Chapter Twenty #2
“You actually get off on making a woman come?” she questions, disbelieving. “Men are usually in it for their own orgasm. If a girl comes, it might be good for their pride, but not much more.”
I smile faintly. “You tell me, Mira. You can feel people in a way that astounds me. What did you get from me last night?”
She thinks for a moment. “Arousal. Excitement. I think you wanted to push more, but you didn’t want to scare me.”
I nod. “That’s correct. Tonight, I want to push hard.
I’m going to get at least a dozen orgasms out of you, but you will have a safe word you can use if you really need to stop.
If you say it, everything immediately halts, and we talk.
After that, the scene either ends, or you can choose to keep it going.
You can choose to surrender and let me lead.
I’m pretty good at reading people, as I’ve proved, and there are several limits for women. ”
“Oh? What are those?” she inquires.
“The first one is based on their experience and immediate comfort,” I tell her.
“That’s the softest limit. With some women it’s passed after orgasm one, but for most it’s between two and three.
Then there’s the second limit, where they really think they’re done.
That’s usually between three and five, when they genuinely don’t think they can come anymore.
” I allow my lips to lift into a smirk. “With a skilled enough touch, they absolutely can. Then comes the third limit, at around a dozen, and pressing past it is transcendent, I think. That’s where coherency fades, thoughts fade, the ability to speak fades.
Getting past that one is the most exciting thing to me possible, but I never have. ”
Mira swallows. “You can really coax a dozen orgasms from a girl?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure I could get into triple digits, but that’s outright sadism.
The balance of pain and pleasure shifts and the focus becomes pain.
I haven’t been with a girl who’s into that, and frankly, I’m only into whatever gets the right reaction from my partner.
The balance has to be right; a girl’s response has to be right. ”
“What’s the highest number of times you’ve ever made a girl come?” Mira sounds positively titillated.
“Thirty something,” I reply. “It took over two hours, and it was extremely hot. Not as hot as watching you come last night, though.”
“You really find me that desirable?”
“You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever come across, and not just physically. Emotionally, intellectually, all of it. It’s all a massive turn on for me. Of course, I’m into the idea of scrambling your brain with pleasure.”
A soft noise, almost like a whimper, escapes her, and I damn near lose control of myself.
“Does that answer your questions?” I ask, my tone gravelly. I need to get to the part where I start playing as soon as possible. I literally cannot wait.
She nods. “I think so. What will it be like tonight? Will it be like last night?”
“It’ll go farther,” I tell her, lowering one hand to her thigh and stroking it. “I’m going to strip you and put you in cuffs attached to my bedposts to keep you open. I’m going to use my fingers and mouth like I did last night, but I’m also going to use some toys.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Toys like vibrators?”
I incline my head. “Among other things.”
“Don’t guys usually get unmanned by those things?” she asks curiously. “I don’t have any personal experience with them—I could never afford one—but Cara swears that they can get a girl off quicker than any man.”
I shrug. “I’m not emasculated by toys. I’m perfectly confident in my own ability to incite an orgasm; toys are there to aid me in my quest. They’re a tool, not competition.
” I kiss her neck. As much as I’m enjoying this conversation and Mira’s evident curiosity and willingness, I’m eager to get started.
“We’re going to use a simple, common safeword system.
If you feel your boundaries being pushed, say yellow.
I’ll ease up and check in. If you need an immediate stop, say red.
It won’t end the scene, but it’ll bring it to an abrupt halt, and if you tell me you need to end it, I will.
” I raise one of my hands to her chin, turning her head toward me so I can have access to her lips.
I kiss her once, twice, then take a deep, long drink from her lips, a low noise rumbling from my chest when she submits to my kiss.
“Are we understood?” I ask, pulling back.
Mira blinks a few times, adorably dazed. “Yes.”
“Repeat your safe-words and their meaning,” I prompt. I might not be hardcore into the BDSM life, but I am mindful of the parameters and limits.
“Yellow means slow down and talk, red means halt everything and check in,” Mira breathes.
“Good girl,” I praise. Her eyelids flutter, and I don’t bother suppressing the smirk that spreads on my lips. “Lay down on the bed, head on the pillows. Get comfortable, baby. You have a long night ahead of you.”
I plant one final kiss on her lips before releasing her. She wastes no time crawling up the bed on all fours, her ass swaying from side to side. It’s tantalizing as hell; everything about her is unbelievably fucking hot, but her ass is truly a thing to be worshipped.
Once she’s in position, head on the pillows, I rise and round the bed until I’m standing beside her. “Do you want to take off your clothes, or do you want me to do it?” It’s a simple question and a simple choice, but her answer will be indicative of her mindset, and of her comfort with this.
“You do it,” she says quietly.
I kneel beside her and take her shoulders in my grip, sitting her up.
I finger the hem of her top, raising it up and over her head, revealing a plain blue bra.
I run my fingers along the underside of it, gently scratching her with my nails, loving the little shudder that races up her spine.
I flick the clasp open, and she helps me pull the straps down her shoulders.
“Lay back,” I tell her softly. I reach over to the bedpost nearest to me, running my hands over smooth wood until I feel the edge of a chain.
I clasp the leather cuff it's attached to and pull it from beneath the mattress.
The material is sturdy, and the chain clinks as I pull it onto the bed, letting Mira see it.
Her eyes widen but she doesn’t protest or try to stop me.
“You ready?” I ask her.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re ready,” I assure her. “The goal is at least twelve. That’s your punishment. If you need to stop for the night, you know what to say, and we’ll finish in the morning. Give me your hand.”
She holds out her wrist. It trembles when I wrap my hand around it. I’m not sure if it’s from cold, fear, or arousal, but I like it. I like her vulnerability, her hesitation. I like knowing that all of those thoughts cluttering her mind will soon disappear under the thrall of consuming pleasure.
I wrap the cuff around her wrist, tightening it.
Enough so that she can’t slip out of it, but not so much that it cuts off circulation.
I repeat the process with her other wrist, and then my hands move to her jeans.
I unbutton them, unzip them, and hook my thumbs under the waistband of her panties and her pants, simultaneously pulling both down her legs.
I stop to gaze at her, a long breath shuttering out of me.
She is absolutely luminous. Ethereally gorgeous, so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at her.
Her soft, platinum hair fans out over my pillows, and her slight breasts tremble with each one of her breaths.
Her flat stomach and dipped waist give way to the curve of generous hips and the soft mound of her pussy, which is dusted with light-blonde hair so fine it’s barely visible.
I run my hands up and down the soft skin of her thighs, fantasy after fantasy overtaking me.
Pushing those back, for now, I secure her legs in place with the cuffs at the bottom posts of the bed and squeeze her thigh. “I’m going to go get some things. Then we’ll get started.”