Letting Go (Letting Go Series #1) (11 page)

“Stand up,” he commands.

I obey.

“Take off your coat.”

I unbutton my coat and shrug it from my shoulders. Before I can drop it to the floor, Sir takes it from me. What he does with it, I’m not sure.

“Very nice,” he says.

I hope he’s not talking about my coat.

“I like the look of you in your underwear and heels,” he continues.
“Very sexy. The coat hid your outfit nicely. One of these days we’ll have to go out with you dressed like that.”

“What?” So many thoughts are racing through my brain
that I can’t think of anything else to say.

“Go out.
On a date. Maybe to dinner.”

He’s not serious, is he? I hope not. I might have to use my safe word for that.

“Go to dinner in my underwear?”

“Well, you’d keep your
coat on, of course. I’ll be the only one who knows you’re wearing almost nothing underneath.”

Okay, that doesn’t sound quite so bad. Maybe I could do that
somewhere down the road. It does sound kind of naughty and fun.

“
Except when I order you to open your coat to show off to someone,” Sir adds suggestively.

Oh, no. Here we go again. I’m back to thinking about my safe word.

“I don’t know about that, Sir.”

He laughs. “Of course you don’t. It’s nothing you would do now. But in
a few weeks or a month, you may feel differently.”

Will I, I wonder? I don’t see how. But a month ago I couldn’t have pictured myself doing what we’re doing now, so who knows? I guess I don’t have to worry about it yet.

Any further thought on the matter is pushed from my brain when Sir’s hands slide up under my bra and pinch my nipples. The familiar electric current shoots through my breasts and travels straight down to my already wet vagina. I truly am putty in his hands.

“Come this way,” he says, pulling me forward by my nipples.

I follow obediently. His grip on my nipples is so tight I’d have to follow even if I didn’t want to. But of course, I want to.

“Stop,” he says.

His hands leave my breasts and I sense that he has moved around behind me. When he speaks softly into my left ear, I know that I’m correct.

“I’m going to lift your blindfold for three seconds,” he says. “There’s a counter in front of you with some things on it. I want you to look at them and nowhere else. Understood?”

I don’t fully understand what he’s doing, but I do know what he wants me to do.

“Okay.”

He slaps my right butt cheek, hard. My hips jump forward, more from the shock than the pain. I bump against the counter.

“Okay?” His voice is sharp. “W
hat did I tell you about ‘okay’?”

Shit. I fucked up.

“You told me that it’s never a proper response to a question or a command,” I reply. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“And what is the proper response?”

“The proper response is ‘yes, Sir,’ Sir.”

He spanks my butt one more time.
This one stings a bit more than the first one.

“See that you remember that.”

The distress I feel for disappointing him is worse than the pain from the spanking.

“Yes, Sir.
I will.”

“Now, what are you going to do?”

“When you lift my blindfold, I’m going to look at the things in front of me and nowhere else, Sir.”

It can’t hurt to keep using “Sir” right now to make up for my goof.

“That’s better. Get ready.”

I feel his han
ds at the back of my head, playing with the strap of the blindfold. A moment later, the blindfold is lifted from my eyes.

A surprising
array of objects is spread out upon a white bath towel on the counter in front of me. Some are everyday items, some I recognize as sex toys, and others I don’t have a clue about. I don’t know why Sir has chosen to display such an odd collection of stuff, but I’m certain he has put every single item there for a reason. Knowing I only have three seconds, I try to take a mental picture of the counter.

Sir slips the blindfold back over my eyes and I’m returned to darkness.
My imagination begins racing in a dozen directions.

“Tell me everything
you saw,” he says.

Even though I’m blindfolded, I still close my eyes to help myself
recall. Luckily, I’ve always had a pretty good visual memory.

“I saw a big
red candle, a lighter, a bucket of ice and a black ping pong paddle. There were two vibrators.” I pause for a moment, remembering how expertly he’d used a vibrator on me the last time I was here.

“Describe the vibrators to me,” Sir says, interrupting my list.

“One was big, with a white plastic handle and a foam ball about the size of tennis ball at the end.” That one was definitely not the one he used on me. “The other looked like a plastic or rubber penis.” Maybe he used this one, though he never penetrated me. “There was a small, curved extension part way down—I’m guessing to hit my clit.”

“Very good, Jennifer.
What else did you see?”

His first use of my name tonight throws me for a moment. I wonder if he
’s waited this long to use it on purpose. He doesn’t seem to leave much to chance, so I’m guessing he did. I return my concentration to the mental image of the counter.

“There was a round metal bar, about three feet
or so long, with some kind of leather straps on the ends. I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s called a spreader bar,” Sir informs me. “Go on.”

I want to ask the purpose of the spreader bar, but know that I shouldn’t. If he wanted me to know, he would have told me.

“I saw a couple of
thick blue ribbons that look like they might have been made of silk or something similar. There was also something with a wooden handle that had five or six strips of black material attached to the end. The strips were maybe a foot long. The way they were bent makes me think the material was cloth, but it looked more solid than cloth. I’m not sure how to describe it any better than that.”

“You’re doing fine, Jennifer. What else do you remember?”

“There was a string of rubber or plastic beads and a small chrome egg.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, there were several more things, but I can’t remember what they were. Give me a second, please.”

I strugg
le to remember what else I saw, but I come up blank.

“I’m sorry
, Sir. That’s all I can remember.”

He
slides his hands around me and up under my bra. He begins gently squeezing my breasts. I sigh at his touch.

“
You did well,” he says. “You only missed a couple of things.”

“
Thank you, Sir.”

He begins squeezing my breasts a bit harder. It feels wonderful. He’s moved his head close to mine, because I can feel his breath on my ear.

“Those are all things I may use today, Jennifer,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sure you must be wondering how.”

Fuck yes I’m wondering about some of them. My heart is beginning to race as my imagination kicks into overdrive. I know
now this is exactly why Sir gave me the glimpse of the counter.

“Yes, Sir.
I am.”

His f
ingers have found my nipples. They’re hard and swollen from his touch.

“Well, then…we’d better get started
. Before your curiosity runs away with you.”

Too late, I want to say, but I remain silent.

He pulls his hands out from under my bra. A moment later, I feel him undoing the clasp. He slips the bra over my shoulders and down off my arms.

“Turn around,” he command
s.

I spin slowly around.
His arm brushes mine as he steps past me. He’s getting something from the counter, I’m pretty certain. But what?

“Hold your hands out in front of you,
” he says. “Wrists crossed.”

I do as I’m told, placing my right wrist atop my left.

He begins wrapping something tightly around my wrists, binding them together.
The material is soft—it has to be the silk ribbons. My heart rate spikes. I knew we’d be getting into bondage eventually, but I wasn’t sure it would be this soon. Like so much of this new world I’ve entered, being bound is both scary and exciting. I feel like I’m his captive now, a prisoner that he can do with as he wishes. And of course, within certain limits, I am.

“Kneel,” he commands.

I drop to my knees.

“Take off my pants.”

I reach forward, feeling awkwardly for his belt with my bound hands. There is no belt, only an elastic waistband. He’s made this easy for me—he’s wearing sweatpants. I grab the top of his sweats and begin to ease them over his hips. The pants catch on something in front, and it takes me a moment to realize they’ve probably caught on his erection. I smile—it’s nice to know he’s as excited as I am.

I don’t have permission to touch hi
m there, so I carefully stretch the waistband out toward me and pull his sweats down toward his ankles. He lifts his right foot and I pull the pants over it. We repeat the process with his left foot.

“Suck me,” he says.

Wow. I’m a little surprised by how quickly we’ve gotten here this time. I hope it’s because he just couldn’t wait to feel me pleasure him again.

I find his cock with my right hand and discover that he’s fully erect. I’m not quite sure how to hold him with my wrists bound like this, but I manage to circle my fingers around the base of his shaft.

Now that I know exactly where he is, I lean my head forward until my lips feel his soft mushroom head. I kiss it tenderly several times, then stick out my tongue and begin licking slowly up and down the shaft, flicking my tongue when I reach that sensitive spot just under the head. I hear his breathing quicken.

Finally, I op
en my mouth and take him in, sliding my lips slowly down as far as I can. I thrill to the way his hardness fills my mouth and seems to come alive as I move my lips up and down on him.

P
ushing all extraneous thoughts from my head, I give myself over to pleasing him fully. The more he responds, the more into I get. I can sense that I’m getting him close, so I’m more than a little surprised when I feel his hands on the side of my head and he pulls himself out of my mouth.

“That’s enough,” he says.

Enough?
How can that be enough? What guy stops a girl from sucking him when he’s that close to cumming? None that I’ve ever been with, that’s for sure.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“We haven’t done nearly enough for you to receive your reward yet,” he says. “You need to earn that.”

As unbelievable as it seems to me to feel this way, it
would
have been rewarding if he had allowed me to finish him. I’m not quite sure what to make of that, but I don’t have time to ponder it.

“Stand up,” he says.

I dutifully rise to my feet.

“Take off your thong.
Leave your shoes on.”

I pull my thong down and step out of it, leaving it on the floor at my feet.

“Lift your hands up over your head.”

I raise my bound wrist above my head.

“Higher. As high as you can reach.”

I stretch my arms
upward. Ten or fifteen seconds go by without a sound from Sir. What is he doing? Is he just standing there, staring at my exposed body? Or is he getting something else from the counter? I wish his carpet wasn’t so plush, so I could hear his movements.

I
get at least a partial answer when I suddenly feel him fiddling with the ribbon that binds my wrists. He must have gotten a chair to stand on, or a stool. It feels like he’s tying more ribbon up there. Why, I’m not sure. After a moment, I no longer have to hold my hands up, because something is pulling them upward for me. I’m guessing he’s fastened the ribbons to a hook in the ceiling. Since I’ve never really seen the inside of his condo, I have no idea what kind of ways he may have modified the place for his play.

“Spread your legs,” he tells me.

It’s not that easy to do, with my heels sinking into the carpet and my hands suspended way above me, but I manage to inch my feet another foot or so apart.

“Wider,” he commands, letting a little bit of slack into the ribbon that’s attached to the ceiling.

With my hands slightly lower, I’m able to spread my legs farther apart.

“That’s good,” Sir says. “Keep them like that.”

He makes some adjustments to whatever is holding my arms up, and then I sense him climbing down from his perch beside me. I try to lower my arms just a little, but he’s only left me about an inch of slack. I could get some additional play in my bindings by moving my legs together, but that would be a definite no-no. I wait, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life. I can also feel that I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, too.