Author's note:
This story has a strong BDSM feel, but in a "sensual femdom" style. Which means that the female character does take control, but there are no chains, no whips, and no pain either.
The story deals mostly with teasing and cum control, not the orgasm denial in the usual BDSM sense, but just the control of when and how. If this is not your thing, please, move on.
A big THANK YOU goes to
TANSTAAFL58
for encouraging me to write and for editing this story.
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My first love. My only love. This is the story of us finding our way back together.
***
We used to date our junior year, then fell apart. After college we moved in the opposite directions — I went to grad school in Maryland, you took a job in Oregon. But a year ago we both found ourselves back in Boston. We met for coffee. Then for a movie. Then there was a party date. And then you tried to pick up where we left it all those years ago.
But time did not stand still for me. In college I was a timid girl, happy to be hugged and kissed. You were my first real boyfriend, but I did not like fucking much, cuddling felt much better.
Since then I discovered that I preferred to be the one in control. Not to leave it to a chance, but to decide on my own when it was time for cuddles, when I wanted to be fucked, or when I was going to be the one doing the fucking. Or teasing, turns out I like that the best.
And you... How do I bring this up with a man I loved a long time ago? You were taking me home after a party, there was a mess of hands and lips on the back seat of a cab, and then we were standing at my door. Kissing. I did not want to let you go and you did not want to leave. I fumbled for the keys. Somehow we got to the fourth floor without waking up the neighbours, opened the door, and...
And then it hit me. Clair, what are you doing?? You can't let this happen! You two are going to kiss your way to the bed, the clothes will be pulled off and then what? You will just lay under him and pretend to enjoy it? Fake an orgasm? Go back to being that sad and frustrated woman you were for a few years after college when you went through quite a few guys not finding any joy in sex?
Or are you going to be you, the real you? The one that knows exactly what she wants, when, and how. That derives great joy from the control. That loves giving pleasure that most men don't even know exists — the pleasure of complete submission to another.
I had to stop him before it was too late, before we went back to what we were before and ruined any chance of staying together. So, I did the only thing I could possibly do:
"STOP!"
I put all the power and steel I could possibly master in that one short word.
And you... reacted! You immediately stopped and let me go. Hands limp at your sides, you looked confused: "Why? What's wrong? Don't you want this? Don't you want ... me?"
"I do! I do want you, but... not like this."
I looked around the room. I knew what I needed to do, but did not want to scare you with my chest of toys. A scarf! That will do.
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do, why wouldn't I? Are you in trouble or something?"
"No, not that. Do you trust me not to hurt you?"
"Hurt me? How? What are you talking about?"
Oh, my, you had no idea! Well, you either were going to run or not, I did not really have much say in that.
"Come here, baby. I am going to tie a scarf over your eyes. Then I am going to take you by the hand, lead you to my bed, undress you, and lay you down. I will tie your hands to the headboard with another scarf and then we will have sex. This is what I am talking about.
Now, DO you trust me not to hurt you?"
You looked stunned. You tried to say something, but the words would not come out. And then... Then you did something I would not have expected in a million years. Very slowly you kneeled in front of me, put your hands behind your back and looked up at me.
"Yes, I do trust you. Always had, always will. I just did not know how to tell you that I was dreaming about this day for the past six years. What should I call you?"
"Clair, just Clair. I am still the same girls you knew in college, I was Clair then, I am still her now."
I took a wide winter scarf from the coat closet and brought it back to you.
"Here. Not too tight?"
"Just perfect...Ms. Clair."
I laughed: "OK, OK, "Ms. Clair" it is. Now get up!"
I took you by the hand. Somehow that simple touch felt completely different, but then it always did when I was in control. You felt it too, a shiver went through you body.
One step, another. It is hard to walk without seeing, but you managed not to stumble.
We stopped by the bed.
"I am going to unbutton your shirt, then take it off. Don't move, just stand still."
One button, another, ... The shirt opened up and I could not stop myself — I leaned in, kissed your throat and slowly kissed my way down. All the way to your belt.
You put your hands on your buckle, about to open it.
"STOP!"
Your hands dropped back to your sides.
"What did I tell you?
I