Chapter 2
"I should--" she almost laughed. Almost put the drink down and wordlessly left. Instead she raised the drink and finished the bourbon in two swallows. He'd actually asked her-- no proposed, almost told her-- to become his sex slave. Raised eyebrows and raised glass got him building a second cocktail. "What would it involve?"
"Sex." He handed her a second drink. "You will give me whatever sexual pleasure I desire. Allow me to enjoy your body in any way I like. Use your powerful and creative mind to further extend and increase the pleasure you can give me. Place yourself totally under my control in all sexual matters."
Wow. He really meant it. She had to lean against the counter. That trembling had increased and her scalp seemed to be levitating off her skull. "And," she managed, "And what do I get out of this arrangement?" That was the scientist asking, ready to reject any compensation-- undying love, money, a trip somewhere exotic.
"You give yourself to me freely and without limit. You ask for and you receive nothing-- except the satisfaction of giving yourself wholly, creatively, fully as a woman, to a man." That shut up the scientist. An equation needed two sides.
She used the drink, hiding behind glass, to give herself time. She felt woozy, not from the alcohol. A part of her, a growing part of her, wanted to say yes. Alarms went off in the back of her head. She didn't care. She wanted this even though she didn't know what
this
was. Maybe
because
she didn't know. She could see the satisfaction he predicted as if it were a new sun about to rise, and she also remembered the powerful energy that had flowed through her when his flesh had touched her lips. She finished the second drink and put down the glass. His posture, his smile, like a man who'd just acquired a new-- was she an object to him? a conquest? a thoroughbred horse or a supercar? She didn't know what she was to him, just that he knew she wanted to be his.
"Come with me."
She followed him into the large living area. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to direct her. He sat down on the big couch and pointed to a spot in front of him. She went there and waited.
"Say it."
She didn't know what he wanted her to say, but she didn't want to disappoint him by asking. Of course she knew, that growing part of her told her. The other parts of her were silent, like silent rooms in her home after guests had left. Guests no longer welcome. While the Nice Girl peeked in a window.
"I offer myself to you as your slave."
"Sex slave. I'm not interested in having you do my laundry."
"As your--" Of course he would want the full pledge. This was an important moment, like that first text or the moment she'd decided to abandon all caution and tell him her fantasy. The thought caused her eyes to move to his crotch again. The zipper was still down, inviting. "I offer myself to you as your sex slave." He nodded, but it seemed her pledge was not yet complete. "I will willingly perform any service-- sex-- sexual service-- you require, and will allow you to use my body-- or, or any other part of me, as you wish. Sir."
Sir?
Why had she called him that? And what other part of her was there besides her body? She felt stupid, a novel and unpleasant feeling.
He gave the slightest nod. "Remove your top."
She looked down, as if surprised to discover she was wearing a top. She already felt naked in front of him. She pulled it off over her head and tossed it to the end of the couch.
"Your bra."
She reached back to unclip it, held the loose undergarment to her breasts for a moment. It was a Nice Girl reflex, not wanting to show her nipples to him, especially as erect as they felt. Her hands squeezed her breasts, forcing her flesh up over the edge of the bra. She was proud of her breasts, creamy white, large enough to be a handful but without a trace of sag. Her girlfriends once had had a debate over what part of her was most beautiful. Face: movie star class; legs: they recommended she become a leg model, which paid way more than a university position; hair: wavy butterscotch they all envied. But they all agreed her breasts were the paradigm of female perfection. One of them even showed her Venus's breasts, the statue in the Louvre. Her previous boyfriend, a self-proclaimed "tit man", had loved to-- but that was all history. She tossed the bra to the floor and took a step closer to him, between his legs, now open.
"Kneel."
On her knees she reached for his belt, barely re-buckled, but held back, putting her hands instead on his thighs.
"You can say whatever you want. It will please me if you tell me your feelings as I enjoy you."
"I--I want to continue." Her hands went to his crotch. He was still hard underneath his pants. No nod.
"Continue what? Say it."
"I want to do what I did--" She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that. "I want to--" She had trouble saying it. Science Girl came to the rescue. "To perform fellatio on you." Relief washed over her, having let her desire out. She watched for his nod, eager to obey him and let her hands do what they wanted.
But he didn't. "Then ask."
Of course. "Please, Sir, may I pleasure you?" The words escaped before her conscious mind had time to stop them.
Sir again? Who was making her say these things?
She felt as if she were falling from space-- and was glad she was not still on her feet or she might have keeled over-- falling way down to a planet, an unexplored planet with unknown dangers. But a beautiful planet, a paradise perhaps. The nod, finally. Her hands opened his pants and reached in. One hand cupped his balls, the other took his stalk, her lips went to the tip.
"Stop."
The single word was shocking. Neither boyfriend had ever told her to stop sucking him. Her lips wouldn't leave the touch of his tip. He had to gently guide her head back. "Remove my pants."
She quickly did that and returned her hands to where they'd been holding him, his cock inches from her face. His genitals filled her vision and she wanted desperately to take him into her mouth. But she knew she had to wait. After several agonizing seconds without a command from him she looked up. How was he able to resist her, seeing how totally willing she was?
