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I probably should have said “Thank you” or something similar but I was losing my ability to speak. His hands were all over me but they didn’t feel smothering or scary. They felt wonderful. I was turning all liquid inside, growing hot and wet. He cupped my breasts and then he yanked down the bodice of my leotard and ran his thumbs across both my nipples.
My breath stuttered in my throat. “You’re—you’re t—touching my boundaries.”
“Yes, I am. They feel beautiful.” He nuzzled his face against my neck. “You’re coming tomorrow?”
I gasped as his fingernail flicked one of my nipples. “Yes, Sir.”
“What time?”
“Noon.”
“What happens if you’re late?”
I could feel the heat of his lips against mine. “Punishment,” I whispered.
He brushed my hair back and feathered kisses across my brow. “Don’t be late. We have so many fun things to do.”
“N-No. I won’t be late.”
He gave me one last, mesmerizing kiss. “Happy New Year, Ashleigh.”
I could hear everyone out in the auditorium exclaim as the clock struck twelve. It was the very last thing on my mind.
*** *** ***
She rang the doorbell promptly at twelve. Which was fine. If I wanted to punish her I could find a thousand reasons to do it that were more creative than “Naughty girl, you’re late.” Honestly, I wasn’t out to punish her. I was trying to fix her, even if my motives were more and more a mystery to me.
Ashleigh had dolled herself up in a plum-colored knit dress, dark lipstick, and a braided, intricate updo that must have taken her forever to create. Mem fluttered over it, running his fingers all over her head—he was really into braids. I touched her cheek and told her she looked pretty. She looked stunning, but that carefully arranged hair would have to come tumbling down.
We were getting naked today. Together. Happy New Year.
It was part of the plan, the process. I’d already seen her down to her panties, of course, and in a variety of tight-fitting leotards and costumes. I didn’t know how she’d feel about being completely naked, though.
I led her upstairs and sat her on the edge of the bed, then I sat behind her so she was between my legs. I took her hair down, lock by lock, braid by braid, while we talked about safe, uncomplicated things, like our STD screenings and how much clothespins hurt. We joked a little about sweaty, used toe shoes and touched on New Year’s resolutions. We both agreed they were stupid. By that point her hair was unraveled and unbraided, and she seemed relaxed enough for us to move on.
I turned her to face me. “This afternoon I’d like to talk about consent. Give and take, negotiation and reading signals. Let’s start the conversation with a question. If I do something to you in this room and you want me to stop, are you allowed to stop me?”
“No. I’m supposed to obey you. No matter what.”
I sighed. “That is…the wrong answer.”
“I meant no. No, Sir.”
I gave her a warning glance. “You’re not lying to me now, are you?”
“Yes. No! I don’t know.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Now I’m confused. I forget what you asked me.”
“Don’t freak out. Think back to what I told you last week. Can you stop me if I’m doing something you don’t like? If I start doing something you’re not okay with?”
I saw when she hit on the answer. “Yes,” she said. “I can leave the room.”
“Right. You can walk out the door. Even if you’re the submissive in a scene, you have power. You’re consenting to be here.”
“But you’re the one in charge, right?” She looked confused again. “I mean, you’re the dominant.”
I stroked my hand up and down her arm to soothe her. “That doesn’t mean you can’t leave. I’d be unhappy about it, and I’d stop playing with you if I thought you were manipulating the system. But I wouldn’t ever grab you by the arms and force you to stay once you’ve told me you want out of here. Even if you’re tied up…if you tell me you’re done and you don’t want any more, I’d have to untie you and let you go. Otherwise I no longer have your consent.”
I reached for her hands and squeezed them between us. This was the touchier part.
“Ashleigh, what your father did to you as a child…there was no consent involved. You weren’t allowed to say no, you weren’t allowed to leave the room. I think some part of you remembers that feeling of powerlessness. When someone like me, who means you no harm at all, climbs on top of you intending to give you pleasure, that feeling overtakes you and you turn into that scared little kid. You feel trapped and disgusted, because that’s what sex was to you for so long.” She held my gaze, even when her eyes started filling with tears. “That’s what I think, anyway,” I finished gently. “And I hope your dad burns in hell when he dies.”
She stared at my chest, then back at me. “I think you’re right. About that feeling. I do feel that way. I feel…” She let go of my hands as she searched for words. “Frantic. Like something really bad is about to happen, even when I want it very much.”
“So, our next step is to help you realize that you don’t have to feel frantic, or trapped, or disgusted. You have the power to stop things whenever you want, no questions asked, no matter how intense things are. No matter if I’m on top of you, if my dick’s inside you, no matter if I’m going to come five seconds down the line. It doesn’t matter. You can stop me. You can stop anyone you’re having sex with.” I waited, studying her face. The sheen of tears was gone, through some well-honed method of control. “Does that make sense to you?” I asked. “About consent?”
“Yes, it makes sense. At least in my head. We talked about all this in counseling, but whenever I get to that moment…”
That was her problem, that moment and her conditioned response to it. It wasn’t something I could fix through conversation. I think she realized that too. I stroked the skirt of her pretty purple dress and squeezed her leg. “What I would like to do now is lie down with you on the bed. Both of us are going to be naked, but I don’t want you to feel weird or nervous. I don’t want us to make any plans about what we’re going to do. I just want you to remember that you have control.”
She pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder and worried it between her fingers, but she didn’t say no. She didn’t start undressing either. “Why don’t I go first?” I said, unbuckling my belt.
She watched me undress with bashful curiosity. It aroused me a lot more than I thought it would, especially when she was trying so hard not to look at my cock and ended up looking anyway. It was all I needed to start going stiff. Before I finished she was twisting around to reach her zipper. It was always easier to get naked when someone else was naked. I helped her pull the dress over her head and then buried my face in her soft, floral-scented hair. I could feel her trembling against me as I reached behind her to unhook her lace bra. She inched down her panties, blushing but wonderfully obedient. No arguments today.
Oh, Jesus. It was hard to stay in control standing so close to her beautiful naked body. I suppressed a groan as I guided her to the bed and eased down next to her. We lay on top of the covers, propped against a pile of pillows.
“Comfortable?” I asked, even though I was not at all comfortable.
She shifted a little. I couldn’t blame her. My cock was reaching monster-size proportions against her leg. “It’s gonna get hard,” I said, readjusting it so it wasn’t flat-out poking her. “I don’t want you to stress about it. It’s natural, and most men have control over their sexual impulses.”
“Well…what do I—? Do you want me to—?”
I put an arm around her, drawing her closer. “You don’t have to do anything about my hard-on. I just want you to relax and lie here with me, and talk with me about some stuff. Because the nakedness”—I waved a hand over our bare, intertwined bodies—“does not mean anything. Not if we don’t want it to. It doesn’t compel you to do anything at all.
Got it?”
She stared at my dick. “It’s getting bigger.”
“I’m aware,” I said, palming my balls. “It’s because I think you’re hot. You can touch it if you want.” I stopped her when she reached for me automatically. “It’s not a command. You can touch me if you want to.” Not the sexiest chat up ever, but I didn’t want her to feel pressured or threatened. That was the whole point of this exercise—to teach her that she had control.
After a few moments she reached out to stroke a hand down my extremely stiff length. It was hard not to react, not to grab her hand and make her stroke me harder, faster. She circled the head with her fingers. “That feels good,” I said in a soft, encouraging tone. “You’re really making me feel good. I could stroke you too, stroke your clit for instance, and make you feel good. Know why I’m not?”
Her hand stopped moving. “No, I don’t know.”
“Because I’m not sure yet about your signals. I’d probably start with something like this first.” I brushed my fingers across her hip, tracing the delicate curve. “I’d wait for some signal that you were warming up. That you wanted more touching. Movements or sounds, or words. You could ask me to touch you, as long as you asked really nice.”
She laughed a little, her fingers curving around my cock. “What does that mean, ‘ask really nice?’”
“You can’t throw orders at me,” I said, grinning. “I’m a dominant, I don’t like orders. But you could probably figure out a sweet, deferential way to ask for what you wanted, if you wanted it bad enough.”
She gave me a look that made my cock buck in her hand. She dropped it like it was on fire and then I laughed along with her. “See what you do to me?”
With my other hand, I traced the graceful slope of her shoulder. She continued to play with my cock, stroking, touching, making lazy forays into my thatch of pubic hair. “That feels so great,” I sighed. I moved my arm a little so I could reach to caress one of her breasts. I started lightly at first, just a tease of sensation. She pressed her face into my neck when I raked over her nipple with my thumb. “You like that. I remember.” I nuzzled the side of her head and toyed with her until she forgot all about my cock. Her body tensed against mine.
“Maybe… Please… Can you touch me…?”
“I’m already touching you,” I said, giving her nipple a quick pinch. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Can you touch me…please…between my legs?”
