Page 2 of Intimate

“Taste,” I told her.

Without hesitating, Steffie drew her fingers to her mouth and painted the wetness of herself across her lips like glossy lipstick. She sucked her finger clean and went limp on the tangled sheets, her skin glistening with the sheen of her perspiration, her hair damp at her brow.

I told her she was beautiful and then cupped my hand over the mound of her pussy. Steffie groaned because she knew what would come next. What I was about to take from her.

Should I go on? Should I keep telling you about Steffie and that afternoon we spent together?

I feel like I’m neglecting you, and I don’t want that to happen. In fact, I want you to be aroused in the same way that Steffie was.

Would you touch yourself for me now?

Do you want to?

Do it for me.

I want to watch you, just like I watched Steffie on my bed.

I really do.

I need you to feel what she felt, experience the exact same sensations of intimate privacy, sharing the moment with someone who wants only to sense the joy of your pleasure.

Intimacy and seduction.

In the meantime I will sit here in silence for a few moments and watch your face, see your mouth fall open in a tiny breathless gasp as your fingers brush across the secret heat of your pussy.

I won’t say a word. I won’t interrupt.

Be a good girl for me…touch yourself while I watch – and then we can continue.

* * *

Arrogance isn’t arousing – it’s confronting. It’s crude. It substitutes the connection between a man and a woman – a Master and a submissive – and replaces intimacy with conceit. A man with an arrogant attitude towards women and their sexuality won’t make it as a Master… and won’t keep a submissive’s trust and loyalty for long.

Why?

Because in missing the essential emotional connection required for a healthy BDSM relationship, an arrogant Master usually thinks a submissive is a replaceable accessory to his will.

Does that make sense?

Put yourself in the shoes of a submissive who serves an arrogant man who is interested only in his own pleasure, his own satisfaction. Imagine shrinking away from your own desires and needs just when you want more than anything else to explore your sexuality and discover those aspects of the lifestyle that deeply resonate with you.

An arrogant Master thinks a submissive can be substituted – and if they can, then it was never a healthy relationship.

Sorry. That wasn’t intended to be a rant, because I didn’t come here to lecture. I came here to tell you my intimate stories and to seduce you.

Forgive me.

I was just watching you from over here in the shadows, mesmerized by the way your eyebrows move and that erotic little thing your mouth does while you were touching yourself, and my mind drifted back to Steffie.

I was thinking about how we came together, and the terrible time she had searching for a man she could trust.

When we found each other, it was like fuel and fire – explosive.

That summer’s afternoon in my bedroom was the catalyst for the entire relationship that followed. Maybe that’s why I think of her so often at night – and why I can recall in such vivid detail each moment and every shared sensation as my hand that was cupped over her pussy began to gently massage, and Steffie began to grind herself against my palm.

I was hard – turned on by how easily Steffie had shed her inhibitions and was responding to my instructions and touch. Without instruction she rolled over on the bed and came up onto her hands and knees. I slid the blindfold from her eyes. Her bottom was the shape of a perfect love heart, the lace of the suspenders stretched tight over her flawless flesh. I flicked the retaining clips open between my thumb and forefinger and my breath came out as a low hungry growl. Steffie glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes solemn and enigmatic. She drew the pink tip of her tongue across her lips and then lowered her head until it was propped on a pillow. She arched her back and her knees came wide apart. I dropped to my haunches behind her and slowly – deliciously – drew my tongue up along the silken folds of her pussy. Steffie gasped and then clenched her body rigid. The taste of her on my tongue was warm like honey. I licked her again and again until she began to rock her hips and sway her body back to meet my touch.

Which was exactly when I stopped, rose to my feet, and then ran my hand, stiff as a paddle, across a cheek of her bottom. Steffie knew instinctively what was about to happen, and understood why I was punishing her.

She said she was sorry. She asked me to forgive her, making her eyes huge and tragic.

“Keep count,” I said ominously. “You should know better. I touch you how and when I want. It’s not for you to decide. You don’t set the agenda – you respond.”

I paddled her bottom with my hand until each cheek was burning bright red, and the crimson imprint of my fingers blazed across the pale skin.

By the eighth spank, Steffie wasn’t flinching any more, she was moaning softly into the pillow, stifling the raw sounds in the back of her throat and muffling her voice as she called out each slap. By the last stroke I was rubbing my hand tenderly across her flesh, salving the skin with caresses that had dipped between the juncture of her thighs and flicking my fingers across the pouting soft lips of her sex. The punishment had transformed into something deeply sensual and the wetness of her was an irresistible tease. I went to the window and drew the drapes, then stepped out of my jeans.

My cock felt as hard and hot as an iron bar drawn from the fires of a furnace. Steffie suddenly tensed. She lifted her face from the pillows and turned her head. Her hands made tight fists in the sheets as I slid myself slowly inside of her.

My fingers went to her hips and then I slid the palm of my hand up along the knotted ridges of her spine. Steffie arched her back. I dug my clawed hands into the soft flesh of her shoulders.

I can still remember the way Steffie moaned for those first few seconds that I was slowly sliding the length of my cock deep inside her; the way her whole body tensed, the slow undulation of her back and her hips as though internally she was adjusting and accommodating me. Then, when I was deep inside her, our bodies joined, she hung her head so that her hair fell forward across her face like a veil and she swayed there, braced on her hands and knees with her breasts spilling from out of the cups of her corset. I didn’t move for the longest time. I was savoring the sensations – the tight gripping feel of her pussy, the warmth and tautness of her. When I drew myself back and then thrust forward for the first time, we both groaned.

Suddenly the lines for me between sex and power blurred. Just moments before I was burning on pure lust and desire. Steffie was arched, spread, ready and very willing. But now, with myself deep inside her, I instinctively wanted more. I wanted her to be a part of what happened next, not just a willing object for my own satisfaction.

You get that right? As a woman there must have been plenty of times in your life when the sex became just about the man – you were there but were forgotten as he grunted single-mindedly towards his own release. It’s a common complaint I hear a lot from women. So many other men just seem to rush towards their climax and disregard the lady…

Anyhow, in that moment with Steffie I suddenly realized. A door of understanding opened wide for me and I stepped through. Even in this most aggressive position, I didn’t want the sex to be for my pleasure – somehow I had to draw out Steffie’s own orgasm.

We began to move together, her body rocking and responding to each measured thrust of my hips. I was trying to read her movements, trying to understand what felt good for her. Each deep lunge was met by a throaty groan, but the short teasing thrusts of my cock seemed to spark new flares of energy from her. I began to tease her with shorter, faster strokes. My hands fisted into the tangles of her hair and I pulled so that her face was lifted and her head thrown back. I could see a part of our reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was wide open, and her eyes s

crewed tightly shut. I could see the tremble in her tensed arms and the more urgent sway of her breasts and they kept beat with the rhythm of my hips.

I told Steffie to imagine she was being watched by other men. I told her to visualize herself on her hands and knees in the middle of a spot-lit stage. Gathered around her in the smoke-filled shadows were strangers – other men – their eyes hungrily watching her, growling their appreciation for the beauty of her.

Steffie’s breathing became sharper – more urgent, and she began to rock back on my cock, using me for her pleasure. Suddenly the whole dynamic had changed. I had found a secret key to her personality, and by turning that key I had hit upon the touchstone that elevated the sex we were sharing into something profoundly erotic.

Steffie wanted those men in her imagination to desire her. She wanted each of the strangers she was visualizing behind her closed eyes to be overcome with lust. She wanted them to see her cum.

Her movements became more frantic, more urgent and our bodies crashed together like we were racing towards the peak of a mountain top. Beads of sweat squeezed out across my brow and ran in rivulets down my chest. Steffie’s body glistened with the satin sheen of her perspiration. Suddenly the breath was seizing in my throat and Steffie began to twist her hips. I let go of her hair and she tossed her head from side to side. We were rocking together like two people in a small boat on a raging sea. Steffie cried out and it was the sound of her release – a raw primeval sound without any coherent form; the sound of her plunging into the abyss.

I came an instant later, my own orgasm seemingly wrenched from me by the frantic convulsing grip of Steffie’s pussy. I threw my head back, saw the ceiling sway and blur. Sweat stung my eyes and at last the breath I had been holding was torn from me in a sound like a growl…

That was the nature of our relationship in those early days Steffie and I shared together – more playfulness than serious BDSM lifestyle. In fact, it was as much about exploring each other’s minds and desires than it was about dominance and submission. Those other aspects developed over time as Steffie’s confidence and trust grew, and as her inhibitions were tenderly and thoughtfully explored and then peeled away.

I learned a lot from that relationship – and not all that I learned had anything to do with the art of being a Master. Much of it was about learning to be a man.

I learned about the importance of foreplay for a woman – the need to build a sense of desire through anticipation… and I learned about the value of exploring fantasy.

The key to releasing a woman’s sexuality is to understand her secret fantasies.

I actually wrote that line down on a scrap of paper several years ago and put it in a desk drawer. I found the note today, the page a little dog-eared, the paper now faded. I read it again before I came to visit you tonight because I have been thinking about you.

A lot…

I can’t say the relationship with Steffie ended too soon because it didn’t, in hindsight. It ended at the exact right time. For me, I was soon to meet another young lady, someone thrilling and spectacular, and for Steffie… well I honestly don’t know. I never saw her again but when we parted she said she was happy. I hope she is today…

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