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  Fleur’s arousal grew. She panted, squeezing her pussy muscles. She wished he would—what? Touch her. She wanted him to stroke her clit.

  “Please, Sir, could you…?”

  “What, Fleur?”

  “I want you to touch me, Sir.” There, the words were out. Well, he did say she had to articulate her needs. He had even taught her the words he preferred to use. She intended to prove a diligent pupil in the short time that she would have him as her tutor.

  “Do you? Where? How?”

  “My clit, Sir. Please.”

  “How polite you are. I always find it amazing how a finger in her arse will do wonders for a sub’s manners. Not that you were ever rude, Fleur.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t oblige you. My hands are full just now. I don’t want you collapsing at my feet. Not quite yet.”

  “I… I see, Sir.” Obvious, really. How could she not have realized this?

  “But I’ve no objection if you want to touch yourself. I have your weight, you could do it.”

  “I don’t know if I can, Sir. I mean, I don’t usually…”

  “Now might be an excellent time to learn. Stroke your clit, Fleur. Do it now.”

  Later, she would recall the subtle shift between permission and instruction. Subtle, but utterly compelling. Being told she could, if she wanted to, was one thing and she might comply. Or she might choose not to. But an instruction—now that was entirely different.

  Do it now. The absolute authority in those three words flicked a switch in her brain, and without further ado, Fleur shifted to lean on her left hand. Her right she lifted to her throbbing clit, instinctively taking the swollen bud between her thumb and forefinger. She rubbed, squeezing lightly. The sensation crackled through her core, igniting her nervous system.

  “Oh, Sir…”

  “Did you know you could do that?”

  “No, Sir. I could not, before…”

  “I think you could. You just never have. Do it now. Do what pleases you. Enjoy.”

  Fleur needed no further urging. She continued to rub her clit, experimenting with side-to-side motion, then stroking from front to back. Her pleasure built and grew, her inner muscles clamping down hard. She slid her finger along her clit, back toward her pussy and carried on going, thrusting it between her pussy lips and deep inside her.

  “Mmm, does that feel good?”

  “Oh yes, Sir, it does. Thank you.”

  “Try a second finger too. More contact. Are you close?”

  Fleur heeded his advice, slipping a second finger alongside the first. A good move, he was right. She remembered his question. “Close, Sir?”

  “Close to coming. Orgasm.”

  “Yes, I am. Oh, Sir…” A wave of pure pleasure shot through her, setting her nerve endings alight. Fleur’s legs were no longer supporting her weight at all, as Ethan tightened his arm around her and stepped up the pace of his thrusts. Fleur managed to synchronize her own movements to his, instinctively falling into step. She quickly realized that by pressing the heel of her hand on her clit she could create the friction there that she needed to make her pleasure complete. Moments later, her orgasm gripped and spun her, her senses whirling away as she clenched hard around her fingers and his, shivering uncontrollably.

  The climax passed almost as quickly as it had burst upon her, leaving Fleur a little stunned. Whatever she’d expected as she’d knocked on Ethan’s door, it had not been this. Or had it? She had told him she wanted to be made to do strange, unprecedented things, to be used, her body not her own. Was this not a taste of exactly that? It may have been her own fingers doing some of the work, but he had orchestrated the whole thing. He instructed and she obeyed.

  “Upstairs now, I think.” His voice seemed to come from a long way off. Fleur was dimly aware that he had withdrawn his fingers from her anus—arse. She pulled her own fingers from her vagina and braced herself fully against the table again, intending to make an attempt to stand upright. She was not optimistic, but if he wanted her upstairs…

  Then it was all out of her hands. Ethan bent and slipped his now free arm under her legs and picked her up. Cradling her in his arms, he headed for the stairs.

  He laid her on the bed, rolling her gently onto her back. Fleur opened her eyes to watch him move around the room. He went into the en suite bathroom, scene of yesterday’s rose petal experience, and she heard water running. He is washing his hands. He came back into the room and she watched as he adjusted lamps and opened drawers. He seemed to be looking for something.

  Scarves. The gorgeous cashmere scarves he’d purchased yesterday, to be exact. He found them in one of the drawers of the dresser and came toward the bed. He dropped them beside her, his eyes holding her gaze evenly. The question clear. He waited, allowing her the opportunity to back out even now.

  She had no intention of doing so. Fleur lifted her hands, placing them behind her head, close to the slatted headboard, her invitation clear.

  Ethan took a scarf and looped it around her right wrist. He secured it to the headboard, then repeated with the left. He slipped his fingers into the loops too, apparently testing them.

  “Is that comfortable? It should be tight enough to keep you still, but not painful at all.”

  “It feels fine, Sir.”

  “Good. Close your eyes, please.”

  A blindfold. Fleur was less at ease with this, but lowered her eyelids obediently. The soft cashmere brushed her face as Ethan laid it across her eyes and reached under her head to secure it in place. The bed dipped beside her as he sat. She turned her head in the direction she knew he must be, her heart setting up a furious rhythm as nerves started to take over. She had wanted this, but the reality seemed more intense than she had anticipated. Not that she had allowed herself much time to contemplate what might be about to happen. She had just dove straight in.

  He cupped her cheek, stroking her face with his fingers. The gesture was soothing, as she knew he intended. Soft lips brushed hers, the tip of his tongue tracing the shape of her mouth.

  “I won’t hurt you, but we need a safe word. Cashmere, I think. That’s your word for ‘stop’. And for slow down I think we’ll have…fountain. Okay with those?”

  “Yes. Those words are fine.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His tone was not in the least angry but she could clearly detect the thread of steel that told her she’d earned additional punishment. Fleur chewed on her lower lip, her nerves back with a vengeance. What had she been thinking?

  “I apologize, Sir.”

  “That’s quite all right, Fleur. You’re learning and doing very well. We can settle everything tomorrow, as I promised.”

  “You are scaring me, Sir.”

  “You asked me to, if I recall correctly. Have you changed your mind?”

  Fleur lay still, drawing in deep breaths, even, steadying breaths. She fought to bring her rampaging heartbeat back under control. She didn’t want to change her mind, had no wish at all to stop. But this was hard, harder than perhaps she’d anticipated. She’d been fine until the blindfold, but now, in the dark, everything seemed magnified.

  “No, Sir, I don’t want to stop. But, could you take off the blindfold?”

  “The blindfold stays. Do you?”

  Silence.

  Fleur gnawed on her lip again, her battle with herself rather than with Ethan, or the blindfold. Was she about to fail, right at the outset?

  “Remember your safe words. Both of them. You can ask to slow down, ask me to help you.” The low voice came from close by, the words murmured directly into her ear. His very proximity steadying her.

  “Fountain,” Fleur whispered the word, not sure what the outcome would be.

  She shivered as Ethan trailed his hand down her chest, between her breasts to her stomach. There he rested his hand, his fingers lightly brushing her skin. “Tell me what scares you about the blindfold.”

  “I’m not sure, it makes me f
eel uneasy. Insecure.”

  “You are absolutely safe here, with me. Do you believe that?” He moved his fingers against her stomach again, reminding her of his presence at her side.

  “Yes, Sir, I do.” Her response was quick and certain. She did feel safe.

  “So…”

  “I am afraid of the dark, Sir. A little bit.”

  “A little bit? Are you always afraid or just when you’re alone in the dark?”

  Fleur thought about that and her response was an honest one. “I am always scared, Sir, but not so much when I am not on my own.”

  “Are you scared of the dark now? Right at this moment?”

  She hesitated, then, “No, Sir.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You are here, touching me, talking to me. I can feel you. I can hear your voice.”

  “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do. I’ll be touching you and talking to you a lot of the time in any case, but if at any point you feel yourself panicking just say fountain. I will be here. I won’t leave you alone, even for a moment, but if you need to hear me, to feel me, and know you’re not alone, just ask me. So, can we continue?”

  Fleur smiled, her pleasure genuine. When she had said she wanted to be pushed to do things she’d never thought possible, she had no idea she might also be taking steps toward conquering her lifelong fear of the dark. It seemed that submission was a many-faceted jewel.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan was aware the moment she started to relax, to believe in this, in him, and in herself. He didn’t usually play with inexperienced submissives but he had on occasions, and he recognized that moment when fear and doubt might not fall away, exactly, but the reality of the situation came into the ascendancy. It was a sort of ‘I’m here, this is happening, and I’m still all right’ moment. Fleur had just experienced hers, though she may not recognize it for herself for some time yet.

  Ethan’s plans for the scene were pretty clear and his plans for tomorrow were crystallizing fast. When he’d told Fleur he wouldn’t hurt her tonight, he’d meant it. Whatever she might say, she did not need pain on this first excursion into his lifestyle. No, tonight was for removing barriers, for conquering inhibitions, and perhaps a phobia or two. Tonight he would push back Fleur’s boundaries to make tomorrow possible.

  His intention was to lead her to a point where she would accept his touch without question or resistance, comfortable in her own skin and content to let him handle her as he pleased, to know her body intimately. They were already a long way down that road. She was an enthusiastic learner. Now he wanted her to become even more keenly aware of her body, its sensitivity, its power to bring her joy.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  Fleur shook her head. Ethan wasn’t having that. She needed fluids. He reached for the bottle of water beside the bed and snapped the cap open. Fleur jumped, startled by the sound.

  “What was that?”

  “Just me opening a bottle of water. Here, take a sip.”

  “I am fine.”

  “Just a few drops.” He placed the neck of the bottle by her mouth, trickling a small amount of the cool water onto her lips.

  Fleur licked them quickly, swallowing the water.

  “More?”

  She nodded, and he poured a few more drops onto her lips. Her mouth opened fully so he placed the bottle in her mouth for her to suck.

  “Enough?”

  “Yes, thank you, Sir. I was thirstier than I had thought.”

  “I’ve noticed submissives tend to become rather dry-mouthed. Especially when they’re new to the lifestyle.”

  “Is it a lifestyle? I had not thought of it in that way.”

  “For some of us it is. You’ll have to make up your own mind. So, feeling calmer now?”

  “I am, thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re most welcome, Fleur. Ready to play?”

  “Yes, Sir, I am ready.”

  “Okay, so here’s how it works tonight. I’m going to touch you with my hands, my tongue, my lips, and if you’re very well behaved, perhaps with my cock. I won’t hurt you. You have my promise on that. Your job is to lie perfectly still. I’m already helping you with that to an extent by tying you up, but you’re not immobilized. Your legs are free and will remain so. You’ll still have to concentrate on not moving. And—don’t orgasm either.”

  “But I—”

  “It won’t be easy. We’ve already established what a slut you are. But you’re going to try very hard. Exercise a little willpower—or won’t power—whichever suits. By way of an incentive, if you manage not to come until I give you permission, I won’t double your punishment tomorrow. If you do, then whatever spanking you’ve earned by then will be doubled—either twice as hard, or twice as many spanks. But I’m a generous Dom, so you can choose which it is. So, do you understand your instructions, Fleur, and the consequences of not obeying?”

  He waited, watching the play of emotions across her face. Consternation, anxiety. Determination. She took her time considering her response, and he found he liked that about her.

  At last, “I think I do, Sir.”

  Ethan smiled to himself, still resting his hand lightly in her stomach where it had been since her little wobble a few minutes earlier. Now he trailed it up, across her ribs and cupped her left breast in his palm.

  “Beautiful. Your nipples are so hard and red like cherries.”

  He rubbed his thumb across the taut peak, and Fleur arched under his hand.

  “I told you to remain still. Was that not perfectly clear?”

  “I am sorry, Sir, I didn’t realize—”

  “If I want you to move, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you remain absolutely still. Any questions?”

  “Have I…? I mean, is my punishment doubled now? Already?”

  “No. That only happens if you come without permission. But wriggling when you’ve been expressly told not to will earn you extra spanks, as would any act of disobedience or forgetting your instructions. You’ve reached eight now.”

  He watched as her chest rose and fell and could feel the slight rise in tempo of her heart under his hand. She was starting to understand, he thought, that this would be far from easy.

  “I see. Thank you, Sir—for explaining, I mean.”

  “You’re welcome.” He was amused to see her bottom lip getting another worrying as he returned to his task, rolling her hard little nipple between his finger and thumb. He’d promised her gentle, no pain, so he wouldn’t squeeze, tug or twist, though he fully intended to do all of that and more tomorrow. To her credit, Fleur managed to lie perfectly still, even when he leaned in to take her nipple between his lips and scrape it with his teeth. He heard her gasp, though, and knew she was already struggling.

  Pain was relatively easy to bear, he’d generally observed, with a little practice. Endorphins were a wonderful evolutionary gift to the BDSM lifestyle. Pleasure, though, was different. Endorphins were no help there. Pleasure just had to be mastered the hard way. Fleur was about to learn this.

  Easing his long body onto the bed alongside Fleur, Ethan continued to tease her nipples mercilessly. He used his tongue, his lips, his teeth, his fingers to work the sensitized nubs ceaselessly as Fleur stiffened beneath his ministrations. She was a chaotic turmoil of mixed emotions. He could feel the tension in her body as plainly as the arousal apparent in her pebbled tips. She was utterly rigid, her body locked in place as much by the sheer force of her will as by his cashmere scarves. Her concentration was absolute, on him, his delicate manipulation of her body and her own determination to suppress her response.

  From time to time, she whimpered, the sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. He hadn’t instructed her to be silent so he made no comment on that. Perhaps tomorrow, though probably not—he found he liked her helpless vocalizations.

  “Please, Sir, this is very difficult. How much longer will you want me to…?”

  “Until I tell you differently. Or you safe word.” He might have added s
ome further instruction about accepting his treatment without complaint, certainly he would have had she been even slightly more experienced, but he felt on balance she was doing fine. And so was he.

  Fleur continued to gnaw on her lip, her head tilted back as though seeking intervention from a higher power. She’d learn that he was the high power in this room. Unless she opted to take hers back, but he felt that unlikely.

  Content that he’d coaxed her nipples to their fullest, hardest, most erect response, Ethan turned his attention to the rest of Fleur’s body. She lay with her legs stretched out on the bed, her knees clamped rigidly together. He could have secured her ankles when he had tied her to the bed, forced her to part her legs, but he intended her to spread her thighs for him willingly. She would, he knew, if—when—instructed.

  He nibbled his way down her slightly rounded stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel and swirling it round there. She drew in a sharp breath. He knew he was tickling her so he did it again. Her movement was slight, ruthlessly suppressed but still apparent to him. Again, had she been even slightly more experienced he would have called her on it, but on this occasion, he let it go. She’d be coming in the next couple of minutes anyway and as he had no intention of granting permission that would cause her enough trouble.

  He continued on his journey south, reaching her smooth mound. He kissed it, trailing his tongue down the two creases making up the V at the apex of her thighs. He stopped, turned his head to see her face.

  Fleur looked to be in pain, her expression agonized, an incongruous mix of passion and genuine horror. She knew that he knew, as soon as he touched her pussy, she would detonate.

  “Open your legs, Fleur.”

  Her muscles relaxed slightly, but her thighs remained firmly closed. Ethan waited a moment, then, “Fleur, do as I say, and do it now.”

  He’d always found the Dom equivalent of ‘please’ effective, especially if injected with just the right tone of stern, uncompromising command. Fleur was getting the full benefit of this now, and complied instantly. She even had the grace and good sense to bend her knees in order to offer him better access to her, though she had to know what the consequences would be.