Meeting Her Match - Page 16

I lifted the lid of my laptop. Should I? Could I? Was it best if I just deleted my profile off MasterMe and … No, I was not going to ask Duncan out. No way.

And Andreu was just one man, surely unrepresentative of domkind. I would get better at this. I would learn to sort the wheat from the chaff. The masters from the twats. I sat up, put back my shoulders and logged on.

Chapter Three

‘GET YOUR EGG timer, set it for thirty minutes, go to the corner of your room and stay there until you hear the alarm go off.’

I read through the instructions quickly then typed back.

‘Why?’

‘Because I told you to.’

I flipped my computer screen the bird and whispered, ‘Because you’re an asshole!’ but I was grinning as I went to the kitchen to carry out the task.

SecretSadist and I had a thing going on, though it was probably nothing as tangible as an affair, or as respectable as a relationship. It was, at this stage, just a thing. He sent me tasks and I completed them.

I heard the lit

tle xylophoney blurt that announced another message.

‘Have you done it yet?’

‘No, obviously, or I wouldn’t be replying.’

‘I don’t care for your tone, young lady. While you’re in the corner, I want you to consider long and hard what you have been sent there for. I want you to imagine all the things I might have in store for you, to teach you the lesson you so badly need. When you come out, I want you to tell me what you think you deserve in the way of punishment. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What are you going to be punished for?’

‘Excessive levity, sir.’

‘Exactly. Not to mention insolence.’

‘Oh, on that subject, I should confess that I just called you an asshole, sir. Sorry about that.’

‘You will be! Now set that timer and get to the corner. Thank you for your honesty btw.’

I put down the timer and put my nose in the corner, imagining SecretSadist to be sitting in my armchair, long legs crossed, hands steepled, spectacles halfway down his nose.

Now this, I thought, folding my hands behind my back, was more like it. The kind of fun that made me squirmy and damp between the thighs, without the fear or unpredictability of that awful meeting with Andreu last weekend. SecretSadist seemed to have the measure of me, gleaned from a great many evening conversations by instant messenger, during which we had pared our kinks down to the bone. They matched. And he was in no hurry to corral me into a meeting. We were going to take it slowly, see how things went.

I shut my eyes and relaxed into the feeling. I was wearing, as instructed, only my underwear, including a pair of stockings and suspenders I hadn’t seen since that wet weekend in Bognor with Gareth. My nipples were teased by the chafing lace of my bra cup, held in a state of perfect stiffness, waiting for a touch, a kiss, anything to justify their engorged ripeness. Cool air drifted down my bare spine to the powder-blue suspender belt, on which my crossed hands rested, the thumbs pulling at the elastic for something to do. My thighs were goosepimpled above the stocking tops. I rubbed them together, enjoying the friction of my silky knickers against my clit. Was I allowed to do this? Was I allowed to be frisky in the corner? I would have to ask.

Perhaps it would add to my punishment. Oh, glory. Just the thought of the word, not even spoken out loud, made my stomach tighten and my knickers drench. SecretSadist was going to punish me. But how? I pushed back my bottom, feeling the silk stretch tauter over my cheeks, imagining myself bent over for SecretSadist’s cane.

Oh God. How much longer? I peeked at the egg timer. Still ages to go.

How would his hands feel, on my slippery, sheeny bum? Patting and tapping, stroking and sliding and then, smack, a hot red handprint to remember him by. Would he be very angry with me if I unclasped my hands and slid a finger inside the elastic ..? I didn’t have to tell him.

No, Cherry, you do.

There was no point to this if I was going to cheat. I had to follow the orders to the letter, or I might as well give up.

If I was going to make it through the next twenty minutes, though, I needed to stop thinking horny thoughts and empty my mind.

Empty your mind, empty your mind …

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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