Page 73 of Need

“She was a lady. Beautiful, elegant, but you didn’t ever want to get on her bad side,” I chuckled. “My backside became well acquainted with the palm of her hand on more than one occasion.” That made me think of a question I’d been meaning to ask her. “Did your parents ever spank you?”

Her nose scrunched up as she thought. “Only once... I think.” When she didn’t continue, I prompted her. “I was young. Four? Five? I don’t remember. But my babysitter had a daughter around my age, maybe a little older. A friend of hers had shown her how to make herself throw up, and so she showed me. Mom caught me the next day trying it in our bathroom. She was so mad. I couldn’t sit down for a while after that.” She smiled.

“What about the babysitter?”

“Mom called her and told her. I never went back there, though.”

“I think your mom made a good decision with that one. That was very dangerous.”

“I know.”

After her sharing, I thought back to one of the times my mother had disciplined me. “The worst I can remember was when I stole a bracelet from our gardener. He’d taken it off while he was working around the pool. I knew it was his, but it was shining in the sunlight and I thought it was pretty, so I took it. Dad was out of town, but that didn’t matter. Once my mother figured out I’d been the one to take it, she not only made me give it back and apologize, she also gave me a spanking I have yet to forget. My bottom was still sore when Dad came home the next day.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven, I think. And the worst part was that everyone knew. For weeks after it happened, the housekeeper, the gardener... they all smirked whenever they saw me. It was humiliating. I never stole anything again.”

Brianna smiled, and I hugged her to me. It felt good to talk to her about this. “She sounds like a good mom.”

“She was.” As much as I wanted to continue to hold her like this, I knew we needed to finish with our workouts. I helped her from the bike, and guided us both over to the weights.

Working out with her was a sweet torture. Her body had filled out since she’d come to live with me, and with the workouts, her muscles were tight and toned in all the right places. It was an exercise in control to be with her like this and keep my hands to myself. Instinct had me wanting to press her to the floor and ravish her. And although she would probably have welcomed my kisses—my touch—my body was aching for more each and every day. The closer we came, the more my body wanted it.

Last night had been amazing. Her touch did things to me that no other woman’s ever had.

Before I’d entered the lifestyle, I’d tended to go for older women. It was the experience factor, more than anything else, and they were open to experimenting more than girls my age. My first kinky experience had been at seventeen with a woman twice my age. She’d let me spank her and tie her up. I’d loved it, and so had she. Back then, I’d had little understanding of what my enjoyment in that type of sexual play meant.

Things with Brianna were different. I wanted to share all those kinky sex things I loved, but I also wanted her to allow me to love her and take care of her the way she deserved. Feeling her hand around me, rubbing and squeezing my erection in her hand, brought me pleasure beyond the sexual release.

I realized the other night that Brianna was like a virgin in many ways. Yes, she’d had sex many times over, but the natural exploration and comfort level that usually occurred with sexual experience wasn’t there. She’d been used and abused. She’d been a thing, a body, and nothing more. I was opening up a completely new world for her, and so far, even though she was still fearful, she was also enjoying it.

My biggest hurdle was penetration. She was now comfortable with me touching her body. But every time my fingers neared her entrance, she tensed to the point where I knew if I pushed things, it would be emotionally—and possibly physically—painful for her. I didn’t want it to be painful in any way, physical or emotional.

After our workout, I guided her to my shower and we slowly washed each other as we had for the last few nights. She was more at ease with my body now, even when it was in an aroused state. This morning, I wanted it to be about her.

As I had last night, I pressed her up against the tiles of the shower. Water beat down all around us and pebbled on her pale skin.

Her mouth opened eagerly to me as I kissed her and pressed my body against her, letting her feel just how excited she’d made me. I was glad this didn’t scare her anymore. Her trust in me was beyond my comprehension at times. She moaned into my mouth as my hands palmed her breasts and began lifting and tugging on them. The tips of her nipples hardened and she gasped as I took them between my thumb and forefinger and twisted. “How does that feel, Brianna?”

“I don’t... I don’t know,” she said, her breathing heavy.

I did it again, slightly harder this time. “Does it feel good? Bad? Do you feel anything between your legs or in your lower belly when I do it?”

“In my belly. It... it feels... heavy?”

I smiled and went back to kissing her and playing with her breasts. She was soon panting and grasping at my shoulders. Good. That was just where I wanted her.

Slowly, I drifted my right hand down her front, over her stomach, and slid between her legs. The moment my fingers touched her swollen flesh, I felt her tense and whimper.

I pulled back slightly, resting my forehead against hers. “Focus on me. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to make you feel good.” Her lips were pressed together, causing her nostrils to flare with her exaggerated breathing. “Trust me,” I whispered.

She didn’t move for ten very long seconds before taking a deep breath and nodding.

I gave her a quick kiss, thanking her, before continuing to massage her breast with my left hand, molding it, kneading it, and every so often tugging at its hardened tip. I wanted to kiss her again, but I needed to see her eyes. She seemed to do much better with new things if she was consciously aware it was me and no one else.

When she was back to breathing heavily again, I began moving my right hand in tiny circles on the inside of her thigh. In small increments, I edged closer to her center, gauging her reaction. She tensed once again when I reached her moist flesh, but after gazing into my eyes for a moment, relaxed slightly. I knew it was taking effort on her part, and I wanted to reward her for her trust.

Unlike some of the previous times when I’d touched her, she was moist today with more than just water. I could feel her juices coating my hand. Imagining pushing my fingers inside her and feeling that moisture covering them made my penis bob against her thigh, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself.

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