Page 31 of Summer

The corset slackens, and I worry I’ve pushed her too far. Then the top layer of the corset tightens, stealing my breath once more. “That’s more like it,” I say.

She yanks hard and that top line tightens again, and I fear the corset will snap. It holds and she moves onto the next row. “If this is what it takes to silence you,” she grinds out, jerking the string hard.

“Tighter,” I whisper. She pauses, and I send her a fleeting look over my shoulder. Her eyes slide to mine and the fire there goads me on. “Tighter,” I repeat.

She jerks on the string again, not nearly as violently as before. I can still breathe, but there is a pleasant pressure there, a constricting. My lungs cannot fill fully, and the sensation sends a jolt down my abdomen to my core.

“Tighter,” I say again, and she jerks hard.

Her body presses against my back, her mouth hovering over my earlobe. “Like this?” she asks.

“I should call for Sessaly,” I say. I am breathless, but not from the corset. I move my head ever so slightly, allowing my hair to fall away and my neck to be exposed. The warmth of her breath hovers there, just over the flesh. When she retreats, I almost cry out in frustration, but it dies in my throat as she fastens the next two rows of ties.

She’s almost done – just another few rows and she’ll have no excuse to be this close. I must do something, but my mind is empty. All I can think about is her closeness, her warm breath, the feel of her breasts against my back as she pushed into me.

“You…” I start, but I have no idea what I mean to say after that. Her mouth is at my ear again, but this time she doesn’t speak. This time she bites my earlobe, and I nearly collapse. My groan is throaty, a last-minute attempt to keep quiet.

Her breath is gone, and she tightens the last line of the corset impossibly tight; it’s the only thing keeping me upright. I cannot possibly dance like this; I would faint at the slightest exertion. But I don’t want this to stop, whatever this is.

I start to turn to her, struggling for something to say, but her fingers dig into my hips to hold me still. Then her hand trails downward to the bottom of my shift, fisting the material as she pulls it up. Just like that night over the desk, I’m exposed inch-by-inch, the fabric doing little to hide me from her.

My fingers dig into the chair for support. Long, silent moments pass and my mind scrambles with something to say. Goad her on, taunt her, insult her…do something!

Her finger slides along the back of my thigh, moving inward to track the moisture sliding down my inner thigh. It’s sweat and arousal, mingling to announce just how turned on I am.

“You like this,” she breathes, so quiet I almost don’t hear it. She grips the knot at the base of the corset ties and yanks, pulling the fabric that much tighter. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” I bite out.

“What about this?” she asks, as her finger trails higher along my thigh. She’s so close to my aching pussy, so close to fulfilling what I’ve dreamed about these last few nights. I nod vigorously, incapable of speaking.

“And here…” she says as her finger finally reaches my sex, dragging slowly along my outer folds.

“Very much,” I grind out. Her nails dig into my thigh as she spreads my legs, the light pain only turning me on me. I’m now leaning over the chair slightly, my legs spread, my shift pulled up to expose me entirely to her. She steps back, and I whimper at the loss of her.

“All for me,” she says, but her voice is no longer rough with arousal. It’s contemplative, and I chance a glance over my shoulder. Her eyes still hold that hunger, but there’s a wonder there too. She catches my gaze, and I nod, a shaky, unbalanced motion.

“Because of you,” I agree.

She’s on me again, her body flush with mine, her mouth on my neck. Her teeth skim the flesh there before biting down. I shove my fingers in my mouth to keep from screaming, the sensations overwhelming.

It’s been years since someone touched me like this. Years since someone awakened my senses like this, destroyed the defenses. I want this and so much more. I want her to devour me completely.

She prods my sex with a finger – hesitant, exploratory. Even that small movement is enough to amp me up more. It takes everything in me not to grind into her hand, to ride her finger until I cum.

She inserts a second finger, still hesitant. Her teeth dig into my shoulder again before her tongue slides over the area, easing the sting she created. Her fingers move quicker now, deft strokes that curl against my insides. If she wants me to cum, it won’t take much. I’ve been a live wire ever since she spanked me.

Any reservation I had melts away as my orgasm starts to build in me. I push back into her hand, into her mouth, palming my breasts in my hands. I try to reach into the corset to pinch my nipples but it’s too tight. The closer I get, the more breathless I am, her attention threatening to undo me. I cannot faint until I cum, even as dark spots dance at the corners of my vision as I get closer.

Gennelle grabs my hair and yanks my head back for better access to my neck, and that’s all it takes for me to fall apart. My orgasm hits me like a meteor, my pussy clenching hard on her fingers. She doesn’t let up, her fingers continuing to pump in me as wave after wave of my orgasm rolls over me. The dark spots coalesce, and I think I may pass out, but I remain present. I want to feel every second of this, of her.

Her fingers slow as my orgasm recedes, slipping from me with a wet pop. When I finally catch my breath, I turn to her shocked face, her hand wet with my arousal outstretched between us.

14

GENELLE

What have I done?