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“Not a vibrator?”
“No . . . nothing that penetrates . . .” Christ.
“I understand,” he told her. “What do you say we take things in stages?”
“What does that mean?”
“Like the first date is kissing . . . the next is touching your breasts. The third is me kissing your breasts. The fourth is me fingering you to a release. The fifth is you sitting on my face.”
“And the sixth?” she asked, her voice strangled with desire.
“I’ll leave that up to you. What do you think the sixth should be?”
“Me sucking your cock,” she blurted out.
“Well, I would never say no to that.”
Holy heck.
“Dates?”
“It doesn’t have to be dates.”
“We could try dates,” she said. “But you can do those things other times too.”
“Good. Because I’m not sure I could hold back from kissing you. Oh, I thought of another rule. You have to hold my hand whenever we go out and you’re in Little space.”
“I can’t go out when I’m Little.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone might notice.” She thought that was obvious.
“What about if we go somewhere like LittleLand?” he asked.
“Oh. Maybe . . . that might be different.”
“Good. Then you’ll hold my hand. Or I might have to try out that discipline room.”
Yikes.
“Other limits. No calling you names or humiliating you. Of course not. No blood. No withholding affection. Baby, no. I would never. No bondage. Or sensory deprivation. Okay, got that. You’ve missed something.”
“I’ve probably missed lots of things.”
“What about anal play?”
“I don’t . . . I’ve never done any anal play.”
“Good.”
“Good?” she questioned.
“I can be your first. I like that.”
Sheesh. He was so possessive.
“What about your Little? Are there things your Little likes or needs from me?” he asked.
