‘Anything,’ I said. ‘Just not tickling. Sir.’
He laughed and pressed the flat leather against my parted pussy lips. I inhaled a breath of pure dread.
‘Anything?’
‘Can I trust you, sir?’
Those were the magic words. He removed the crop from the danger zone and rubbed my inner thighs with it again.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, a mite tetchily. ‘I hope I’ll be able to surprise you, though. I hope you’re going to be open to new experiences and new pleasures. I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.’
‘As long as you don’t … go too far.’ Was it safe to leave this to his discretion? I could ask him to stop at any time, after all, and he had promised he would. Plus, I could release myself from the Velcro cuffs if he forgot himself.
It was OK. It would be OK and I should stop trying to direct him, difficult as it was.
‘You can always tell me to stop,’ he reminded me, a reinforcement I needed to hear.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘You’re doing well,’ he said. ‘You haven’t tried to look up yet. That’s good, Lucy. Keep it up.’
The praise did a lot to calm my nerves and steady me for whatever might come. He began the flicking motion between my thighs again. He kept it up until they felt warm and a little throbby. I imagined their tender paleness was now pink. It made me wet.
‘How does that feel?’ he whispered.
‘I feel a bit stingy. I want to squirm but I can’t.’
I wanted him to snap that little leather flap against my pussy. I actually wanted him to.
But he didn’t.
Instead he rubbed it, so that the glorious coldness mixed with my heat. I wanted to push myself on it, to force it squarely on to me, but of course I couldn’t, and he made the most of his freedom to tease.
He lifted it, trailed it so gently over my sex, never giving me the pressure I craved until I was tickled and tormented into moaning protest.
‘You rev up quickly, don’t you?’ he said, sounding very pleased with himself. ‘That didn’t take much. Just a little attention to your thighs and you’re desperate. Oh, yes. I like this. Very promising indeed.’
Push it. Push it harder.
But he took it away and whipped it down, so suddenly I hardly knew what had happened, until my bottom was scorched with a bar of pain that must have made a welt.
‘Jesus!’ I sang. ‘Ow!’
‘Lovely,’ he said, rubbing the mark with his hand. ‘You have such a gorgeously spankable arse, you know? I can’t stop thinking about it.’
‘I didn’t know, but thanks for telling me.’ I had a feeling this was one physical attribute I might come to regret. Could one reduce the ‘spankability’ of a backside? Was there a fitness DVD for it?
‘I’m going to give it lashings and lashings of attention,’ he said, and I could hear the incipient drool in his voice. He laid another stroke, so hard I yelped.
‘Lashings,’ he repeated.
Another, right across the rounds of my bum. I could almost see the red raised rectangle it must have left.
‘And lashings,’ he said.
He put the crop back against my sex.
‘You’re very brave today,’ he murmured, moving it slowly up and down. I wanted to hump it. I wanted to gyrate my hips on its brutal black leather. Even better, I wanted Joss to climb up between my legs and fuck me until I had a mouthful of duvet and a red raw sex. Everything from my waist to my knees was hot as fire and my legs were shaking already.