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“Blush?”
“It’s the first word that came to my mind,” he says. “Remember. If I’m hurting you, or if you’re in any way uncomfortable for whatever reason, you just say that word. Blush.”
“Blush,” I whisper.
“Understand?”
“Yes”—I smile—“sir.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jackson
Sir. Oh my God, my groin is on fire.
I didn’t tell her to call me sir. Is she truly a natural submissive? And she’s been here, underneath my eyes, the whole time? How did I never see it?
Except…maybe I did see it, and I looked away before I let it into my conscious mind.
This is Mandy.
My Mandy Cake.
Fuck. This is why she asked me not to call her by that nickname anymore. Because she’snotso sweet and innocent.
She’s not at all who I’ve created her to be in my mind.
She asked for a teacher. I’ve never taken that role. The subs I normally play with are experienced. I’d do anything for Mandy, and if this is what she wants? I will try…and hope that our friendship survives.
“Take off your clothes,” I command.
She begins loosening the ties on her corset.
My God, I’m going to explode.
Once the corset is loose, she unsnaps the hooks. And then she parts it slowly…
So damned slowly that I’m aching.
Her beautiful tits fall gently against her chest, and her hourglass figure…
The only thing that stands between her and me is her pumps and jeans.
She kicks off the shoes, unsnaps and unzips the jeans slowly, and slides them over her hips.
I suck in another breath.
Pink lace panties. Boy shorts. So contrary to the black-and-blue corset.
And so fucking hot.
She flicks her fingers underneath the waistband, ready to remove them, when—
“No. Not yet. Turn around, Mandy.”
She obeys me, and I take a few steps backward to admire her ass in the lace. It’s not a thong, but in its way it’s even hotter. The lace settles in the crack of her ass, and I imagine my tongue there, embedded between her flushed cheeks.
Oh my God…
