“Stop. Do it.” I raise my voice a little, getting annoyed. I hate having to repeat myself. Hopefully she will learn that soon.
I gently guide her into position, legs tucked beneath her, forehead on the floor, arms outstretched, palms down. Her small, thin body looks so graceful this way, like a statue. I run my hand down her spine.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask her.
“What do you think?”
“Just yes or no. No bratty remarks, or this will be way worse for you and a lot of fun for me.”
She sighs into the carpet. “Yes.”
“We’re going to start doing this the right way, now. Any time you want me to stop, and I mean really stop, you use your safe word and everything stops. If you’re restrained, you have to be still and calm after saying the word so I can release you without you getting hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going into this willingly, and do you trust me to take care of you?”
“Yes.” She fidgets on the floor. I gently caress her back. “Just relax your body and your mind. Don’t stiffen up.”
“I’m trying to.” Her shoulders relax and she unclenches her fingers.
“I know, and you’re doing great. You look fucking beautiful. You have no idea what seeing you like this does to me.” I plant a kiss on the middle of her spine and watch goose bumps sprinkle over her flesh.
I feel like a kid in a toy store. There are so many things I want to do with her and say to her, and have her do to me. It’s almost overwhelming. I’ve fantasized about someone like her for more than ten years, and thought it would always be just an unattainable fantasy. And now here she is, on my floor, open to me. If only this could last, but I know better. It will end … and it will end badly.
“From now on, I don’t want you to shower unless you ask me first. I want to bathe you myself sometimes.” Bathing is part of the bonding and after-care process, and one of the parts that I’m most looking forward to with her. I have a desire to care for her that I’ve never felt with another woman.
She turns her head on the floor and blows her hair out of her face to look at me. “Dude, really?”
Her sarcasm completely severs my mood, like having ice thrown on me, and pulls me out of the scene.
“Ya know what? Fuck it. Get up.”
I stand and grab the pearls and ribbon and throw them into the nightstand drawer.
“Just go to bed,” I say, angrily. “I’ll take you home tomorrow.”
I leave her sitting there and go out to the living room, seething mad and disappointed. The universe is obviously punishing me for my sins, constantly getting in the way of any happiness I begin to feel. It just doesn’t happen, no matter what fucking I do. I should have never gone near her; every part of it is wrong on so many fucking levels. I just want her so damn much that I let it cloud over everything else.