Page 17 of Disgrace

“No, Sir.” She exhales a shaky breath as I pull back onto my haunches. Her mouth parts, and I place my two middle fingers on her lips. Her tongue darts out, a quick inspection before retreating.

“Open your mouth. Make my fingers wet.” I slip them inside, and can’t help the groan that escapes the back of my throat when she wraps her hot tongue around my digits, twisting and pulling them deeper into her mouth. When I pull them free, my cock twitches painfully like a fucking jealous bitch, and all I can do is endure. Agony and blue balls will have to wait. My focus is her…re-educating Selina and seducing Sam. I drag my wet fingers lightly down the centre of her body. Skimming the indent in her collarbone and the swell and dip between her breasts. I lightly touch her belly button, which makes her catch her breath but she lets out a much deeper exhale when I slide once more inside her heat. I waste no time following my fingers with my mouth. My tongue swirls her clit, flicking lightly, at the same time, curling my fingers deep and stroking the soft flesh inside. She instantly tenses, but then she’s already soaking from having my fingers inside her before so I’m not really surprised she’s taut and just about ready to explode. I soften the movement of my fingers. I don’t want her climbing too quickly, but I don’t want her crashing over the edge, either. It’s all about balance.

She holds remarkably still because I know from the short, panting breaths and her little angry sighs she is frustrated as hell. I sweep my tongue flat with firm pressure from the tip of her nub of nerves to where my fingers sink into her soft centre. She’s so damn wet, and I can’t get enough of her taste. My lips cover her, and I suck and mouth, pulling her folds gently between my lips, grazing her clit with my teeth and pump harder with my fingers, building her pleasure, teasing her higher and higher. Her muscles twitch against my fingers, her tummy clenches with the need to roll her hips against my hand. At the first tilt of her pelvis, I relax and pull away.

The little heartfelt cry that escapes the back of her throat almost has me helping her out, but I wouldn’t want her thinking I’msweet. Her jaw is clenched and her fists, resting on her knees are curled, white-knuckle tight. Her sweet little body is resisting the inevitable loss of her climax with tiny judders and spasms. I blow cool air on her core and she nearly kicks me in the head with her convulsion, throwing her bent legs out straight. I duck quickly enough but pull them flat to either side of me for safety.

I scooch down for round two. I deliberately take a little longer this time, pausing almost every minute because I can feel her instant response to every touch, every swirl of my tongue, even the warm air I puff from my nose has her climbing. She fails to hold back her cry this time, and I am glad she can’t see my shit-eating grin because that would probably make her mad.

She’s strong and sassy, bright and resourceful, every inch a first class Domme, and the last thing I want is to make her mad. I want her pliant, agreeable, but more than my next breath, I want her as my sub.

She attempts to control her breathing, and I give her a little time to recover. My hands sweep up her legs, along her sides, over the perfect swell of her breasts, skimming her skin with feather-light touches, trying to cool the searing heat that is colouring her flawless skin. She’s on fire, and her body continues to tremble with pent up pleasure.

“How you doing, beautiful?” I watch her nod her head but squeeze her lips flat, biting back any chance of sound. “I asked you a question, Sam.” My tone has a bite, which instantly grounds her and reminds her of her job.

“I’m good, thank you, Sir.” She swallows thickly and once more bites her lips flat.

“Only good?” I strum my fingers idly on the inside of her thigh.

“I’m very…frustrated, Sir.”

“I’ll bet. Still think I’m sweet?” She snorts out an uncontrollable laugh, and it’s my turn to bite my lips to stop myself from laughing. She is trying so hard, and her lapses, instead of requiring a punishable intervention for breaking protocol, I find adorable.

“Sorry Sir, forgive me. I don’t find you sweet…well, I do, but not right now.” She rushes to make amends and clarify.

“Is that so?” I trace my tongue up her inner thigh along the crease where the top of her leg meets her apex. I sweep my tongue up her centre and swirl in little circles over her clit. The tiny patch of hair, waxed with precision into a narrow landing strip hides a puzzle piece tattoo. I hadn’t noticed before but I am guessing that is the point.Interesting. I pause for a moment tracing my finger over the ink, not much bigger than my thumb and almost entirely covered by the hair. I’m distracted enough to realise she hasn’t answered my question. She’s holding her breath, feeling my gaze and the weight of my own unasked question. But it would be unfair to ask her now. Now shehasto answer me. She’s trusted me enough to open up about her past; I want to give her the choice to open up some more.

“Sam?” My tone a reminder to us both.

“Yes…sorry, yes Sir. I don’t think you’re sweet. Would you like me to tell you what Idothink you are?” I close my eyes. That mouth will be the death of me…death by blue balls.

“That depends. How long would you like me to continue?” She shudders and gasps when I sink my tongue deep and clamp my lips tight around her clit.

“Ah…ah…I-I don’t want you to continue any longer than you said please, Sir.” She puffs out sharp, steadying breaths when I pull back. “Sorry, Sir,” she adds, but it sounds more like a plea. I push my fingers inside. Her folds are swollen, and her needy nub pulses with the rush of blood surging through her veins. She is so ready to fall with maybe one, two thrusts of my fingers. My thumb applies a little pressure below her clit and rocks up in a gentle motion but it’s enough. Her muscles clamp around my fingers, her thighs twitch and I pull right back. Her whole body sags on a whimper.

“Apology accepted.”

“You’re very good at this aftercare thing.” She sighs heavily and sinks back against my chest. The warm, bubbly water swishes around her breasts. Soft peaks of foam dot the other exposed parts of her body and mine. I may have rubbed and massaged every inch of her body, but this isn’t my standard aftercare routine. I just can’t keep my hands off her.

“I’m glad you think so.” I scoop a handful of ginger scented water high and dribble small amounts like a waterfall, trying to hit one of her perfectly perky nipples. I repeat and try the other side, too. I’m all about balance.

“Is this official downtime?” She tilts her head to the side and lifts her chin. I know she’s asked a good question, but I cover her mouth with mine, pulling her hair gently. She tries to slip onto her front, but my solid thighs clamp tight to prevent her—a tricky task given how slippery she is. She groans with frustration.

“I think until we establish some rules and protocols outside of a scene, I believe it’s safe to assume all our time is downtime. What with your sassy mouth and all.” I tease and tweak her nipple at the same time.

“Ha! Sassy mouth. You really have no idea.” She scoffs her interruption.

“Exactly my point.” I pinch the other nipple for emphasis. She falls quiet with my sterner observation. “I want to go easy, so we will need some guidelines or your arse is going to be red and raw,” I add for clarification but press a kiss into her hair to soften my previous statement. This is new for both of us and doubly difficult for her, I believe, so I need to take it slow. She tilts her pelvis and slides her smooth arse the length of my ever present, rock-hard cock.

“And who says that’s not exactlymypoint?” she purrs, and I growl, my fingers flying to her hips to stop the torture.

“Sam,” I warn, and she stills in my hands.

“Sorry,” she breathes out, but is suddenly too quiet.

“Sam?”

“You did go easy on me. Thank you, and I did love it but…”

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