifically, who might answer if I were to call. One morning, before I can overthink it, I dial the number with trembling fingers.
A male voice answers. Of course it’s not her. Then sadness is replaced by shame when the man introduces himself as a therapist. A therapist. Like I’m some kind of broken doll, and this is her way of easing her guilt now she’s done playing with me.
I try to make my excuses, battling against my need to be polite. “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. A friend gave me this number, but-.”
His tone is more gentle the next time he speaks. “Mia? I’ve been expecting you. Natasha said you might call. She-”
“It doesn’t matter what she told you, because I still can’t afford this.”
“There’s no charge – this is a favour for a friend.”
“I don’t care-”
He cuts me off firmly this time. “One conversation. If you want to walk away at the end of it then that’s ok. I’ve been keeping some time free for you. Do you have a pen to hand?”
After, as I wrestle with the mess of emotions, I first curse my inability to say no. Then I try to feel furious about how patronising it is to decide a therapist was necessary without even speaking to me first… Finally, I accept that attending is inevitable, because I’d do anything if it meant feeling any kind of connection to Natasha again.
In a turn of events that isn’t at all surprising in hindsight, it doesn’t end up being one conversation. Weeks turn into months, and therapy is more painful, cathartic and worthwhile than I could have possibly imagined.
My therapist is bearded and handsome, a couple of decades older than I am. After a few sessions I also recognise him as a dominant. I’m ashamed to say that at one point I end up convincing myself that I’m in love with him. At the end of a session, I bite the bullet and ask him if he’d further my education by taking me on as his submissive.
After the longest, most awkward pause known to man, he clears his throat and looks at me with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.
“Have you learned nothing about boundaries in these sessions, Mia? I thought we were making progress?”
Looking at literally anywhere but him, I bite my lip and begin gathering my things. I usually appreciate his humour, but, today, it makes the humiliation burn worse. He can read me like a book, however, and changes his approach.
“Mia, we need to address this appropriately. Now please, sit down.”
I can’t ignore the authority in his tone, so I slump back down opposite him. I want to resent him; but, deep down, I appreciate that he won’t let me avoid things.
“I was very clear on my role as your therapist, was I not?” His tone is gentle, with just a hint of his usual humour.
“Yes, I understand… I understand how it would be completely inappropriate and unethical. But, as you hadn’t been charging me, I thought maybe what you got out of this was…”
When I sneak a look at him, his face is a mixture of horror and exasperation. I’ve never seen him flustered, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed I’d probably have found it funny.
“But that would mean that I was grooming you… do you really think that would be acceptable behaviour from me? Do you believe you deserve a therapist or a dominant who would manipulate you like that?”
I shake my head, my eyes glued back to the floor.
“Mia, please don’t blame yourself. I made the assumption you had enough information about why I want to help you. It was my responsibility to ensure that boundary was firmly established, especially when I know how common it is for clients to develop feelings for their therapists.”
“Is it common?” The shame lifts a little, but I still can’t bring myself to look up.
“You aren’t even my first client that I’ve had this conversation with. We talk about very personal things; if some wires become crossed it’s easy for me to end up representing what you want from a partner. Does that make sense?”
“Oh… yes. Sort of.”
“And, aside from the fact that I am your therapist, even if I wasn’t, I don’t have any submissives.”
He sighs heavily, and when I chance a look at him, he looks years older and his sadness is palpable.
“A long time ago I was in a position of power, but not what a true dominant should be. I was not a good man, and I caused an unimaginable amount of hurt. I can never take back what I did, and I can never make up for it. So, alongside my regular clients, I offer free therapy to submissives to try and ensure they are never preyed on by someone like the man I was.”
I understand the weight of shame, so when his eyes meet mine there’s nothing but compassion to greet them.
“Thank you, I understand. So… did she know about your past? Or just that you would be willing to help me?” He knows I still can’t say her name, although we’re trying to work on it.
“Natasha?” I nod, and he ignores my wince of pain at hearing her name out loud.
“Both, but she isn’t actively in my life. Had she been, I wouldn’t have taken you on as it wouldn’t have been appropriate. But I want to reassure you again that I would never tell her that you’re even a client, let alone what we talk about.”
I nod, and the tension leaves the air. “So, same time next week then?”
He looks at me thoughtfully; there’s a hint of something in his eyes that I don’t recognise before the familiar glint of humour returns.
“Whilst I don’t want you to forget that propositioning me was wildly inappropriate, I’m flattered you think an old man like me could keep up with you.”
I snort, buttoning my jacket to hide my blush. “Sorry, it was my mistake for thinking you could. I hadn’t considered that whipping could be a health hazard for the elderly.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth do I wish I could take them back. My skin heats up by about ninety degrees.
“In another life, had I been your Dominant, you wouldn’t have dared speak to me like that.”
He looks amused, and somewhat wistful, whilst I’m tongue-tied and blushing from head to toe. He shakes his head wearily.
“Same time next week, and for both of our sakes let’s consider this matter dealt with.”
I mumble my agreement and slip out the door before I can embarrass myself any further. I’ve never been so glad to skip down the stairs and escape into the fresh air.
For a long time now, I’ve been the star student of our class. I never thought I’d find a silver lining to the hole Natasha left, but life is full of surprises, and it keeps on throwing me through a loop.
It starts off as a normal Friday. I’m running late for class, so I’m last in to change. I squeeze into my usual spot, chirping my usual greetings to everyone, and I’m halfway through changing before I realise that the chatter that usually fills the room is suspiciously absent.
A familiar, heady scent catches my attention and affects my traitorous body in ways in which it shouldn’t after all this time. Just like that, she’s here again; like nothing happened, like no time has passed, like she didn’t walk away and leave my heart shattered into tiny pieces. I don’t look – I can’t – and I pray that she doesn’t speak because I don’t think my heart could take it.
I can feel her eyes on me throughout the class, and I like to think they’re appraising as I soar through the session. Somehow I manage to make it through without a single encounter, not even a hint of eye contact… until I’m outside after class and trying to call a taxi. It’s raining hard, and we’re soaked almost as soon as we’ve stepped out.
I can smell her before I see her – scent really is the most powerful memory trigger. I don’t want to look. She gently tugs at my arm.
“Let’s talk. Come on.”
I spin around and try to hold on to the flare of anger that I feel when I look into her frustratingly, beautiful, perfect face for the first time in forever.
“It took just a few weeks to get me completely hooked on you. Then you were gone, and it took forever for me to be even slightly okay. And now you’re trying to call the shots again like nothing ever happened, acting like everything is fine-”
“Mia, do I look fine to you? I’ve watched you flourish whilst I fell apart.”
I look at her properly for the first time, and I can see she’s telling the truth. She’s still so beautiful, but she looks exhausted, and like she’s lost too much weight. Her intensity is there but so much dimmer than before.
I grab her hands, suddenly afraid. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
She chuckles, the sound stirring something in me I desperately try to ignore. “Maybe, in my head? I went home for a while, and it wasn’t a happy experience. And I don’t think I’ve slept properly since the last time you were next to me.”
Her vulnerability catches me off guard. When she tugs my hand and motions for me to follow I have to go with her. Her front door and the staircase feel both foreign and familiar, and once we’re seated I try not to think about the last time I was here.
I don’t realise my teeth are chattering until she tugs gently at my soaking jacket.
“You’re freezing. Let’s warm you up.”
“If this is just an excuse to take my clothes off-”
She rolls her eyes. “Or maybe I just want to talk to you, and I want you to be comfortable?”
She’s only satisfied once the fire is lit and I’m wrapped in a thick blanket. I’ve changed into a long-sleeved, soft shirt that smells like her and it’s taking all of my willpower not to inhale when she sets a steaming mug of tea in front of me.
She has changed too but she’s still shivering, so I open the blanket and make space for her next to me. I expect her to resist, but she comes so willingly it makes my heart ache.
We sit side by side, stiff at first, trying to navigate this new territory. She still feels cold, so eventually I gently steer us until she’s lying down and I wrap myself around her, tucking the blanket over us and resting my head on her shoulder.
She breathes a little contented sigh, and if I wasn’t so worried, I’d be angry with her about how easy and perfect this is. I want to shake her, demand answers, ask her why we couldn’t have just done this before?
Her heart is pounding under my hand. “I know I said I wanted to talk, but, now that you’re here, it’s so much harder…” I’m used to her leading, and her uncertainty pains me.
I move closer, pressing my face into her neck. We both stiffen at the contact, and I try to ignore the warmth that pulses under my skin. “It’s ok, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
She gives a dry little sob, and I’d take all the pain of the last year again so she didn’t have to hurt. “I know you aren’t, Mia. Somehow you’re still here, after I broke us both just because I was scared. I don’t deserve you.”
“You do. You deserve to be happy, and so do I. But I can only try if I know you won’t run again.”
She turns to face me, our lips just inches apart and her fingers softly brushing the hair away from my cheek. “Never. Never again. But I also don’t want to rush this. I want to take it slow and give us both the relationship we deserve.”
I barely get the chance to agree before she closes the gap between our lips and kisses me softly and sweetly. I expect her to stop me when I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, but she matches my need, devouring my lips hungrily until we’re both gasping for breath.
She rests her forehead against mine. “You aren’t going to feel rejected if I stop things from going too far, are you?”
“Maybe before, but not now.”
A few soft and lazy kisses later she pulls away again, her eyes soft and proud. “You decided to go to therapy, didn’t you? I’m assuming you decided to stick with him?”
I nod, basking in her approval. “So… I know he wouldn’t tell you anything even if you asked. How did you know I was flourishing?”
Her mouth twists into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was never really gone, I just knew you’d stay away because I’d told you to. You couldn’t bear to disobey, however much it hurt you. I switched classes to a different day, but I’d find excuses to walk by the studio just before class would be starting or ending. I couldn’t cut myself off from you completely.”
“But I wasn’t okay… I just had to find a way to carry on. When I wasn’t coping…”
She presses a finger to my lips. “I know. I saw. I can’t forget. And I promise I will never hurt you like that again.”
—————————————————————————————————
The first few weeks after our reunion are a mix of bliss and anxiety. To her credit, Natasha is so sweet, patient and attentive that I eventually realise that this time really is different. She has no intention of pulling away from me again.
We take things slow, as we both agreed, although this proves to be far easier said than done. We try to date more traditionally to begin with, but neither of us are traditional women. Our dates begin to reflect our inner desires, which adds another layer of torture to taking things slow.
One night we attend a burlesque show that I’ve waited months to see. A dancer, curvy and sensual, seems to have all of Natasha’s attention.
I nudge her with my elbow. “You arrived with me, remember? Am I going to end up leaving by myself?”
She chuckles and the look in her eyes is… devilish. “I was just thinking that you could definitely do better. In private. For me.”
She rests her fingers against my cheek, feeling the blush spreading under my skin. We’ve faced plenty of temptation before now, from physically having to pry ourselves apart after getting too heated during a movie… Or saying goodbye… Or basically any time we’re alone together.
However, the only mention of anything more was when we both agreed that it was completely off the table until we were both ready. I have been for a while now, but I know Natasha is healing and learning to trust herself again. That felt worth waiting for, even if I am falling asleep every night thinking about all the different ways I wish she’d torture me.
Realising she might take my silence for reluctance, I dip my eyes in an obvious act of submission. “Ma’am only has to ask. You know I’ll do anything to please you.”
Her fingers are still on my cheek, and she’s so quiet I’m scared I’ve pushed too hard. When she dips her fingers under my chin and forces me to look at her, her eyes are dark and hungry, and my body burns with hot desire and relief.
“Are you sure you’re ready, Mia? You’re not rushing because you want to make me happy?”
“Yes. Pleeeease.” I didn’t mean for it to come out so whiny, but from the way she smirks, and how her fingers tighten around my chin, it was probably the right response. “I mean, yes. I’m ready. I have been for a little while, but I didn’t mind waiting until you were. So yes, please, let’s talk about it.”
Her smile is dazzling, and her fingers brush against my lips after she releases my chin. “Ok, but not now. After class on Friday.”
“Can I at least sit on your lap?”
She pretends to think about it, like I haven’t crept up there to snuggle with her fifty times before now. “I guess… you were distracting me anyway, so a little more can’t hurt.”
I slip out of my seat and onto her lap. “I was distracting you? You mean you were ogling the dancers and I called you out on it.”
Her arms snake around my waist and pull me closer. Her breath is hot against my skin as she presses a few soft kisses against my neck, working her way up to behind my ear. I can’t stop myself from grinding into her lap when she nips my earlobe gently.
“I told you I was picturing you up there. All of these girls are boring. I’d much rather watch you. Now, pay attention to your show.” The shift in our dynamic is palpable and delicious.
I try to watch the rest of the show, but I’m far too distracted. One of her hands, innocently placed around my waist, finds its way to my thigh. Scarlet nails rake up my bare skin, and soft fingers smooth their way back down. She laces the fingers of her other hand with mine, but soon they’re tracing teasing patterns on the back of my hand and down to my palm.
Every now and again her lips brush against my neck, or her tongue teases my ear. I can’t keep still, and by the end of the show I’m a sweaty, wriggly mess and dying to escape her lap. We have four long nights until there’s even a chance she might actually touch me; but that also means I have four more nights where I can touch myself whilst I fantasise about all the different ways she might take me apart.
As the lights come up, she tightens her grip around me, pinning me to her lap. She sucks my earlobe gently, then laughs as I melt into her. “You know why I love these little dresses of yours, Mia?”
“Because you think I’m cute, and my ass looks amazing?”
“Of course. But also because they’re flimsy. Whenever you wear cotton you soak right through it, and I can feel what a needy little mess you are.”
I try to turn around to see if she’s serious, but she holds me in place, sucking and biting my neck. “You’re exaggerating, it’s not that bad.”
I feel her smiling against my skin. “Would I lie to you? You’re always too distracted to notice. Why don’t you see for yourself?”
The room has almost emptied, so there’s no one around to see me slip my hand between my thighs. Sure enough, a huge wet patch has soaked through my underwear onto my dress. I’ve barely got my hand free before she’s grabbed my wrist and raised it to her mouth so she can suck my fingers clean. My brain short-circuits at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth against my skin.
When she’s released my fingers, she purrs contentedly against my ear. “See? And what a delicious mess you are. I don’t think it would be too unreasonable to ask you not to touch yourself until Friday? I want you to be so needy you beg for it. Don’t think about trying to cheat though, Mia, I always know. You’ve been far too satisfied on our dates recently.”
Always two steps ahead of me. I love her; I love her so much. But I can’t tell her, because I’m still afraid she’ll run. So, I turn around and kiss her instead, biting her lip and grinding hard on her thighs, until I can feel her trembling with need. “So, Friday then?” My tone is innocent, although it takes every fibre of my being to pull away from her.
“I can still meet you for lunch on Wednesday if you like?” Her tone is casual as she slips her jacket over my shoulders and hides the evidence of our indiscretions. I sneak a look at her bare legs and try not to think about how I’d soaked through my dress.
“Yes please.” I slip my hand into hers and let her lead me to the taxi rank outside. She kisses me gently and makes me promise to text her once I’m home safely. I’m on cloud nine, but even the world’s coldest shower won’t help me sleep tonight.
————————————————————————————————————————-
I experience the longest four days of my life, and I’m sure I’ve aged about ten years by midweek. I wish I could say lunch made the wait more bearable, but it ends up being another opportunity for Natasha to torture me.
Her beautiful, coppery waves are pinned up, showing off her gorgeous bone structure. Her jeans are so tight it’s unfair, and her boots make her legs look even longer. She glows with her usual intensity, and she smells divine.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I don’t even bother with a normal greeting as I slump down opposite her.
“And hello to you too, Mia. I had a meeting this morning, and I needed to look the part.”
“You know how much I love it when you wear your hair like thaaat…”
“You want me to take it down?”
“No!” I reach across and grab her hand. Her smirk says she knows exactly what she’s doing, as her thumb rubs circles against the delicate skin of my wrist.
She’s ordered for me, so I pick at my food and admire how radiant she is in the midday sun. She’s animated as she tells me about her morning, all sparkling eyes and perfect, smiling lips. She pauses to scold me gently about not eating enough of my lunch and laughs when I pout and complain about her being too pretty, and how it’s distracting me.
“You know that it’s true though, right?” We’re finishing up and I’m getting my fill of her before we say goodbye again.
“What?” She’s paying the bill and only half listening.
“You’re easily the most beautiful woman in this square. Probably the whole city. Most likely the whole world.”
“Second most.” She corrects me, and kisses me sweetly on the forehead.
“No, but really… you are, both inside and out. I don’t think you always realise.”
She sighs and turns to face me. “You’re right; sometimes I don’t see it. But when I see how you look at me, with those big, adoring eyes, it’s impossible not to feel like I must be something special.”
There’s a new tension in the air, unspoken words hanging heavy between us. Instead, we kiss for far longer than is appropriate in public and only part once she realises I’m late for my lecture.
—————————————————————————————————
Class is the longest, most torturous experience of my life. Although my body doesn’t betray me, I can feel her eyes burning into me throughout the session. When I chance a look at her, her expression is so hungry I almost melt from the intensity alone.
She changes next to me after our session, and neither of us say anything until I’m about to put my jacket on.
“Mia, silly… your top is inside out. Let me fix it for you.”
Before I can react she’s invaded my space, and her nails scrape up my sides as she lifts my top over my head. I’m frozen in place as she keeps her eyes fixed on mine, quickly flipping the fabric the right way and smoothing it down over the sea of goosebumps that cover my torso.
Every inch her fingers came in contact with is searing. Her smirk is knowing, but her eyes betray just how much she needs this too. I’d enjoy the heady feeling of being so admired if I wasn’t so desperate for her to devour me. I take her hand and let her lead me into the hazy evening.
When we get to her door, she pins me to the wood, kissing me so roughly I can taste blood. She kisses her way along my jaw, tenderly, then grazes her teeth along my earlobe, supporting my body with hers when my legs threaten to give out.
“You know, I’ve thought so many times about how I want to have you right here, in the street, where anyone could see. Lucky for you, I have other plans for tonight.” Her breathy whisper cuts through me, and then I stumble backwards as she unlocks the door. She catches me easily and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to my mouth.
“Clumsy, as always. Jacket and shoes stay on. Don’t ask why.”
Through the haze of frustration, my mind flits back to our conversation a few days before, and my face burns when I realise what she has in store for me. I’d let her pick my entire outfit for today, from my shoes to my underwear, and she’d been very specific about what she wanted.
The air feels heavier with every step, so by the time we reach the soft glow of her bedroom I feel as though I might collapse under the weight of the tension alone. When she sits at the edge of the bed, I go to follow her but she motions for me to wait. Her expression is teasing but her eyes glow with anticipation.
“Now, now, did I tell you to sit?”
“No, Ma’am. I apologise.” The words feel so comfortable, so right, and although she’s in her element I can see the delight in her eyes and the tension lifting from her body.
“That’s more like it. I want you to stand in the middle of the room, back straight and feet apart. And I want you to look at me, Mia. No looking away.”
Despite knowing what’s coming, I already feel exposed. She spends an eternity admiring me, so I’m squirming under her gaze by the time she eventually decides to take pity on me.
“I want you to take your jacket off for me. Slowly, though. No shrugging it off in a hurry like you usually do. And no looking away.”
I squirm on the spot, caught between lust and embarrassment, a question on the tip on my tongue. She sighs, feigning exasperation.
“You get one question. Now ask, quickly; I’m not feeling very patient tonight.” This is a lie, and we both know it. She’s hungry, but she’ll draw this out for as long as she can.
“Can we at least have some music? You can pick, I just-” she cuts me off with a look of disapproval.
“I believe this was my fantasy, was it not?”
“Yes Ma’am, but-”
“No buts, Mia. Now, I would like you to continue. As you seem to have forgotten how to obey my instructions, I think a lash with a cane for each time you don’t do as I asked should help remind you. Are we clear?”
“Yes Ma’am.” My face burns red hot as I scramble out of my jacket. As it hits the floor, I realise my mistake. Without breaking eye contact, I bend down to retrieve it, put it back on and start again, slowly this time. She smiles in approval.
“Good girl for correcting yourself. That’s one lash you’ve earned, by the way.” The praise warms me further, adding to the fire burning under my skin. When my jacket is carefully off and out the way, I stand still and await more instruction.
“Well done for being patient. Your top next, please.” I remove it slowly, but follow the path her fingers had traced earlier, dragging my nails up my sides. My mind is emptying – the only thing that’s important now is the sound of her voice and making sure I’m following her instructions.
“Perfect, Mia. Look at how pretty you are.” The room isn’t cold, but I’m vaguely aware of the goosebumps covering every inch of me, even as the inferno that was my insides rages on. The intensity rolls off her in waves, now, and her eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen them.
“Skirt, please.” As I reach my ankles, I break eye contact with her for just a fraction longer than necessary. By the time I’ve straightened up her smirk is positively wicked.
“I was very clear about eye contact, Mia. That’s two.” Usually I’d question how fair this was, but, instead, I gently place my skirt with the rest of my clothes and let her admire me again. I’m now just in underwear and the unnecessarily high heels she picked out for me, but I’m basking in her approval, all of my earlier anxieties forgotten. She bites her lip, eyes raking up and down my body.
“I’d almost forgotten how good you look in lace. I’m tempted to keep you like this, but I think I’ll save it for next time. Now, I want you to guess what I’d choose next. Get it wrong and you get another lash.”
It doesn’t take much thought on my part before I unclasp my bra. Her expression is unreadable for a minute as I slide the straps down my burning skin, holding my breath in anticipation. Then the moment passes, and her smile is dazzling.
“That’s exactly what I would’ve gone for, although I’m almost disappointed you got it right… I think your tits are actually better than I remembered.” As I drop my bra with the rest of my clothing, I very deliberately break eye contact with her. When our eyes meet again, she looks at me with nothing short of adoration.
“Three lashes now. What’s next?” As I slowly slide delicate lace down my thighs, it takes every ounce of strength not to collapse on the spot just from the way she looks at me. I can’t look away from her hands as she flexes her fingers, a thoughtful look on her face as she clearly considers something.
“We need to work on this eye contact, Mia. Four now, how disappointing.” Her eyes are wild and anything but disappointed.
She crosses the room and stands behind me, pressing herself up against my naked body and burying her face in my neck. Her hands are resting on my hips, nails digging in lightly, every inch of her is trembling. My arms are at my sides, and I’m dying to touch her, but I have to trust that she’ll give me that opportunity whenever she’s ready. I don’t think I’ll ever have the restraint she must have to pull away. She’s still behind me, hands on my hips, leaving only a little breathing room between the two of us.
“I’d like to take your shoes off for you, as you’ve been so good for me. Would you like that?”
“Yes please, Ma’am.” I know this is a trap, but I honestly couldn’t care less if it means she keeps touching me. I’d take one thousand lashes, as many as she’ll give me.
“Stay still, remember?” An impossible task now that her lips are against my neck, licking and nipping my sensitive skin. My hair is still tied up, but she slides a hand up my back to play with the little ringlets that fall onto my neck. My eyes are shut tight, and my nails dig into my palms as I try my hardest not to react, but it’s impossible not to shiver when she bites down hard on my shoulder.
“Five.” I can feel her smiling against my skin. Then, both of her hands are back on my hips, nails digging in hard as she kisses and licks her way down my spine. I can’t help but squirm when her tongue teases the dip in my back; then my legs almost give out completely when she pinches my inner thigh as punishment.
“Naughty, Mia. That takes us up to seven in total.”
Once her mouth reaches the curve of my ass, I’m almost delirious. A sharp nip to the delicate skin brings my total to eight. Her tongue, teasing the inside of my thigh where I’m so desperately wet, takes it to nine. I don’t think I’m completely still after that, but she doesn’t say anything until she’s made it all the way down to my ankles, torturing every inch with her mouth and fingers.
When my shoes are off, she catches me easily before I collapse in a heap. She seems composed as she steers me gently to the bed, but her breathing is shaky as she bends me over the edge, my body pressed against the mattress and feet resting on the floor. She gives my trembling legs a second to steady themselves before pressing her lips up against my ear.
“Do you think you can make it to ten? Will your legs hold? You’re already so shaky.” Her voice is gentle, and I know it’s not part of the game.
“Yes Ma’am, and then-”
“And then I’ll touch you, for being such a good girl for me.”
“I can do ten, Ma’am.” As she steps away, I’m about to bury my face in the bed. Remembering the first time, and how she wanted to hear me, I rest my cheek against the covers instead. Gentle fingers tangle themselves in my hair, and her thumb brushes against my cheek.
“I love how hard you try to please me. You’re too sweet, Mia.” Her tone is so soft and loving I want to melt into the bed. Then her hands are on my hips, positioning them so my legs can hold my weight properly.
“This is going to hurt more than anything else we’ve tried. Do you remember our safe word?”
“Emboîté, Ma’am.”
“Good. I want you to count out loud for me too, Mia. If you forget, I’ll add another. Do you understand?”
“Yes Ma’am.” My legs tremble as she strokes and squeezes my ass gently.
“I wish you could see yourself right now. Your amazing ass is going to look even better once I’m done with it.”
Her hands are gone now, and the anticipation is killing me. I bite my lip and steel myself, but, even though I hear the flick of the wood beforehand, the pain of the first blow still takes me by surprise.
“One.” It comes out as more of a gasp as I try to catch my breath.
The second blow hits a different spot, but it’s no less painful. It’s more of a burn than the sting I was expecting and much more intense.
“Two.”
The third blow lands across the back of my thighs, and the burning is so intense I can’t help but cry out. Hearing Natasha’s little gasp of pleasure makes my blood burn even hotter, and even though it hurts, I’m so wet it must be dripping down my thighs.
‘Three.”
Every muscle in my body is tense and trembling in anticipation of the next blow, so when she strikes two in the same spot, it burns so badly it’s impossible for me to stay quiet.
“Four. Five.” My voice cracks, and my breathing is ragged. The pain sears, but I’m so hot in a different way that I’m pressing my hips into the bed. When Natasha presses herself against my back to check on me, I can feel her trembling; her heart is pounding. Her hand is in my hair, and she presses soft kisses all over my face and neck.
“Half way. You’re handling it so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice is nothing short of adoring, and she’s as breathless as I am. Her other hand finds its way between my legs and I feel, rather than hear, her gasp when she discovers how wet I am.
“Just a few more, ok? And then I’ll take such good care of you.” I can feel the effort it takes for her to tear herself away from me. When the sixth blow lands on the back of my thighs again, the pain is so intense my counting comes out as more of a sob.
“Six.”
She hits the seventh and eighth blows in quick succession, and I sob and press my hips harder into the mattress. The sensations are all mixed up, and I’m so hot and wet, and it hurts so much I almost forget to count. I don’t hold back the sobs.
“Seven. Eight.”
I didn’t realise how hard I was clutching the covers until the ninth blow hits at the very lowest part of my back, and I have to grip the bed to stop my legs from giving out. I’m starting to feel almost lightheaded and detached, and I have to force myself to count.
“Nine.” It still comes out as a sob – I hadn’t realised I was still crying.
The last blow catches both sides of my ass, searing across my raw skin, and my counting comes out as more of a scream. I’ve barely got the words out before I’m on my back and Natasha is kissing me fiercely, sucking and biting my lips and pinning me to the bed with her body.
I hadn’t realised how much she’d been holding back on me. I’m swimming in a sea of sensation, and even if I wanted to fight back against her, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m not sure when it happens, but I realise she’s finally shed her clothes and every inch of her glorious body is pressed as close to mine as it can get.
She yanks my wrists above my head, only letting go for a second so she can lift my head and take my hair down. Pinning me again roughly, she nips and sucks all over my neck and chest, delighting in the noises I make when she bites down hard on my nipples over and over again. My legs end up around her hips, and her free hand is between my thighs, her fingers inside me. She’s so rough that it should just hurt, but it’s exactly what I need. I sob and moan into her mouth as she sets a bruising pace with her fingers, the tension building so quickly in my body that I barely recognise I’m ready when she growls in my ear for me to come for her. She clearly knows my body better than I do, even after all this time, as I finish so intensely I end up screaming and sobbing into her mouth.
She doesn’t even begin to slow down. I’m floating at this point, in and out, but I know I’m overstimulated; everything feels too good and too much. Her mouth and hands are still everywhere, still greedy and pushing me further than she’s taken me before. She keeps up the brutal pace with her fingers until the sensations shift from ‘too much’ to ‘just enough’, and she drags a second orgasm from me, kissing me wherever she can reach and praising me over and over.
When her fingers become too much, she switches to her mouth, using her strength to pin my hips down when they buck uncontrollably, because even just her tongue teasing me feels too intense. Her fingers pinch my bruised nipples at the same time, and at some point I realise I’m begging her over and over for more – because I don’t think I can ever get enough of her – even too much from her is still never going to be enough.
After an eternity of gentle pressure, she adds her fingers, pressing in all the places I love and giving me something to bear down on. Her tongue teases my clit in just the way I like, and she builds me up so slowly this time, letting the tension gradually fill every inch of me. Her free hand keeps pinching my nipples and matches the rhythm of her fingers and tongue until every cell in my body is screaming and I can’t take anymore; and my body gives into her once again. Her mouth finds mine, kissing me desperately and telling me how beautiful and good and perfect I am. And then I can’t really think or feel much more. I just float.
After a haze of water, sleep and aloe cream, the light filtering through the cracks in the blinds is soft and golden. Natasha looks tired but glowing. She’s gazing down at me, and the only way I can describe the look on her face is… awestruck.
“What time is it?” My voice is cracked and hoarse, which is hardly surprising, but we both wince at how bad I sound.
“Late morning. You’ve been out for quite a while.”
“Wow…”
I snuggle closer to her, revelling in how good her bare skin feels against mine. She pulls me closer, so our limbs are all tangled up together and I’m tucked under her chin. She gives a content little sigh, and my heart feels so full
“You didn’t sneak away to get dressed…” I don’t mean to sound as relieved as I do, but she just holds me tighter and laughs.
“I did throw something on at one point as caring for you was a bit impractical without clothes. But this feels too good to pass up, and I’ve been dreaming about it since the last time…”
She sounds so sad, and I can’t allow it. At first, my kisses are supposed to reassure her. Then, when she pulls me on top of her, her hands in my hair and touching me all over so gently, I’m suddenly aware of how generous she’d been to me the night before.
I remember the first time with her, and how she used her beautiful mouth to make me feel so good, and how badly I wanted to repay her, but she’d never let me get close enough. When my mouth moves away from her lips to the base of her neck, I expect her to distract me or take back control.
Instead, she makes the most delicious, contented noise, then grabs my hair so she can push my head lower. When my mouth finds her nipple she arches her back and moans when I graze it with my teeth. I’ve imagined this so many times, but it never came close to how good this feels. I’ve not spent nearly enough time toying with her before she growls in frustration and tries to push my head lower.
Even though I’m dying to please her, I can’t help but tease.
“You’re so impatient, Ma’am.’ My mouth is still against her nipple, and I revel in the frustrated noise I get in response. Then she tugs on my hair none too gently.
“There was no time for me last night… my hands and then my mouth were full.”
“Ok, ok, I get it.” I’m still a little scared she might change her mind, so I quickly dip my mouth lower. She shivers when my tongue first teases her clit, and her hand in my hair tightens its grip until it’s almost painful.
She’s already so wet and makes the most amazing little noises whilst trying to press herself further into my mouth. When I pause to smile at her impatience, she tugs my hair again and growls at me to keep my mouth right there.
I spend a little time getting comfortable with just my tongue and end up unbelievably turned on by how good she sounds and feels. She’s still so bossy and demanding, but she’s also deliciously frustrated and needy. When I’m brave enough to slip my fingers inside her, I almost forget what I’m supposed to be doing when she moans for more.
I think about the pace and rhythm she used to please me; and when I speed up a little and she gasps my name, I can’t think of a single thing that feels better than this does. Her thighs are tensing up now, and her moans are dangerously distracting. She moves her hips in time with my mouth and keeps my head pressed firmly in place. She’s close, so I give her a bit more pressure with my tongue, and that’s all she needs.
“Fuck, Mia, yes…”
Her moaning my name is a thing of beauty – throaty, delicious, and satisfied. I keep going until she’s completely done and tugs on my hair again, pulling me up so she can kiss me deeply. When we come up for air, she looks at me with such adoration I don’t need to hear out loud how she feels. I just know, and that’s enough.