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She unties Casper as I watch from the love seat. He’s still hard.
“He didn’t...you know...” I say to Demica quietly once he’s left the room.
“You didn’t say he could.”
Oh.
“Come here, Miss Nolan.” Demica draws me to one of the posts of the bed. “Up.” She motions to my hands and my nervousness breaks out through every cell.
“I read something online about a safeword...” I gulp back my heartbeat.
“Excellent research Miss Nolan,” Demica says with a smile. “In this play the safeword is ‘ground.’ You must use it if anything gets to be too much.”
Quickly, she works the cuffs in place; they are soft, padded on the inside, similar to the ones we used on Casper.
I’m left hanging on my tiptoes in these awfully high heels. I keep my legs together hoping she can’t see how wet I am.
“Uh-uh...” I get a tap from the crop on my knees before it works its way between my legs. I get the hint. I pull my legs apart.
“Why, Miss Nolan, I think you’re enjoying your training.”
I blush even more deeply than when I first saw Casper, as the riding crop snakes up my inner thigh. I suck my breath in as my body undulates. Something deep down inside springs into being.
The crop settles on the patch of fabric between my legs. Demica moves it back and forth achingly slowly. I let out a whimper and get a sharp crack from the crop against my thigh. “Oh!” My thigh explodes in pain from the blow. It certainly wasn’t as hard as the one I’d delivered to the covers...but it’s new to me and smarts like a bitch.
She reaches into my hair and unravels the band. My hair falls down beyond my shoulders.
I pull myself together.
And stand up straight.
The crop returns to the panties, going back and forth in a slow, methodical tease.
Her hand works the bra. It unclips, but she doesn’t remove it; instead, she holds the cups and rubs them against my breasts. She might be lithe looking, but she’s strong...her pressure flattens my nipples and a desperate ache breaks out across my lower belly.
She throws the bra to the love seat. The crop lightly taps my nipple in a succinct beat that makes me moan.
Crack!
The crop meets my thigh again. And this time the sting is multiplied and lingers deeply. The safeword vaults to the tip of my tongue.
She returns to the tapping, light and sure against my nipple.
Her fingers reach for the panties; she winds them into her fist, catching any slack. They’re pulled hard against my clit and I bite my lip harder, desperate not to make a sound.
I hear something tear, the panties ripping away. I lower my head, staring down at my bared body. My thigh is burning, growing a deep shade of red. The crop works its way between my lips, immediately sliding in the wetness. The flat end of it rubs against my clit.
I start to shake.
The crop cracks my thigh and an explosive sob leaves my mouth.
Power.
It takes long minutes of silence to compose myself, and for the crop to come back to my clit.
I hold my nerve, close my eyes to allow the sensations to pummel me.
I start to come. It’s basic, alive and begins from my core.
