Part 9 (1/2)

Lach gradually looked down her body, taking in the fact that she was once again sporting those sky-high leather boots that she liked when wearing sweater dresses. This knitted fabric was black with a beige belt wrapped around her waist and coming just to her knee, which happened to be bare. His first instruction would be easy.

”Take them off.”

”Why?”

”The proper answer is yes, Sir.”

Phoebe let out a laugh, although it faded quickly when she saw that Lach didn't break into a returning smile. To make sure she understood just how serious he was, he took two steps back and leaned himself against the refrigerator, crossing his arms.

”I'm waiting.”

Phoebe must have stood there a good long minute contemplating his behavior. Whatever conclusion she finally came to had her slowly pulling up the sweater dress until her fingers were able to hook into the side of her French cut bikini panties. Lach instantly saw that she kept herself bare, which was his exact preference. It looked professionally done, but his thoughts were distracted when he saw the slight tremor in her hand. Her lips parted as she stepped out of the black panties fringed with white lace around the edges.

”I'll take them, please.” Lach held out his hand and waited for her to place the silk item in his palm. She did as he asked, never taking her eyes off of his. Knowing she was watching him, he purposefully put them in his front pocket. ”Before we continue on with satisfying my need for something sweet, you must choose a safeword. I'm sure you know what that is?”

”Of course, I do,” Phoebe answered a little breathlessly, her chin tilting up just a fraction. ”The women at the clubs were given colors. Red to stop and yellow to slow down. But those were women who were in positions where they really needed that. Do we?”

”No matter what the level of play is, a submissive should always have a safeword.” Lach noticed that Phoebe lowered her dress a fraction. ”Did I tell you that you could cover yourself?”

”Lach, this feels ridiculous.” Phoebe pushed the fabric down and placed her hands on her hips. ”Maybe if we were in a club setting, following whatever protocol the people had in place, I could see having this scene. But we're in the middle of my kitchen.”

”Did you not say last night that you were willing to submit?”

”Yes, but this-”

”You've gone to the extent of visiting clubs in person, regardless that you didn't play. You stated you understood that this isn't something that I just amuse myself with...it's who I am. From this moment on, you'll refer to me as Sir and you'll use red as a safeword should at any time you want this to end. Am I clear?”

Phoebe's disbelief and humor that he would instigate a scene in her kitchen quickly evaporated. The pace of her breathing quickened and she slowly lowered her arms to where her fingers grasped onto the fabric. He understood that the first time a submissive uttered a Dom's t.i.tle was alarming, yet in that designation was a freedom in which they'd never experienced. He was honored to be standing in front of Phoebe as she took that step.

”Yes...Sir.”

Phoebe's hesitation was evident, but Lach could see the darkening of her blue eyes to the extent that they s.h.i.+mmered like sapphires. He waited a beat to see if she'd say or do anything else, but she stood there waiting for his next directive. He felt a rush of blood enter his c.o.c.k, but knew that he wouldn't see any relief this afternoon. This moment wasn't about release so much as it was in setting the guidelines to this latest detour in their relations.h.i.+p.

”Pull your dress back up over your hips and spread your legs.” Lach waited patiently for Phoebe to follow this new order and when she did, he saw a small glimmer of sunlight reflect off of her inner thigh indicating her arousal. ”Situate yourself on the end of the counter, keeping your legs properly separated. I want to explore the body that you've just given me.”

Phoebe's motions weren't as graceful as they usually were when she moved her body and that only fueled his desire higher. Her desire was rising and she was reacting just as he'd hoped. He couldn't wait until later this evening when he had her show him each and every corset she owned, having her dress and stand before him. When she was finally on the countertop having used the stools for leverage, he pushed himself off of the fridge and made his way around to the end where her beautifully exposed body awaited him.

”Have you looked at yourself with a mirror?” Lach wondered aloud, not waiting for an answer as he used one finger to trail down the side of her pink l.a.b.i.a. It was a shade darker than her lipstick, but he wanted to taste it just the same if not more so. ”Your p.u.s.s.y looks like petals, with a morning dew like a glistening liquid just waiting for me to indulge.”

”Lach, I-” Phoebe broke off, her surprise evident. Lach wasn't sure if it was because he touched her or the fact that he described her p.u.s.s.y in such detail. ”I'm on my counter.”

”Sir. You seem to have trouble remembering my t.i.tle.” Lach had been in the lifestyle a very, very long time and knew the quickest way to overcome such forgetfulness. He had enough time to do just that. ”Keep your legs spread or this scene will end and I will bring my bag of toys tonight to do it for you.”

”Oh, my G.o.d,” Phoebe murmured, her head thumping on the granite as she wrapped her fingers around either side of the counter. ”Yes, Sir.”

His t.i.tle this one time wasn't good enough, so Lach set out to make sure forgetting his designation wouldn't be an issue in the future. She'd set her boots on the corners, the heels holding onto the hard surface with just their edge. The width of the counter was enough that he could access her without concern and also enjoy the look of black leather against her fair skin.

Lach placed both index fingers on either side of her c.l.i.t and slowly pulled her folds apart, revealing her entrance and the nectar that pooled there. He ignored the involuntary contracting of her opening and instead focused on the swollen tissue above it. Her c.l.i.toris was lighter in color, but it wouldn't be that way for long. Her blood continued to pump into her sensitive tissue with her quickening pulse.

”Ask me to lick your c.l.i.t.”

”For crying out loud, just-” Lach released her, allowing her p.u.s.s.y to close. She groaned in frustration. ”Fine! Sir, please lick my c.l.i.t.”

”Much better.” Lach slowly opened Phoebe once more to reveal her entrance, making sure she knew that she was technically in control with regards to how fast she received an o.r.g.a.s.m. She probably wouldn't be too happy with the outcome of this afternoon's scene, but she would d.a.m.n well be ready tonight and his t.i.tle would be flowing off of her tongue as if it belonged there. ”Now, ask me like you mean it and put emphasis on that t.i.tle so you won't forget.”

”Sir, please lick my c.l.i.t.”

Phoebe's need was rising and so was the pressure on her c.l.i.toris. Flattening his tongue, he gathered her juices first and then proceeded to run his tongue directly over her most sensitive nerves. She cried out, but never once moved her legs more than a tremor. He could see her knuckles whitening as he traced her nub. He pulled back slightly, blowing air on the overheated flesh.

”Ask me nicely to suckle you and again, I want to hear my t.i.tle clearly.”

”Oh my...Sir, please suck on my c.l.i.t, please.”

Lach knew she was now in the moment, but it wasn't enough. He did as she asked though, as was his intention. Phoebe emitted the most adorable little mewing sound he'd ever heard that could only be described as dainty. He looked forward to the day when it turned into a growl. He closed his lips around her now very swollen nub and sucked gently, paying attention to the signs her body was producing. The inside of her thighs were trembling just a little more than before and her back was arching off of the counter. Every now and then he would run his rough tongue over her c.l.i.t after having captured it between his teeth. When her cries became rushed together and her muscles tightened, he pulled his mouth away.

”Lach, Sir, please.”

”Tsk-tsk. Ask me to fill your p.u.s.s.y.” Lach licked his lips, enjoying the sweet taste of her cream. He could literally see her body coming down slightly as she tried to formulate her words. ”Ask me to use my finger to breach your entrance.”

”Sir, p-please finger my p.u.s.s.y.” Phoebe's eyes were tightly closed and her head was turned to the side. There would also come a time when he would make her look directly into his eyes when she gained her release. There was nothing more beautiful than to witness his woman experience her pleasure. ”Sir, please.”

Lach stood and released her mounds, noticing that her skin stayed parted for him to view what he was about to do. Taking his right middle finger, he took his time in gathering her juices, wetting his digit, and spreading it around her opening while carefully avoiding her c.l.i.t. Phoebe's hips rose slightly, attempting to force his attention back to her nub. Her legs remained apart. Coating his thumb as well, he placed it over her c.l.i.toris while slowly entering her warm sheath with his finger. Her walls immediately tried to strangle his extremity, but he refused to be rushed.

”Your p.u.s.s.y is trying to keep me inside of you, Phoebe. Your heat is practically scorching my flesh.” Lach slowly pulled out until he'd reached his last knuckle, all the while making circular movements with his thumb and keeping friction on her c.l.i.t. The pad of his middle finger maintained firm contact with the roof of her cave, rubbing the bundle of nerves he knew to be there with each elongated stroke. It wasn't long before he once again saw the tremors on her inner thighs begin to quiver. He stopped all effort. ”Do your b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel neglected?”

It took a moment for Lach's words to register, but it must have been obvious to her when he didn't begin his administrations once more that he wanted to be answered. She inhaled and then exhaled, her chest rising and falling, eventually licking her lips and answering him honestly.

”Yes, Sir, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel neglected.” Phoebe's breath hitched on her last word.

”Do you like your b.r.e.a.s.t.s played with? Do you like your nipples to be touched, pulled, bitten?”

”Yes, Sir, e-especially when I'm-”

”Aroused?”

”When I'm ready to come, Sir.” Phoebe finally opened her eyes and lowered her chin enough so that he could see those beautiful sapphires s.h.i.+ning with need. ”I'm ready to come, Sir. Please.”

”I know that, Phoebe. I am watching you very closely.” Lach could feel that her sheath had relaxed its hold on his finger, so once again he started to slowly move his digit in and out, wanting to take her higher. Her cream was now dripping off of his knuckle. He pressed harder on her c.l.i.t with his thumb, making sure every nerve within her nub responded. She cried out and one of her heels almost slipped. His point seemed to be made. ”Who will now control your releases? Will it be you? Me? Will you hand them over to your Dominant, knowing I have your best interests at heart?”

”Sir, please...just a little more.”

”A little more?” Lach asked, knowing full well she was on the verge of coming. He watched her body and face intently as he continued to pleasure her. Phoebe's c.l.i.t was now a soft red, matching the inner walls of her p.u.s.s.y. It was engorged, wet, and now throbbed under his touch. Her breathing was coming out in gasps and right before he knew she would go over the edge, he stopped. ”What's my t.i.tle?”

”Sir!” Phoebe's body became still, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. ”Sir! Your t.i.tle is Sir.”