Chapter Eight #2
Yes, of course, she wrote at last, as though she hadn’t left him on read for several minutes. I want the same from you.
He relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. Agreed. Do you want to play right now?
Yes, she responded immediately. I mean, yes, please. Sir. Whatever.
He smiled at the phone. Do you want to call me sir? Does that help?
Well I’m damn sure not typing out “Pimpernel” every time.
That made him chuckle. There’s no good way to abbreviate it, either. Maybe I should have picked a different name.
Too late now, she sent. What do you want me to do?
Normally he liked to plan these things, but he hadn’t expected her message tonight. Do you own any lingerie?
I’m not sending you pics.
I know you’re not sending me pics. Do you think I forget that fast? God, she was reactive. Maybe you can trust me a bit.
Just wanted to reiterate my boundaries.
Right. This was all about boundaries, wasn’t it? Same thing with no physical descriptions, no small talk. A game of power exchange without exchanging any real power. Got it.
I do have some lingerie. I have matching bras and panties, and I’ve got some silk nightgowns and a few other things.
She had probably worn these for some boyfriend, maybe let him remove them. Put on something that makes you feel sexy. Maybe a little slutty.
OK. Give me a minute.
I can wait. He took the opportunity to go out into the kitchen and refill his water glass. Maggie’s door was closed now, with light creeping out from under it. He’d have to be quiet.
Suddenly, her door opened, and she stopped short at the sight of him in the kitchen.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re up.” She was already in her nightclothes, a pair of sleep shorts and a button-down sleep shirt made of soft cotton.
It was purple trimmed in white, not designed to be especially sexy or tantalizing, but she looked cute.
She scanned his torso. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but she’d seen him without a shirt before, including recently when she had teased him about stripping for her. She was still staring, so he held up the glass, face suddenly hot. “Getting some water.”
“Yeah, me too.” She walked past him, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and filled it. Her movements were stiffer than normal, like she was agitated. Maybe he was giving off guilty vibes, and she was responding to them. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He watched her close her bedroom door before he returned to his. He turned on the fan, and the low hum muffled any other noises, as long as he stayed quiet.
It was another few minutes before Rose’s message came through. All right.
What does your lingerie look like?
It’s a sheer lace negligee. It has ribbons that tie over the nipples. It’s black.
He could picture it, even if he couldn’t picture her, even if he had to consciously stop using Maggie as a placeholder in his mind. He tried imagining a woman with long brown hair, much longer than Maggie’s.
Is it open at the bottom like a dress?
Yeah. It has matching underwear, but I didn’t put them on.
You won’t be needing them. He was hard again. How does it feel to be wearing it?
I like it, she replied. It feels like I’m going to show someone. Like I’m anticipating.
His thoughts rolled on ahead, an idea spooling out in front of him. Kneel on your bed with your knees spread. Imagine that I’m watching you.
OK. I’m doing it.
He closed his eyes to picture the whole scene, then opened them to type. I’m sitting in a chair in the corner. I’m wearing a suit. I’ve called you here to put on a good show for me.
What would you like me to do?
So many things. I’d like you to untie those ribbons over your nipples. Put your hands behind your head and open your elbows out so I can inspect you. Hold like that for a minute before you check the phone again.
Yes, sir.
Somewhere, she was obeying, exposing herself for anyone to see, for him to see. Soon, she would start to feel vulnerable. Sometimes wearing the right kind of clothing made a person feel more naked than wearing nothing at all.
Rub your clit for me, nice and slow, until you reach the edge. Look at the corner and imagine me sitting there, watching you.
He stripped off his clothes and sat naked on the bed, finally taking his cock in hand, breath already shaky. He had to take his time, but he never wanted to take his time.
Yes, sir, she replied.
He hadn’t been sure how much he’d like doing this all via text.
He’d flirted with partners on the phone before, but all his actual kink play had been in person: first watching at events, then participating, topping for impact and bondage play.
Looking back, though, he’d always loved the verbal component.
He loved gently stroking a woman’s back while she was bound to a spanking bench, whispering what he was going to do to her.
He loved hearing his play partners confess their fantasies.
He loved writing erotic stories. So even though he couldn’t see Rose right now, he loved this as well.
I’m on the edge, she typed.
Stop.
I knew you were gonna say that.
He smiled. Do you like some humiliation?
It depends, she wrote back. Maybe.
I’ll tell you what I want you to do, and you can tell me if it’s too far or not.
OK. He could almost hear the hesitation in that word.
I want you to turn around and put your shoulders on the mattress, ass up toward that corner where I’m watching you. And I want you to use that bullet vibe on your clit until I let you stop. Can you do that for me?
Fuck, she replied. Yes, I can do that.
He stroked his cock again, long, slow strokes in between typing. Good girl, Rose. Put the phone where you can see it. Don’t you dare come.
Yes, sir, she typed. He had forgotten what a turn-on it was to be called sir, to help someone fall into that headspace. He left the phone for a moment, enjoying his own slow build of pleasure, the climax hovering out of reach that he wasn’t going to chase down yet. Then he messaged her again.
This would be my nightly ritual for you, he said.
I’d have you put on something sexy and tease yourself while I stroke my cock.
He sent the first message, then kept typing, let the fantasy keep spilling out.
Maybe I’d climb on that bed with you and fuck you until I came.
Imagine what it would be like, to be on the edge and denied, feeling me come inside you.
You’re driving me crazy, she typed. I keep having to pull the vibe away so I don’t come.
He was driving himself crazy, too. You’re being so good.
She typed back, sentences coming one at a time.
Your cock would feel so good in me. I’d be close to coming, and you would stop me before I could. Hold me down on the bed.
He had to slow down, too, or he’d come too quickly. He stopped to type.
Holding your wrists down on the bed, next to your shoulders. Using you for my own pleasure.
I want that, she typed. Please, may I come? I want to be good for you.
She had no idea how good she was, damn it; so good at balancing obedience with spinning out the fantasy. He wanted her to have everything, and the rush of it was terrifying and exhilarating.
Yes, Rose. You’ve been so good. Come for me.
He set the phone aside and gave in to his own rising pleasure. Climax rolled through him, pulsing through him in gorgeous waves until he relaxed back against the pillows. Fuck, that was good.
The phone was still quiet, and she was coming somewhere, maybe stifling her cries in the bedding, hips twitching as she lost herself to pleasure.
God, if only he was there to watch.
Maggie lay on the bed, body tingling with the aftereffects of her orgasm.
Conscious thought returned slowly. Next to her, the phone was silent, his last command still visible on screen.
She hadn’t intended to play with the Pimpernel again tonight, but after taking a short nap this afternoon, she’d woken up from some hazy sex dreams already turned on.
One thing led to another … and here she was, wearing black lace lingerie for no audience, body trembling after an incredible climax.
Her brain hummed pleasantly, and yes it was all chemicals, but she certainly didn’t mind these blissful moments when everything seemed good with the world. Thank you, sir, she typed, focusing to hit the right keys on screen. That was amazing.
For me too, he replied.
She rolled onto her side. I liked all that dirty talk. More than liked it; she loved it. She lost herself in it. She could see how he could get her to go further than she wanted. She could imagine herself becoming desperate enough to do whatever he asked, no matter how humiliating.
Even the thought of it turned her on. And that scared her.
Now I’m a mess, she wrote. I need to clean up.
She almost walked into the hall in lingerie but stopped herself in time.
Wouldn’t that be an awkward conversation with Blake.
He’d probably stare, wide-eyed, and maybe she would tell him the truth, because it would be hilarious to imagine his response to “Oh, I just got finished sexting with a kinky stranger.”
Maybe he’d like that thought. Maybe he’d like it so much that he’d back her up against the wall, his strong body pressing against hers …
What was this? She’d gotten off mere minutes ago, was still awash with warm fuzzy feelings, and should not be thinking about Blake again. She stripped off the lingerie and swapped into her bathrobe.
Of course, Blake was in the bathroom. The hazards of roommates. She waited, leaning against the wall, until the door swung open and he stepped into the hallway wearing only boxers.
She forced her gaze up to his face because it was too easy to linger elsewhere when her mind was fuzzy.
He had been shirtless a lot lately. Earlier, it had been pajama pants, but now it was only boxers, and if the trend continued, next time he’d be buck-ass naked.
She couldn’t help picturing it, and her face heated.
“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” He gestured behind him to the bathroom. “Just washing up for bed.”