There are some variations, of course, and new kinks that develop along the way, but this is my basic list.
Allie took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse, the heat spreading like wildfire through her system. Her sex was a hot pool of desire. She crossed her legs, found that only made it worse, and uncrossed them.
“Jesus,” she murmured.
It was everything she loved or wanted to try. With Mick attached.
“Tearing the lingerie to shreds as I take it off you . . .”
She might have to climax again right there!
She shook her head.
Pull it together, girl.
She focused once more on her computer screen.
Tell me now if you’re still in this. You are welcome at any time to withdraw, of course, but I want to hear from you now that we are on the same page about the things we want to do together. That having seen my list (which I noticed is very similar to yours), you’re still interested.
You know I have my doubts about this. Not that you’re dragging me kicking and screaming into playing you (not that anyone could, something you would do well to remember), but I have to tell you up front that this is a bit of a mind-fuck for me, and I am damn well not used to it.
I am always in control when I play. I can promise you I will maintain that control with you. Glory in it or fight it, it doesn’t matter. I’m simply telling you how it will be.
I want you to take a little time before you reply. Think it through. Then write back and tell me what your answer is. And again, contact me with any questions or concerns.
Mick
She knew exactly what her answer was. Her body was already screaming it. She typed one word. Yes.
She tapped her nails against the keyboard, waiting to see if he was online. If he would email her back. Several moments passed. She picked up the new cup of coffee she’d poured herself, and sipped. It was cold. How long had she sat there reading and rereading his email?
“Okay,” she said to the empty kitchen, “I can’t sit here all night waiting for his answer.”
She stood and pulled her X-Acto knife from a drawer and moved into the dimly lit living room. There were boxes everywhere and the scent of old furniture, tinged with a bit of lilac that was her aunt Joséphine’s favorite scent, apparently—it was everywhere in the house. She chose a cardboard box marked kitchen, sliced it open and started to pull something wrapped in white paper out of it. Her laptop pinged. She barely remembered to retract the blade of the knife as she hurried back into the kitchen.
Her laptop sat like some glowing temptress on the table. She set the knife down and flexed her fingers before sitting down again and clicking the email open.
A brief but succinct reply. Which, under other circumstances, I might approve of. Here, however, you and I need to communicate.
When we play I will instruct you to answer any questions in the briefest way possible so I don’t inadvertently pull you out of subspace (and trust me, I will take you there). Right now I view this as part of the fight in you. I don’t mind the struggle because I have absolute confidence that I will win. Keep in mind, though, that even though we both see pain as pleasure, it can also be punishment.
We meet this Friday at 8:00 in the evening for your debut at The Bastille. I will pick you up. I will email you again with instructions as to how you should dress for me.
Mick
Dress. For him.
She exhaled a long, hot breath, full of a wild wanting and the innate stubbornness that yearned to argue the point. But this was Mick. How much could she really argue? She’d wanted him—only him—since she was sixteen years old. The only question was, was she truly ready for him?
She pushed her hair from her face, too hot suddenly. Even her robe seemed like too much weight on her shoulders. And the same heat danced almost viciously between her thighs.
She stood, loosening her robe as she moved down the hallway and back into the bedroom. She arrived there naked, tossing the robe onto the end of the bed.
Her toys were still lined up on the smooth sheets. The comforter lay in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. She bit her lip, chose two items and moved into the bathroom.
She reached into the shower and turned it on, made sure the temperature was cool before she stepped in, her toys in hand.
She gasped a little as the cold water hit her heated skin, then let her body melt into it. She closed her eyes, leaned against the pink tiles, enjoying the flow of water over her body. And thought about Mick.
God, the things he’d written in his emails. The list of kinks. His attitude—cocky to the point of arrogance, but the level of command there was staggering. Maybe because it was him. Maybe because he simply was that commanding. Either way, her body was responding like crazy. And despite her earlier orgasms, she needed to come again. Badly.
Mick.
She could imagine him binding her in his ropes, her arms behind her back while he built a harness around her breasts.
“Oh . . .”
She switched on the small bullet vibe and pressed it between the slick folds of her aching pussy. Paused for several moments, enjoying the buzzing vibrations before she pushed it inside.
“Oh!”
It felt so good, pleasure coiling tight, waiting to be sprung free.
He would pinch her nipples once he had her breasts bound. His fingers would be hard and punishing.
“Please, Mick,” she whispered as she turned the other vibrator on—this one a small pink textured vibe. It was long, narrow, but had a powerful buzz she loved.
Squeezing her sex so the bullet would stay put, she touched a fingertip to one hard nipple, squeezed her breast, kneaded it, finally drew out her nipple between her fingers. Then, pinching hard at the base, she touched the tip of the vibrator to her sensitive flesh.
She moaned, did it again, just brushing her taut nipple, the electric shivers running through her body joining with the vibrations deep inside her sex.
Her climax hovered, but she bit it back. For him.
She breathed in, held the air in her lungs, held on as long as she could. But in moments Mick’s face, his words, the shivering vibrators, did their job. She pinched her nipple hard as she came, pleasure exploding in her body, in her head. Stars whirled behind her closed eyelids. Mick’s face was there, his big hands. His deep voice commanding her to come harder.
She did, her hips jerking until she had to press her fingers to her clenching pussy to keep the bullet inside her.
“Oh, God . . . Mick . . .”
Even his name was hot on her lips. And before her climax could fade away, another began, shaking her, making her sob his name.
“Mick!”
The long vibrator slipped from her hand, but it didn’t matter. It was knowing she was going to him, and oh, God, the things he was going to do to her. That alone was enough to make her come.
Finally her body calmed and she pulled the bullet from her sex, switched it off. She sank to her knees on the hard porcelain, trying to catch her breath as the cool water poured over her.
It was never going to be enough. Because it was Mick. Even once they were playing together, when the fantasies in her head were finally brought to life, would that be enough for her?