Let Us Eat Cake (7 page)

Jeff stroked my hand, then my face. His caress made me calm down and understand that it was safe for me to tell him anything I wanted. His touch told me he did not judge.

“And what did thinking about that do? Did it make your pussy wet?”

“Oh yes,” I admitted. It was almost distracting to recall my private world and the times I gave myself an orgasm at the thought of being bound.

“Tell me more,” Jeff insisted.

“Sometimes I’ve masturbated by putting a vibrating egg between my legs and lying perfectly still. In my mind’s eye, I see myself tied to the tracks, unable to get free—not allowed to move.”

He moaned into my ear. We were both so quiet throughout this conversation that the hum startled me a little. In his low voice, he asked, “Does that image make you come?”

“Oh yes,” I whispered. My pussy ached. I wanted to come right then and there, even just talking about it. “There have been other times when I’ve forced myself to stay perfectly still like that, even after I come. It’s like I have to just take it.”

“I love what I’m hearing,” he said, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “Does it make you come again when you stay like that?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t believe what I was admitting. It scared me to think of him forcing me to come, whether once or twice.

“Tell me about your breasts,” he said in a low voice. Commanding. “Do you like it when your lover plays with them?”

“I do.” It was shocking to me that he’d asked, but I liked telling him. It was so much more intriguing. It was like he wanted to get everything right. While he was definitely domineering, there was a side to this questioning that revealed a serious commitment to pleasing me.

“Has anyone done it to your satisfaction?”

“No.”

“Because you wanted it longer?”

He was obviously able to communicate telepathically.

“Yes.”

Leaning forward, he kissed my cheek. It felt like the perfect reward for all of my divulging.

“Have you ever pictured yourself tied up with just your breasts exposed?”

Whoa. How did he know?
I nodded.

“Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be able to see and feel your lover touch and caress and grope your breasts and not be able to do anything about it?”

“Mm-hmm.” I barely managed to make a sound.

“What’s that?” he asked. “I can’t hear you.”

There was that tone again. He took it up a notch, which was probably his way of trying to get me to be louder, too.

“Yes, I have imagined that.” I managed a bold voice. I had already told him so much, what was the point of holding back? I was starting to feel proud of myself.

“Does it make you wet to think about it?”

The flirtation in his eyes was apparent with the masterful way he raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.

“Yes.”

“Are you wet right now?” he asked in a whisper.

“Very.”

“Good.”

He reached past me and took his mug of tea from the table. Because he held it, he stopped touching me and I felt cut off, like he was my drug and I needed him. I squirmed and he clearly noticed.

“You miss my fingers?” He was obviously teasing, but it was torturous.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“I know.”

“Are you going to massage me again?” I asked. Why was he withholding? And why was I so desperate to be touched again? I’d have done anything.

“Maybe. I like to watch you suffer. I might enjoy that a little longer.” His tone was serious, even though it felt like we were playing a game.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. Two could partake in this role-playing. I pouted.

“You could drink your tea in the meantime. I did make it for you, after all.”

“Okay,” I said and took the mug between my cupped hands. I sipped the tea and concentrated on the complex flavors that hit my palate. I sat back the way we were before, facing him on the couch.

He looked at my chest. My dress seemed to please him.

“Your nipples are hard,” he observed.

I blushed.

“You like opening up to me, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Even though you’re shy.”

Another nod.

“You have nothing to fear in being honest with me. The worst thing that will happen is that I’ll find some way for you to live out your fantasy.”

Gulp
.

“For instance, if you were serious about wanting to experiment with breast play, I could offer to tie your hands ever so loosely, and give you a treatment you’d never forget.”

Hard swallow. I was quite sure I was staring at him with eyes as big as Betty Boop’s.

“I’d fondle and squeeze and pinch and rub. Maybe I’d bring out my clamps. You’d like those. Or I’d give your nipples a zesty little swat with my riding crop. You’d enjoy that sting, I’m sure. Don’t you think?”

I bit my lower lip, almost unable to answer. I nodded. “I think I would.”

“If you gave me permission to play with those sexy tits of yours, I’d probably need to spend at least an hour to feel satisfied.”

I let out a muffled moan at the thought. “It’d be torturous.”

“Because your pussy would be jealous of all that attention?” His psychic observations were driving me over the edge. How did he consistently know just what to say to reel me in?

I nodded.

“You’d want to come really badly, wouldn’t you?”

Of course! I want to come in this very moment.

“Yes.”

“You’d need to.”

Indeed.

“Yes.”

“I might let you, if you were good.”

I was so wet just listening to him. I was more eager to come for him than I had been for anyone. Whatever good meant to him, I would be it.

“I’m really turned on right now,” I said, hoping this would prompt him to take me right then and there or in whatever way he wanted.

“Too bad,” he replied, taking a sip from his tea. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“Will you play with my breasts after you drink your tea?” There was a pleading in my voice that hung in the air between us. We were both aware of what I wanted.

“That depends.”

His wants, on the other hand, were not clear from the severity of his tone.

“On?”

“Your permission.”

“I give you full permission. I’ll even strap myself into the swing for you. Anything.”

“Anything?”

Absolutely! Cross my heart.

“Anything,” I insisted.

I just wanted him to rip off my dress and unclasp the black cotton bra that protected my nipples. I wanted to expose myself to him completely.

“And do you want to come for me.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Call me Master when you say that.”

“Yes, Master.”

With those words, I squirmed in my spot, sensing the mounting tension that longed for release. Never did I suspect that the word Master would unleash such a potent spell.

“I like calling you that,” I confessed.

“Good. I like hearing it. You’ll call me that from now on when we’re playing.”

Ooh. Instructions. I could do that.

“Yes, Master.”

“That’s a good girl.”

He petted my hair, like I was his lapdog. If any other guy had done this, I’d have been insulted, but the way he did it made me feel like being in his care was the best place for me.

“What will you call me, Master?”

“Well, let’s see now, Rachel, what suits you? My little slave? My slut?”

The words melted like the finest chocolate on a warm tongue.

“I’m both of those things to you. Your slave. Your slut.” Repeating the words back was like offering myself to him on a platter and that was exactly what I wanted to do.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?”

I nodded obediently. “Very, Master.”

“And here you said you were new to submission. That’s not what I think. I think you’ve been this way for as long as you can remember.”

I nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“You’ve just never met anyone who recognized you for the good little slut that you really are. Isn’t that right?”

He was so right about that. As he had been about everything. I had never met anyone who could talk to me the way he did and elicit the responses he got from me. My clit throbbed.

“Yes, Master. It is.”

Hearing myself capitulate was the ultimate turn-on. I wanted to please him more than I could express. I was so wet for him, so anxious to go farther.

“Master?” I implored.

“Yes?”

“Can we go back into your special room?” I wanted to peek into his private chambers so badly. Whatever he had in there, I wanted to know about. I ached to be taken.

“Patience, my good little slut,” he said. “My, you are turned on. You’re about ready to come in your panties right now, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“That’ll never do. How can I torture you if I’ve already let you come?”

Ugh. Logic. At a time like this. He was being impossible.

“You can’t, Master.”

“That’s right, my precious.”

I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, feeling like a pouty pin-up model.

“You will just have to control your urge to come. Can you do that?”

No! No! No!

“I’ll try,” I said.

“It’s not about trying, Rachel. Can you control yourself?”

I huffed. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he repeated, looking at me sternly. “Yes what?”

“Yes, Master. I won’t come if you don’t want me to.”

“That’s a good girl. I control your orgasm now. You come for me or you don’t come at all.”

Gulp.

“Yes, Master.”

Chapter Nine

He took my hand and led me back down the hallway. We walked past the room with the swing and my heart sank.

“Aren’t we going in there?” I asked, still hopeful that he would change his mind.

“You’re not ready.”

“I am,” I pleaded. “I am.”

“Earlier you were not, so I will not believe you now just because you are lusty.”

Lusty was the word. I don’t think I’d ever been called that before, but it described me to a tee. I would have said anything, done anything, just to be given the sweet release of orgasm.

Jeff opened the door to his bedroom. It was a minimalist place painted gray and the bed was covered by a dark duvet. There was a black dresser, but otherwise, no artwork on the walls or other decorative accents. On his bedside table was a book, face down. I went for it.

“Stop right there, my little slut,” he ordered. “Did I give you permission to snoop?”

“No.”

“I know you want to see what I’m reading, but you’ll have to earn the privilege.”

“All right,” I said, willing to do whatever it took. I did really badly want to know what book he was in the middle of.

“Get on the bed.” His command was the elixir I had craved.

“Gladly.”

“But first pull off your panties and give them to me.” The way he ordered me around was like a military officer telling me to drop and give him twenty.

“Yes, Master.”

I did as he’d said, leaving only my stockings. I handed over the lacy undergarments, soaked with my desire. He held them to his face and took in a long deep breath, closing his eyes.

“You’re magnificent,” he said. “Now. Lie down.”

Putting my head on his pillows, I looked to him for further guidance. I was still wearing my dress, anxious to have him rip it off, but sensing he didn’t have that in mind anymore.

“Finger yourself,” he said, still towering above me, watching.

I was acting out my very own solo porn fantasy. I’d tuned into webcam girls before, mostly out of curiosity. In front of Jeff, I acted out what I’d longed to do, but had never had the right conditions for. The confidence it took to
oooh
and
ahhhh
at my own touch in front of him was outstanding. With each flick of my clit, I thought I would make myself come, but I knew that I wasn’t supposed to.

“Lick your fingers,” he ordered.

I did. “Mmmm.”

“Describe the taste.”

“Kind of sweet. Salty.”

“Spread your legs now. Let me see how wet you are.”

As my thighs brushed against the soft blanket he’d thrown atop his duvet, the exposure threatened to undo me. Though still wearing my dress, I was as naked as I’d ever been in front of anyone.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” I said.

“You want me how?”

“I want you inside me.”

“You want me to fuck you,” he corrected.

I nodded.

“So tell me that.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words reverberated. I had not said words as strong as that before, preferring euphemism to hardcore language.

Jeff undid his belt, ripped it off and threw it to the ground. He undid his jeans, letting them slide to the floor. He stepped out of them and removed his socks. When he stood back up, I saw his erection beneath the boxers. He pulled his shirt over his head and revealed a muscular build. He produced a condom from the top drawer of the dresser, and in seconds, that was all he was wearing.

He filled me. I gasped at the stretching, the accommodating of his enormity. He had me in every way I could imagine. First he was on top of me, then beneath. I was on my knees, then on my back. Finally, he had me on top of him again, riding him as he held my waist.

“I’m close,” he said, nearly panting. “How do you want me?”

“Like this.”

With that, he let go. He throbbed inside me, pulling my hips to his. A loud groan came from deep within him and it was at that precise moment my own release came. With his cock hitting my inner wall at just the right angle, and the sense of him filling me, I longed to surrender completely.

He put his arms around me and squeezed me tightly, his cock still in me. We were still for what seemed like a long time. I listened to him breathing, feeling no need for words.

Then, he motioned to stand, although I was still on top of him. He sat up, adjusting my legs to wrap around his waist. I held onto him as he stood.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re going to have the biggest orgasm of your life.”

“I am?”
Okay!

He carried me out of the bedroom and turned into the other room. There was an ache in me, a longing that needed satisfying. I could barely stand the curiosity, as I was suspended between what had just happened and what was about to occur. With my legs wrapped around Jeff’s waist, I was at his mercy.