I open the door and step aside, allowing James space to enter the room in his own time. The lighting is low, with a bed against the far wall, a small sofa to the right, and a worktop with cupboards on the left. I had asked for the most vanilla room from the concierge, so James isn’t overwhelmed with BDSM equipment and furniture.
James stands near the door and shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa. "Iz, I haven't a clue what to do. I’m sorry, I just… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know how to have sex, I know how to… Shit, you know what I mean, Iz. I just don’t know how to do this…" He sputters out, flustered as he gestures to the room. My stomach twists at how confused and lost he looks. I wish he could relax and embrace the experience.
"Sit on the sofa, James. Hands by your sides," I say gently. I remember my first time in the club; it hasn’t been all that long ago. James looks at the sofa and back at me. I raise my eyebrow. "Remember what I said, James. Reward or discipline. It’s your choice."
He steps in front of the sofa and sits, looking down at the cushions, then places his hands flat before glancing back at me, seeking confirmation that he’s done as I asked. "Thank you, James." I walk over to him and kneel
Alexandra Ravensbrook
between his knees. His eyebrows crease in confusion. "James, please understand something. You will submit to me and do as I ask. But don’t ever think I won’t get on my knees for you. I will always want to suck your dick. Is that okay?"
He lets out a surprised chuckle and gives me his lopsided grin. He relaxes into the back of the sofa and runs his hand through his hair again. "Isabelle, I would be fucking insane to say no to that."
He looks so sexy sitting there, legs spread open, his hair tousled.
"First things first, James. Some ground rules. Have you heard of safe, sane, and consensual? Or the red, amber, green system?"
He nods.
"Tell me what you understand it to be. I want to be clear that you know how to use it."
"Red if I need you to stop, amber if I need you to slow down, and green if I’m happy to carry on."
"If I ask you what colour, you must answer, or everything stops." I lean in, kissing his thighs, his muscles firm beneath his trousers. A small moan escapes his lips as his head drops back, his hands moving to my head. I stop kissing. "James, hands back in position, please." His head snaps up, and I sit back on my heels. His hands fall
Yes, Miss
to his sides again. "Remember who’s in charge." He nods, and I rise to stand over him. His eyes track my movements.
Kneeling over him, I straddle his hips and lower myself onto his lap, bracing my arms over his shoulders. Face to face now, I take my time studying him—his deep brown eyes, almost black in this light, framed by long lashes, strong arched brows, and an angled squared jawline, a slight shadow of stubble dusting his cheeks. His lips, slightly parted and full, beg to be kissed.
Running a finger along his jaw, I press it to his mouth. His tongue emerges, licking my fingertip before I push it deeper. He swirls his tongue around it, warm and wet. I pull free with a soft pop, then lean in, brushing my lips against his. Our breaths mingle, his sweet with rum and vanilla, making me want to lick and taste them.
His breathing quickens as I rock my hips in slow circles, feeling him harden beneath me. His cock rubs against my core, his breaths turning shallow, panting, until I still, settling fully onto him. His head falls back, eyes closing.
"Look at me, James." His eyes flutter open slowly, his pupils wide with lust. It’s time for his first lesson in restraint. I sit back and reach behind me to unzip my dress, slowly lowering the straps over my shoulders. His eyes follow every slight movement of my fingers, his hips starting to rock beneath me.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
"Stay still, James," I instruct. His hips stop instantly, his eyes now locked on mine. "You are not allowed to touch me until I tell you to."
His head nods slowly. His hands bunch into the fabric of the sofa, and his teeth drag over his bottom lip, biting gently. I’ve never wanted to be someone’s lip until this moment, aching to feel his teeth sink into my skin. I drop my dress to reveal my black lace bra, my nipples visibly pebbled through the fabric. I sit there, luxuriating in the heat under my skin from the way his eyes roam over me.
"I want to feel your warm skin against mine. I want to kiss them, take them into my mouth," he groans.
"Like this?" I tease, running my hands over my breasts and tugging on my nipples, letting a small groan of pleasure slip from my lips. His hands dig into the sofa, and I start to rock my hips slowly.
"Oh, oh God…" he moans. He’s doing so well.
"You’re a good boy, aren’t you, James? Desperate to touch me but doing as you’re told. I’m very impressed." I lean forward and press my lips to his, a shiver running down my spine at the contact.
"Can I kiss you? Please?" he begs.
"Yes." And at that, his lips part, starved and desperate. His hands stay down by his sides, but his tongue pushes against mine, searching for connection. "Touch me,
Yes, Miss
James," I breathe out, begging to feel his hands on me now, craving his touch. He grabs my hips, rocking me back and forth, pushing me down onto his hard bulge, making me moan and meet his movements. His hand moves to my breasts, cupping them. I’m startled by how gentle he is. His movements slow to an almost complete stop.
