Everett
She’s starting to come back to me, bit by bit. I can see it in her eyes. They’re not as glazed over as they were a few minutes ago.
The fragile trust she’s extending to me makes something crack wide open in my chest. She’s accepting me—even the parts she can’t possibly understand yet.
But she wants to learn about my desires; she wants a distraction, and I can give her one.
I just need to be careful not to send her further into her dissociative state. I need to make sure she stays present with me,.
“Please,” she says, blinking up at me.
I don’t think there are any set of circumstances that would make me deny her in this moment.
“I need to know your limits, Honey,” I murmur. She feels so small against me as I brace her against the door, trying to at least offer her the physical reassurance her body needs when she’s in this state.
“Limits? Like... what I don’t want you to do?”
“Exactly.”
Her brows draw down. Despite the circumstances, I can’t help but admire how adorable I find the crease between her brows that forms when she’s thinking really hard.
“I don’t know.”
I nod slowly, doing my best to calm my racing heart so I can focus on safe play practices.
“Because you haven’t thought about it much?” I murmur.
At her nod of assent, I press my lips softly against her forehead. I’ve done this quite often. It’s almost become a tic of mine. Whenever I’m thinking of filthy, lascivious things, I’ll press a kiss to her forehead to try to tamp down those urges.
This forehead kiss though? It feels different. Because she’s trusting me enough to actually accept this part of myself I’ve tried to keep away from her.
“That’s okay for now. Do you know what the stoplight system is?”
“No, what is it?”
“It’s a safe word system. Sometimes throughout a scene, I’ll ask you for your color.
You can also share your color at any time.
Green means you’re enjoying things. Yellow means slow down.
Red means stop completely, no questions asked, we head straight to aftercare.
I need you to know that even if you use your safe word and end a scene, I won’t be upset.
I can’t have you pushing your own limits trying to please me. Do you understand?”
I reach out and gently cup her jaw, guiding her gaze up to meet mine.
“Okay, I understand,” she nods.
“Good girl.”
“Can you—can you tell me what you want to do? And then I can tell you whether I’m okay with it?”
It’s a good suggestion, but for the life of me, I can’t find the right words.
“I want to try grounding you by overwhelming your brain so the only thing you’re focused on is me. On the here and now.”
Even to my own ears, my words don’t make any goddamn sense. Not within this context. God forbid a man is nervous in front of a gorgeous girl, trusting him enough to engage in kink when she’s emotionally vulnerable.
“That’s a whole lot of talk and not a lot of substance,” Andi huffs.
Her snark washes over me, easing the tension in my shoulders. It tells me she’s still present enough to tell me off, despite the stress and overwhelm of being in that room.
“Be careful,” I say, my voice pitching low. “If you’re a brat, I’ll have to punish you.”
“Oh? And what exactly does that mean?”
My lips quirk up at the generous opportunity she’s giving me, post my stupid word salad a few seconds earlier.
“It means... I’m going to bend you over my desk.
” I trail my fingertips lightly down her arms, raising goosebumps in their wake until I’m grasping her wrists.
“I’m going to tie your wrists behind your back so they’re out of the way, hike that pretty dress up, and spank you until you’ve learned your lesson. ”
“I can handle that,” she murmurs. “You know, I honestly thought it would be a lot worse than that, considering how much you were skirting around what you were into earlier.”
She really is a natural-born brat.
“Watch your mouth,” I growl, holding her wrists in one hand and reaching up to grasp her face with the other. I squeeze her cheeks until her lips are puckered out obscenely. “Or else I’ll have to gag you, and the most convenient thing here is your own slick-soaked panties.”
With the way the sun is shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see the way her pupils widen at my words, despite the dark color of her irises. That, and the way the honey notes of her perfume practically explode from her, tell me she likes the idea.
“Oh? Someone likes that idea, hmm?” I release the grip I have on her to patronizingly pat her on the cheek.
She sputters, her blush traveling up to her ears. “I—I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Honey. Or else that’s another thing going on your list of punishable offenses. You like the idea of being gagged with your own panties. Say it.”
Her chest heaves as she stares up at me, probably trying to gauge whether I’m serious.
I let her see the smug satisfaction, the dark hunger, and the goading challenge in my expression.
“I like the idea,” she mumbles.
“Hmmm, that didn’t sound like the full sentence, now did it?” I chuckle. “Turn around.”
“Why?” she asks, her eyes flaring wide.
“You’ll see,” I shrug. “I was going to let you just take them off and hand them to me, but you can’t seem to follow simple instructions. So you’re going to put on a little show for me as an apology.”
“A—a show?”
“That sounds an awful lot like a question and not like you turning around.”
Her eyes narrow on me in a glare that makes my pulse thrum through my veins before she turns around.
I take a couple of steps back so I can enjoy the show.
“Bend over for me,” I say casually, like I’m asking her the time.
She lets out a small huff that I swear is her biting back a sharp retort before bending at the waist. She leans a hand against the wall for balance.
The hem of her skirt rides up. It’s long enough that it isn’t indecent, but the tantalizing reveal of her bare thighs is still thrilling.
“Now, lift up the hem of your dress and position it so it doesn’t fall down until I give you permission to stand straight.”
Her breathing has gone a little shaky as she reaches back with a hand and pulls up the hem of her dress so it’s resting on her waist, exposing her ass in a pair of dark blue lace panties.
“Oh, how pretty,” I hum. “Is this for me?”
“Maybe—” she says, her voice trembling. “You said—you said everyone did a bit of shopping for me. I tried to figure out what underwear you picked out.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile if I tried.
“Ahhh, I see. Well... this was certainly a good guess. I’m never one to complain about such a thoughtful gift, but you are incorrect.”
“Which—which ones did you get for me, then?” she asks, bracing herself against the door with both hands now.
“The thongs.”
“Why those?”
“Because I like the idea of you soaking through a tiny scrap of fabric—they aren’t big enough for you to wear a de-scenting pad with, which means you’ll be walking around absolutely dripping.”
The confession hangs heavy in the air. It’s not something I thought I would’ve shared with her. I wouldn’t have wanted to overwhelm her. But now? With her bent over, her dress hiked up over her hips, flashing me those lace panties she put on with me in mind? I’d tell her anything.
“Oh,” she breathes out, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It’s an unintentional movement, but with her positioned the way she is, it has my mouth going dry.
“Now I want you to reach back and take off your panties. Slowly. You’re giving me a show, remember?”
She hooks her thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down. Inch by inch she bares herself to me until I can see her glistening folds between her legs.
“Good girl. Now, step out of them. You can stand straight now.”
She stands, her panties dangling from a finger as she turns to face me.
“Give them to me,” I murmur.
Despite her brattiness, she really is quite obedient.
When she hands them to me, I lift them up to my nose and take in a deep inhale. The sweetness of her slick is mixed with the gentle musk that’s all her.
“Wait! What’re you doing! That’s—that’s weird!”
My hand shoots out, gripping her face once more.
“Do you think you are you allowed to tell me what to do?”
“Mm-mm,” she says, shaking her head.
“Right. If I want to smell your slick, then I will. Now, open your mouth.”
“You’re—you’re being serious?”
“As a heart attack.” I crumple her panties into a ball and press them against her lips. They really are soaked through.
She lets out a shaky exhale before parting her lips.
I push the fabric gently into her mouth. It’s thin enough that it doesn’t make her cheeks puff out, so there won’t be a risk of choking, especially since I’m not preventing her from spitting them out if she needs to.
“Good girl,” I smooth some of her hair away from her face as I take in the sight of her.
With a grip on the back of her neck, I march her over to my desk, pressing her down so she’s bent over the wood.
I run my fingertips down her arms and pull them behind her back, grasping her wrists in one hand. I keep a couple of spare ties in my desk, the silky fabric is perfect for binding her wrist.
“I expect you to spit out your gag if you need to use your safe word,” I murmur, checking my makeshift handcuffs to make sure they’re not too tight and cutting off her circulation.
“But if you need things to stop immediately, drop this,” I place a round, heavy paperweight into her hand. “If I hear it fall, everything stops.”
She nods her head before turning to the side and pressing her cheek against the wood.
I hike her dress up over her hips, tucking the hem up into the stretchy bodice and baring her naked flesh to me. I nudge her sandaled feet apart with my own until she’s positioned exactly how I want her.
“You still with me, Honey?” I ask, running my hands over her ass and squeezing.
Her breath hitches, and she offers a jerky nod.