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Benson released her knees and bent down, his face between her thighs. He made a noise in the back of his throat, and she thought it was a grunt of approval. Her next inhale was shaky.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded. “What you’re feeling. And I expect honesty.”
“Nervous.” The word was breathy. “Excited…aroused. Maybe a little embarrassed.”
“Why embarrassed?”
“You’re so close to my pussy, looking at it, examining it…”
“All true. I’m going to touch you now.”
He sounded almost like a doctor—clinical and detached.
His fingers stroked her mons pubis, then the crease where thigh met labia. Her hips lifted slightly, a silent plea for him to touch her more intimately.
“For this activity, I will not tie you down.”
She heard the snap of a glove and opened her eyes in time to see that he’d slipped on one black medical glove. This time two fingers moved between her already parted labia, spreading her open further. Her inner muscles clenched in reaction, and she felt fresh wetness.
“Mal, I want to make something clear.”
His tone had her opening her eyes, lifting her head enough that she looked down the length of her own body. Her thighs framed his face.
“We may have the letter P, but remember, pleasure wasn’t one of our items.”
She froze, taking in not just his words but his expression.
“Does that mean…”
“I know your submission is tied to your sexuality and your libido. When we were regular partners, I always incorporated sex. Made sure you came. But that was then.”
Taken aback, she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to sit up and argue with him. Demand that he top her in a way that would physically satisfy them.
But she’d already eased deep enough into her submission that she wouldn’t argue with her Dom.
Primal play. He’d said no to primal play. And now she knew why. The few times they’d tried it had been…so good. And weirdly, the closest they’d ever gotten to “vanilla” sex was after he’d chased and caught her during primal play.
He’d told her there would be no sex during negotiations. She just hadn’t been listening.
Swallowing hard, she lay back, squinting as she stared up at the light embedded in the ceiling. “I understand, Master Benson.”
“Do you?” His fingers slid up and down the inner surface of her labia, carefully avoiding her clit. That was enough to make her moan with pleasure, even as her hands curled and uncurled in anticipation of prolonged sexual frustration.
“I do. This is my punishment, isn’t it, Sir?”
“No.”
“I thought you are all about honesty… Sir.”
He pinched one lip of her labia, hard enough to make her yelp. “Watch your tone, Mal.”
“I’m sorry about my tone, but I stand by what I said.” Her voice trembled, and talking to him like this made her submissive side deeply uncomfortable, but this was an important conversation.
“It could be a punishment. But this isn’t the punishment we’re both really talking about. A weekend of no orgasms is irritating, but it’s not… not enough. You want absolution.” His voice was smooth as cream, but laced with an emotion she could only identify as menace. “You want me to release you from the guilt you’ve been holding onto? That requires more.”
Having this conversation while she was half naked and exposed, his fingers on her pussy, pinching and tugging her labia, made her wonder what she’d been thinking to push and prod him into agreeing to this. Her throat was tight with tears that felt a lot like shame.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Mal.”
