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“Oh, do I?”
“You’ll learn to,” he whispers into my ear, not taking his eyes off mine as he does it.
He spreads his feet a little. “Open your legs,” he whispers. “Place your feet on the inside of mine.”
“Then you’ll realize how tiny they are,” I moan.
“I like your size,” he retorts, his smile a whole chapter on sin. “It makes it easier to fling you over my shoulder when you’ve been bad and carry you into the room of my choice. It also makes it easier to tie you up and pin your body down.Now, do it.”
I spread my legs a little, placing my feet inside his which, I’m not kidding, look twice the size of mine.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers and I can’t help but inhale the compliment, biting my lip.
He draws his index and middle fingers to my mouth. “Suck, please. As if you’re giving me head.”
“How would I know what that’s like when I’ve never been allowed to properly?” asks my inner brat with a smile designed purely to provoke.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve imagined it… Or am I wrong, Indigo?”
I remain mute, for we both know I’ve spent weeks picturing being down on my knees, opening my mouth and licking and sucking with reverence until I finally manage to milk him of his cum.
In taciturn concession, I part my lips and he pushes his fingers inside. My lips envelop them in an instant as my tongue relishes his skin. Our eyes remained fixed to each other through the mirror as he curls his fingers deep into my mouth, pulling them out and then back in again… over and over.
Watching myself in a mirror, my mouth occupied, is not something I’ve ever experienced… but then, I feel that way about so many of the things I live through with the mysterious Mr. Everitt.
After a couple of minutes of simulated fellatio with his fingers, he withdraws them, dropping them to my clit.
“Look at what my hand is doing,” he whispers, and I begin to take in the sight of his fingers running up and down the open pink slit.
“Shit,” I mutter as he pinches my clit, smoothing the flesh upwards so that I can see it, then downwards, finding the opening to my pussy, curling his fingers and invading.
There is no sound but the squelch of his invasion as he penetrates me, over and over, before tending to my clit so deftly that I’m starting to think he has a detailed blueprint of the ten thousand little nerve fibers nestled within the ridge of pleasure.
“Do you like that?” he asks as my legs tremble a little.
“Yes.”
“Yes what, Indigo?”
“Yes, sir,” I respond, amazed that I actually want to say the word.
“My good girl. Now I’m going to put a leash on you.”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want it. Not today.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’m not ready to feel like I should be in a kennel yet.”
“Indigo, with time, you’ll be crawling on your hands and knees behind me on that leash… and feeling more pleasure than you thought possible.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But… not today.”
“Very well. Stay exactly as you are. Don’t move. I’m going to fuck you as you watch. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
