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Finding her hands a little distracting, I pull her top up and over her head, but not her arms. The tight top traps her limbs nicely. I look over her black lace bra. Not bad, though it still looks more Fruit of the Loom than Victoria’s Secret. Pushing up the bra, I grope a breast. She tries to wriggle out of her top, stopping when I pinch a nipple.
“Um, are we—is this part of BDSM?” she asks.
“You’ll know without question when we’re in BDSM territory,” I tell her as I go back to kneading a breast. “For one, you’d have a safe word.”
She seems to breathe a sigh of relief. “So we’d only go there if I consented?”
“Yes.”
And you’ll consent. Hell, you won’t just consent to it. You’ll beg for it.
I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and lightly tug on it before applying my mouth. She gasps and writhes with every lick, suck and nibble. After coming off the bud, I give the side of the breast a light slap. Looking into her eyes, I don’t see much of a reaction. No alarm. I go to work on her other nipple as lustfully as I did her mouth while groping the other breast. I pull the bra over her head and behind her, further locking her upper arms to her body, then give her a reprieve when I lightly kiss my way down to her jeans. I cup her crotch and rub her through the denim. Her wetness has seeped through to her pants.
Ignoring the tension in my own groin, I slowly unbutton and unzip her jeans before inching them down past her hips. I leave them wrapped about her thighs and breathe in the scent of her arousal. My blood pumps faster, but I stifle the urge to maul her. Instead, I sit down beside her and tuck my hand into her panties. She moans when my fingers connect with her clit.
“So what did you think about the rest of my club?” I ask as I leisurely caress her flesh.
“You mean…um…the…um…BDSM?” she asks, clearly distracted by my fondling.
“You know what it stands for?”
She furrows her brow. “B-Bondage…Domination…Sadism and Masochism?”
“The ‘D’ can also stand for Discipline and the ‘S’ for Submission. The acronym covers a lot.” Her lashes flutter as I find a poignant spot on her clit. “You didn’t seem scared.”
“I didn’t?”
“Maybe a little.”
Leaning over, I capture a nipple between my teeth. I torment the hardened nub while my fingers rub her more aggressively. With her arms trapped slightly behind her sides by her top and bra and her legs trapped by her jeans, she squirms like a worm on a hook.
“There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take it slow,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks breathlessly.
I curl two fingers into her snatch. Her eyes widen as she groans. Pulling out my digits, I spread her juices over her clit. She whimpers. I continue to jerk her off. Her panties are a puddle of wetness.
“Ask to come,” I say.
“Wh-what?”
“Do you want to come?”
The look on her face tells me how lame she regards my question, but she doesn’t realize I’m starting her training.
“You want to come?” I ask again, slowing my caresses so she focuses better.
“Yeah.”
“Then ask to come.”
She looks slightly bewildered. “Like, ‘can I come?’”
“Just like that.”
My fingers slow to a stop.
Her brow furrows, but she asks, “Can I come?”
I resume the ministrations. “Yes, you can come. Come good, Bridge.”
A minute later she comes undone, her eyes closed, her body quivering. I smile to myself. She passed the first test with flying colors.
