BINGO! I’ve found it.
“How do you feel about Tuesday nights?” I ask, interrupting some Twilight Zone marathon Edward’s been watching since Sunday night.
I’m sprawled across the couch as usual, my laptop balanced on my thighs and the lower half of my legs casually thrown over the life-size pillow also known as my boyfriend. Edward has a beer in one hand and my toes in the other, and he is happy as a pig in shit.
He spreads his arms as if to encompass our Tuesday night experience. “Is this some kind of trick question?”
“No,” I giggle at his adorably confused expression. “I just wondered if you had any upcoming commitments I don’t know about.”
“Hmm, aside from the three wives and four subs I’m keeping on the side, nope. I’m good!”
I refrain from kicking him in the balls because he’s holding an open beer bottle and I’d never kick him in the balls anyway. Besides, smug Edward is not an unwelcome sight and he knows it.
“Well if you could manage to work around your busy social schedule, I think I’ve found us the perfect painting class.”
Understanding dawns and Edward grins. “Oh yeah? I hope it’s paint by the numbers, or I’m gonna be in major trouble.”
“Don’t worry, the teacher is certified in Elementary Education in addition to Art Therapy, so you should be covered.”
He takes a swig from the bottle. “Sounds perfect. When do we start?”
“A week from today.”
His eyebrows pop up. “So soon?”
I tease his belly button with my big toe. “Whatsamatter, you nervous?”
“Nope. It’ll be fun. Sign us up.”
“Don’t you want to know anything about it?”
“Are you gonna be there?” he asks.
I answer him with a giant smile and leave him to his Syfy channel for a while.
I look up when he runs his cool bottle over the bottoms of my feet. He has that look in his eye, and I know I’m not getting anything else done tonight—except Edward, that is.
“You writing?” he asks.
He grins. “What does that mean?”
“I was just…looking for inspiration.”
“Oh yeah? Looking where?”
“Take off your shirt and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“Ladies first,” he says, setting down his bottle and waiting for me.
I shimmy my tee shirt over my head and toss it in a wadded ball at his face. Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches one arm back over his head in that way guys do, and he yanks off his shirt and throws it across the room.
“Judging from those nipples, I’d say you found what you were looking for.”
I pluck at one of my nipples suggestively, eyeing him the whole time.
“Have I told you lately how much I love that you don’t wear a bra when we’re home?”
“Come here and let me remind you.” He holds his arms out and I can’t crawl into them fast enough. “Don’t forget your laptop, baby. It’s show and tell time.”
Edward props himself up against the arm of the couch and I snuggle onto his lap, surrendering my computer and just melting into his warm chest. His left arm automatically cradles me, and his fingers play at my breasts. Meanwhile, his right hand is clicking through my browser history. My head drops back onto his shoulder and he nuzzles his nose into my throat.
“You don’t mind if I retrace your steps, do you?”
“Nnnnnn.” That’s all I’ve got.
Edward chuckles and nibbles along my neck. “Didn’t think so.”
He’s muttering as he goes backward through all the sites I’ve visited. “Look at these dirty breadcrumbs you left me…love the way your mind works…Jesus, what are you writing?” He pushes the computer down to the opposite end of the couch and immediately sets to unbuttoning my jeans.
I’ve been surfing porn for the last hour with my sexy boyfriend none the wiser right next to me, but now that he knows everything and he’s right there with me, our clothes feel like shackles. My hands grab at his belt while I lift my hips and he yanks down my jeans and thong. His fingers are in my pussy, drilling and pumping and making loud squelching noises that would embarrass me if I weren’t so goddamn horny right now.
He helps me push his jeans under his ass and down his legs and after they clear his knees I lose track of them because my hand is on his engorged cock and I have a singular thought—get this thing inside me.
It seems Edward is thinking along the same lines because he lifts me by the hips suddenly and positions me right over his tip, my back flush with his chest. “Gimme a hand here?” he grunts out, and I spread myself wide open with one hand while guiding him inside with the other.
We both groan obscenely, and Edward starts moving me up and down in his lap.
“Oh, Jesus, baby,” he moans behind me, thrusting upward with his hips as he pulls me down.
My eyes are pinched shut and the videos I’ve just been watching swim across my mind, muddled with the beautiful features of my very own lover. I throw my head back against his shoulder and we move together, turning into one sweaty, undulating muscular mass of need and mutual pleasure.
We sit together in a tangled heap afterward, laughing and caressing each other softly after our brisk romp.
“That was interesting,” he says, his satisfied grin as wide as his whole face.
“And efficient,” I add teasingly.
Edward turns to me, and I sense something shift in him. He cups his hand to my cheek and looks at me intently. “Next time, I promise I’m going to take you gently.”
My heart spills over with emotion as he kisses me, his lips soft and slow and earnest.
No matter that “next time” happens to be play time, which we’ve now moved to Wednesdays.
“We’re getting back to basics tonight, princess. Just you and me, right here at home, working on our two favorite skills—trust and obedience.”
She’s kneeling at the base of my chair at the dining room table, sitting back on her heels, hand-to-opposite-elbow behind her back. We’ve eaten dinner and cleaned up, and I’ve stripped her bare and collared her.
I tip her chin upward so she knows I want eye contact. “You do want to improve in those areas, right?”
“Yes, Master.” When she regards me with her honest brown eyes, I have so much love for her I can’t keep from running my fingers through her long, loose hair.
I crouch down in front of her and pull the ball gag from the pocket of my cargo pants. I pull her head to mine and give her a long, languorous kiss before settling the ball behind her teeth. Her eyes register mild panic and I caress her cheek and speak softly while I fasten the strap at the back of her neck.
“You don’t need to speak tonight. I’m going to be watching you very carefully. You’re mine, and I’m going to take care of you.” Her eyes get slightly teary and I pull her head to my bare chest and just hold her for several minutes, running my fingers through her hair until she breathes easy.
“Okay, princess, let’s get you up on your feet.”
I press the squeak toy into the palm of her hand while I help her up. “This is your safe word. You squeeze this; we stop. Simple as that. Nod your head if you understand.”
Isabella looks much less anxious and she nods once. I walk behind her and cuff her wrists together, letting them rest against her lower back. I see that her shoulders have slumped, and I gently, but firmly, pull them back and press my lips to her ear. “Posture, princess.”
As I step back around to her front, I can see that she has already begun her descent into sub space. Her eyes are glassy and eager. Her nipples are erect and her muscles are tense. Her feet are spread the appropriate distance apart and she’s straining toward my next command.
“The way you look right now, Isabella, just for me…” I start, and she follows my every syllable, “you’re everything I’ve ever hoped for.” I let my fingers glide down her breasts and her tight abdomen, whispering past her smooth, bare pussy. She shudders and waits.
“Trust 101, Isabella.” I pull the blindfold from my pocket and dangle it between us. “Ready?”
She nods once more and takes a deep breath.
“That’s a girl. Just breathe. And feel me.”
I step up right behind her and press my bare chest to her back. I loop the thick mask over her eyes. This one is form-fitting and snug, and there are no ties to come undone or Velcro fasteners to sag. I can trust it to stay put.
I kiss down the side of her neck and run the tips of my fingers down her arms. “I’m right here,” I tell her. “Just you and me.”
I step around to her front, maintaining close skin-to-skin contact.
“Feel me, princess? Because I sure can feel your heat against me.” I widen my stance so our hips line up and I let her feel my erection. She nods.
“Good. Now I want you to lean forward, that’s right, press your nipples right into my chest, push your stomach against mine. Mmm, you feel so good. Okay, now I’m going to walk backwards and I want you to keep this same connection; I want to feel those tits rubbing against my chest and I want your hot pussy to make a big wet mark that I can feel right through my cargo pants. Got it?”
She nods again.
“Don’t worry about slouching. I want you to lean on me. I want you to trust that I’m going to hold you up.”
I haven’t made this easy on Isabella. Gagging her doesn’t necessarily affect the difficulty of the exercise, but it makes her far more vulnerable; it makes her rely on me that much more. There’s a lack of playfulness, too, with the gag. This scene is not about humiliation; she needs to know that I respect her all the more for her willingness to submit so deeply. Having her hands bound behind her most definitely raises the intensity level, but she needs this.
We both need this.
He takes his first step back and I feel my support fall away. It goes against every self-preservation instinct in my body to lean forward, but I force myself to do it anyway. Master praises me lavishly, even stopping after a few steps to hold me tight again.
When we start moving again, it’s different. I’m not fighting anything. I’m just letting go and giving myself over to Master. I press forward, and he’s there. He’s whispering to me nonstop and I feel him—all of him. It’s a dance of sorts, and he’s most definitely leading, but I’m more melding with him than following.
“Let’s switch it up now,” Master directs, spinning me in his arms so that my back is now against his chest. “Lean back, Isabella. Rest your head on my shoulder.”
I do as he’s asked and it quickly becomes apparent to both of us that my hands—and cuffs—are right on line with his zipper. “Didn’t think of that,” he grumbles as we set off again. Though my steps are less certain moving backward, Master is sure-footed and confident. He takes us on a circuit of the room, or so it seems, before stopping, holding, and praising me again.
“You’re ready for the next exercise now,” Master says, unclipping my wrist cuffs from each other. “Down,” he commands, a palm on my shoulder to help me to the floor. I hear a rustling noise and my right wrist is clipped to something. Master’s voice is near my ear; he must be crouched beside me.
“I’ve clipped your wrist to my ankle. I walk; you crawl. Still got your squeaker?”
I hold open my left hand.
“Good girl.” Master pets me tenderly and kisses my cheek. He speaks softly at close range, “This is difficult, so I’m going to give you two free passes, but on the third mistake, you’re going to feel my crop.”
I feel the soft swish of the tiny leather square at my back, but I’m quite sure that’s not what Master means when he says I’ll feel it. A shiver runs through me at the added motivation to do my best.
When he speaks again, it’s the commanding tone I’ve become familiar with, the one I crave. “Heel.”
My coordination is completely off without benefit of my eyesight and I trip up almost immediately.
“One,” Master counts dispassionately. He turns suddenly to the right and fortunately, I sense the move in enough time to shift course. I feel so much more exposed than I did walking against his body. There are walls and furniture and power cords and lamps and—
“Two,” he says in that same neutral tone.
Crap, pay attention, Bella! This is difficult enough without a wandering mind.
Master stops dead. “You’re trying to protect yourself; that’s my job.”
He’s right and we both know it.
“Let me give you something to ponder for a second, Isabella. Are you aware that in order for me to walk you into a wall, I would have to hit it as well—at full force—before you? Do you honestly think I’m about to do that? When I’m trying to get you to trust me, no less?”
A twinge of shame resonates within me, and I realize there was a piece of me, however small, that didn’t put it past Master to do exactly that. I’m glad for the gag because I wouldn’t want to have to answer him right now.
“If that’s not compelling, here’s another way to view your situation: which would you prefer—crawling hand-first into a wall or taking five strokes of my crop?”
The gag renders this question rhetorical as well, but it’s none the less chilling. His ultimatum is clear and so is my commitment to getting this right.
“Heel!” he commands, and I bond with his movements exactly as I had before. He leads me forward and back, in circles and long straight lines that seem impossible in the confines of the apartment. My knees are getting sore and I’m physically exhausted, but the submissive in me is exhilarated.
“I guess I’ll just have to save this for another day,” Master says somewhat regretfully, giving my bottom a quick love tap with his crop. He crouches down in front of me and unhooks the cuffs from both wrists.
“You did really well, princess. A-plus.” He unclips the gag and slips the ball out of my mouth. “How do you feel?”
“Good, Master. Except…my knees...”
“Thanks for telling me.”
I’m assisted to my feet and Master rubs down my thighs and knees. Next thing I know, I’m hoisted onto his back and he instructs me to hold on tight.
“Okay, the ride has come to a complete stop.” I slide her gently down until her feet touch the floor, and she stands patiently waiting for her next command.
“I’ll take your squeak toy now that you have your voice back, not that I anticipate you’re going to safe word tonight.” I take the tiny plastic frog from her and toss it onto her desk. I confused her a bit piggy-backing her around the apartment before leading her down the hallway, so I doubt she realizes we’re standing in her “office,” as she labeled it in her journal entry. It’s the only room with a full-length mirror.
I step around behind her and lift her hands over my head and clasp them together behind my neck. “Don’t let go of me.”
My fingers start a slow descent from her wrists to her elbows, toward her armpits—which I avoid—and then travel inland to her luscious breasts.
“Lean into me, Isabella,” I croon into her ear, just before licking and nibbling on her sweet lobe. I feel her weight shift and the press of her smooth skin against my chest. Her ass presses my zipper painfully against my stiff cock, the one drawback to going commando, but it’s a pain I will happily withstand.
“Do you remember that I promised you ‘gentle’ this time?”
A tiny smile quirks up at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, Master.”
“Here it comes. And I want you to watch every moment so you don’t forget that I kept my promise.”
I lift the blindfold from her eyes and lovingly move the hair out of her eyes. She blinks open in the dim light cast by the small table lamp on the nightstand. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. “Thank you, Master,” she responds, turning my insides to mush.
I answer her with a single command. “Watch.”
She gasps as my long fingers slide across her chest again, covering her breasts and playing at her nipples. I slide one knee between her legs and pry them open further as my left hand glides down her belly. My fingers flutter over her opening, and Isabella sucks in a breath and closes her eyes.
“Watch,” I repeat, spreading her open with one hand while the other makes its journey downward. “Watch me make you come for me.” Her focus darts madly in the mirror from my hands to my eyes and back to my hands again.
With no more force than a whisper of a touch, I press a single finger to her exposed clit. She bites her lower lip and flares her nostrils, and I can see that she’s ready and eager to give me this. I’m watching her face as intently as she’s locked on my finger while it makes the tiniest, softest circles.
“Does that feel good, princess?”
“Yes, Master,” she answers breathily.
“Can you see your pussy? It loves this, Isabella.”
“Look.” I lift my finger away and the normally tiny bud, now engorged and bright pink, throbs at the sudden loss. “It’s like a greedy little flower reaching for the sun.”
Isabella sighs as I return my fingertip and give her the steady friction she yearns for. Her focus falters and flutters to the ceiling.
“Don’t take your eyes off that pussy,” I warn, circling, rubbing, stimulating her to the point of no return. “I can still reach my crop if I need to discipline you, princess.”
Still gripping the back of my neck and leaning into my chest, slick with sweat from our friction, Isabella bobs and grinds against my finger in the front and my stiff cock behind, her low wail lifting higher into the scale as her orgasm takes her.
“God, you’re glorious when you come. Look at that sweet little clit dancing for us!”
Isabella quakes and dips and twists; her tits bounce and her ass grinds into me and her pussy spasms into my hands; she moans and swears and thanks me again and again.
I unlatch her hands and drop them to her sides. I hug my arms around her from behind and she turns her head enough that I can kiss her.
I can see in the mirror that we have matching smiles. “You really don’t want that crop tonight, do you, princess?”
“Not really, Master. I think this was more fun.”
“I’m not nearly done with you yet. I need you to stand on your own for a bit though. Can you do that for me?”
She sighs loudly. “If I have to, I suppose.”
Once I’m convinced that she’s balanced, I slip around in front of her and drop to my knees between her legs. Before she realizes what’s happening, I pull her to my mouth and I hold her against my lips. My eyes flick up to make sure she’s watching. Smart princess she is, she doesn’t need a reminder. Her eyes are glued to my mouth.
I lap gently at her opening, tasting her recent release on my tongue. Her skin is still perfectly smooth from the waxing, and I lavish her with kisses everywhere, loving how she feels and tastes. When she starts moaning again, my cock sends me a message in no uncertain terms: My turn.
Isabella giggles as I struggle to release my button and zipper while still lapping away inside her. I stroke myself a few times before succumbing. I deliver a final nibble before standing up and kicking off my pants.
She eyes me hungrily as I move behind her once again. “Put your hands against the mirror,” I instruct her, supporting her as she tips forward.
I drop kisses along her back as I line up behind her. I clamp one hand around the back of her neck while the other guides us together. I push inside her with a long, grateful groan and my eyes meet hers in the mirror. I tap lightly on her pussy. “Keep your eyes right here.”
“Yes, Master,” she agrees, dropping her eyes to where my cock is now thrusting rhythmically, in and out. I cover her back with my warm body and press my palm to the mirror next to hers so I don’t crush her.
Gentle, gentle, I remind the beast that threatens to break free.
We move together; I pump as gingerly as I’m able, and my hand on her neck holds her to me so she doesn’t end up sailing into the glass. Her eyes are cast downward, as Master ordered, and I’m riveted on her expression—her jaw lax, her eyes pinched and wild, her cheeks pink and hot. Our soft, individual grunts become louder, shared groans until soon, we’re making so much noise I almost wonder what the neighbors must be thinking.
“We’re going to come together now, Isabella,” I gut out in choppy pieces. I push deep inside her with every upward thrust, teasing the spot I know will set her off. “Let go, princess. Now!”
I pull her to me tightly and my head drops to her shoulder as I buck and release inside her. Seconds later, as I struggle for air, her inner walls clamp down all around me, squeezing out every last drop of my orgasm.
We’re a heaving, panting lump of exhausted, spent tension. I lift Isabella’s sweaty hair off her neck and unclip her heavy collar. “I bet that’s a relief,” I say, tossing the moist velour onto the bed.
“Never,” she answers, turning her head to fix me with a serious stare.
I blow cool air onto her neck, disengage my lower half from hers and turn her for a proper kiss. “I love you, Isabella.”
“I love you too, Edward.”
I do have to admit, it’s wonderful not to feel compelled to rush out of bed the next morning. Having three full days until we play again gives me plenty of time to think about my journal entry, respond to whatever comments come in from the last one, and consider what it might be like to have Marcus as my mentor.
My Master’s mentor Marcus maybe as my mentor. Yeah, I might be a little giddy.
That doesn’t stop my body from waking before the alarm, but it does allow me the luxury of burrowing under the covers and teasing Edward a bit, always a worthwhile activity.
Even sound asleep, Edward has no problem sporting a morning sapling, and one hot breath along the surface converts it to full-fledged wood. I love that he’s so easy and always sleeps in the nude. It makes nuzzling him so much easier, not to mention leaving hot, wet kisses in all the little nooks and crannies and finally waking him up by swallowing him down to the back of my throat.
I settle in, resting my cheek on his hip bone and gripping him tightly with one hand as my mouth slips up and down his shaft. He’s not even pretending to be asleep at this point, gathering my hair into one hand and holding it twisted out of my way. His legs fall open in lazy invitation, yet he’s totally undemanding and from the sounds he’s making, enormously grateful. A ripple of joy wends its way down my spine as I inhabit Edward’s pleasure. He lets me know when he’s getting close by clenching his thighs and gripping my hair a bit tighter, and though I’m buried in layers of sheets and covers, I can’t miss his low grunting as it escalates into a full-fledged groan at release.
As I swallow down the last spurts, he throws off the covers and sighs a big, contented, happy sigh. “And a good morning to you, my perfect girlfriend.”
I nestle into his side and dance my fingers over his chest. “We should play hooky today,” I blurt, surprising myself. In all my years, I’ve never called in sick without a valid medical issue, and I know I’m all talk now, but it feels really good just to toss out the idea as if we really could just loll around all day.
Edward smiles and tips his chin down to see if I’m serious. “You’re not sick of me yet?”
“How could I be? You’re never the same guy twice.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s all good, Edward. Like you said, it’s all you. I just get to peek into a different window every day.”
“Hey, um, speaking of days…it just occurred to me that we recently passed the one month mark, and you haven’t had your period yet.”
“Nope.” I was beginning to wonder when he’d notice. “I haven’t had my period in a few years now.”
“And that’s okay?”
“Yes, according to my doctor, it’s more than fine.”
I knuckle him in the side. “I didn’t just spoil some kinky blood play thing for you, did I?”
“No. Blood’s fine when it stays inside the body.”
“Why, Edward Cullen, are you squeamish?”
“You may not have noticed this, Isabella, but I don’t really enjoy things that are out of my control. Medical stuff is way outside my comfort zone…aside from a good game of Dr. Feelgood, that is.”
How he manages to go from shaky to sexy in a matter of a few words is one of the many wonders I love unraveling. “Dr. Feelgood? Really?”
“Mmhmm,” he answers, dead serious. He rolls up onto his side and places his palm on my forehead. “Didn’t you say you were feeling a bit under the weather, Miss Swan?”
“Holy shit, you’re gonna make that hot as fuck, aren’t you?” I giggle at the utter delight in his eyes.
I slither out of his grip and leave him to flop over onto his belly, reminding me of the fish that Dad would unhook from my line and toss back into the pond. Catch and release, I smile to myself as I step under the hot shower and ready myself for the day ahead.