I’m hoping her inner plaything shows itself today because I don’t see the same side of her when she’s sober. And I gave her strict rules not to consume a drop of alcohol before coming here.
She said she had signed the contract and checked every box on the form, which tells me she either has no boundaries or she read nothing on that piece of paper. I fear it’s the latter, but she has a point; I can’t prove otherwise. I’m sure she’ll be fine with whatever we do, but verbal consent helps me feel more confident.
“What do I do first?” Her voice is silky and sexy.
My lips quirk. It’s time to put my nervousness aside and own this. This is something I’ve wanted for a while, and I’m not holding back. Not when the opportunity is right in front of me, wearing nothing but lace.
“Don’t talk,” I order, falling into the role. “Not unless you’re given permission.”
She smirks but follows instructions.
“Good girl.”
Her head tips back, and it’s at this moment that I learn she enjoys praise.
Noted.
That part was on the form that she claims to have read. Maybe she read it after all.
“Take off my belt.”
Alisha struts in my direction, kneels before me, and undoes the leather belt from my trousers.
Her eyes raise to mine for further instruction, and I give her an appreciative grin.
“Tie it around your neck.”
She listens, and holy shit, my insides are on fire. Once it’s secured, I grab the excess leather that’s dangling over her breasts and tug on the improvised lead. My finger dips to her chin, tipping it upward so our eyes meet before claiming her mouth with mine. She groans, and her hands move up to touch me, but I take a step back and glance at her.
“Don’t touch me without permission.”
She nods and sits like a well-trained dog.
Like the perfect submissive.
I love this way more than I should.
“Remove my pants.”
The feeling of my zipper inching downward has me wanting to rip my pants off myself, but the point of tonight’s session is to test my patience just as much as I test hers. Unfortunately, it seems she’s playing the same game.
She hooks her fingers through the belt loops and tugs so my pants begin to slide off my hips and toward the floor.
“No panties,” she notes in a flirty tone, but clamps a hand over her mouth when she realizes she broke a rule.
“Struggling to listen is more brat than submissive,” I reprimand. I never thought I’d like the brat trait. Turns out I was right.
Her eyes don’t leave mine, and I’m not sure if she did it on purpose to see what happens or if she is still surprised to see me naked beneath my pants.
Seems I still have the upper hand in this game.
I point toward the bed. “All fours.”
She nods and gets to her feet, walking toward the bed and climbing on top, facing the headboard.
“When you don’t listen, you get punished.”
Her back forms a graceful, sloping line that dips into a curve before rising into the full, pale mounds of her exposed ass. I run my hand over her skin, and when I hear her exhale, I swat her backside.
