Page 145 of Whirlwind

Carla nosed up under her neck, kissing below her ear. “Charlie, you give me everything. I told you that you’re enough for me just like this. Just being yourself. But if you still want to let me take care of you, to submit to me, that would be a marvelous gift.”

Charlie debated. It would be so easy to hold back. She could live inside her blanket of fears until another day. Another year.

But as soon as she stepped past the fears, she knew that she wanted this. She might not trust herself, but she trusted Carla.

“No, I want this. I just… go easy on me.” It wasn’t easy to ask for help like that. To admit weakness.

She reminded herself that this was different. Carla wanted her to submit not in weakness but as a gift. She was pretty sure that she wanted that, too.

Carla dropped a kiss just below her ear. “The only thing I want is for you to let go and enjoy yourself. That means listening to what you want and giving it to you. Your only job is to let me. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll stop.”

Charlie’s legs felt weak. She nodded. She’d needed that reminder, but even more, Carla’s words were starting to paint pictures in her head.

“Ready?”

She put on a bold face. “Ready.”

Carla led her to a bedroom. The bed was stripped down to the dark blue sheets, but a colorful quilt was folded at the foot. The room was perfectly Carla, colorful and light, with photos of smiling faces and vibrant art.

A moment later she noticed the coiled strands of rope on the neat desk and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. What would it feel like wrapped around her? Would it be rough or smooth? What would it be like to be held in place, unable to move?

Carla stepped behind her, running soothing hands down her arms. “You like that?” he whispered against her ear. His front was pressed to her back and she could feel the insistent bulge in his jeans. Just knowing it was there was driving her crazy.

“I don’t know yet,” she whispered back honestly. But her eyes continued to trace the colored loops.

“You’ll be gorgeous in them. A work of art.”

She snorted. “Unlikely.”

Carla hummed against her neck. “You’ll be gorgeous to me.”

She couldn’t contemplate that for too long. “What do I have to do?”

Carla moved in front of her and his slim fingers found the button at her collar. He opened it and moved to the next one, his touch barely there but burning through her. “You have to trust me. You have to follow my commands and let me touch you, though only where we agreed. You have to let me worship you.”

“Oh…” she breathed out. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

He reached the last button and drew her shirt out from where it was tucked into her pants. Her undershirt still separated them, but he made no attempt to disrupt it as he pulled the sleeves down her arms. When it was off, he hung it over the back of the chair.

When his hands returned, he reached for the button of her jeans. Nervous excitement shot through her with just a brush of his hands.

She hadn’t quite forgotten that she was packing, but now that Carla’s fingers were so close, it was all she could think about.

The dildo was separate and artificial, but it felt like her cock. It was a part of her now. And Carla was opening her zipper with confident motions.

It hung heavy in her boxers, pushing out against them, barely constrained. Carla traced along her length through the fabric. She couldn’t quite feel it, but seeing Carla’s hand on her shaft made her feel like she was being stroked. The ripples of pleasure where the base touched her only added to the sensation.

Carla dropped to one knee to ease the jeans down her legs, taking her socks off with them.

She hadn’t expected him to get on his knees. That didn’t seem very dominant. At the same time, she still knew he was in control. Was he just trying to ease her into things slowly?

He pressed a kiss to her knee. Her thigh. The side of her cock.

She felt a little bit silly, knowing that she wasn’t going to take off any more clothing. It was also strange that she wasn’t supposed to do something. That Carla wasn’t waiting for her to take charge or even respond.

But it was freeing, too. Underneath her worries, she felt sexy. Desired. Taken care of.

Maybe there was a lot more to this than she realized.