“What’s a service sub exactly?”
And because she’s Renée, my extraordinary professor girlfriend, she doesn’t scoff or make me feel dumb for asking. “A service sub is someone who finds fulfillment in acts of service for their dominant partner. Those acts can look like a lot of things, both sexual and nonsexual. Often, this kind of submissive derives a lot of pleasure from focusing on their partner.”
Well she’s got me pegged.
I place a hand on her wide thigh. “You’re my favorite thing to focus on, Renée.”
“I can believe that,” she hums.
Something she said flies back into my consciousness. “Wait. What do you mean you’re a trained Dominant?”
“So, when Amber came back into my life, she opened me up to the lifestyle. I was educated and trained by other experienced Dominants and submissives. I’d go to these parties once a month and... let it all out,” she shrugs.
“Do you still?”
Her face softens and she cups my cheek. “Last time I went was before we started anything. Before the festival. Before we kissed in your living room the night you helped me face my fears.”
My heart swells with the enormous emotion we haven’t admitted yet and I kiss her hand.
“Even that last party I went to... nothing happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t want anyone else. Idon’twant anyone else.” Before she says another word, I’m pulling her into a kiss.
Several minutes later, when I’ve thoroughly expressed my appreciation and devotion in makeout form, she brings me back to our discussion. Once we're both more familiar with each other’s sexual appetites, she slips back into the Dommy Mommy Professor and I’mso readyto be her good little student.
She straddles my lap, and my cock is already hard from our discussion. “As punishment for failing your test today, Mr. Johanssen...” she starts, and I mentally squeal, “You’re going to lay here while I inspect every rippling muscle, every strand of hair, every crevice—and you’re not going to touch me. I might do this for five minutes. I might do this for the rest of our weekend.”
Wait, what?
Gently, she presses her hands into my stomach and massages up to my chest. “I want to know every inch of this body, starting with these tattoos.” True to her word, soft fingers travel over each piece, and I sink into her whisper-light touch.
I’m quiet while she explores, but occasionally she’ll ask me what each one means. When she asks about the head of a cat sporting a mohawk, I explain that it's Razzle Dazzle—our family pet, who by some miracle is still alive—and what she’s looking at is Agony Nectar’s band logo.
She laughs at the tattoo on my ribs of Animal fromThe Muppets, banging on his drums. She tells me it’s fitting andI preen. My whole body—from head to toes—is touched, tested, and gripped. The little patch of hair on my big toe is tugged, and I’m filled with pleasant confusion. Far be it from me to stop her, though—she looks to be having the time of her life.
When she begins paying special attention to my groin area, my dick twitches. If she notices, she doesn’t care. She’s laying between my long legs—playing with my sac before using both index fingers to open my slit? Then she licks my frenulum and I exhale a sharp breath.Yes! We’re doing this!
“Flip over,” she calmly instructs.
A complaint bounces at the end of my tongue like a diver, but I hold it back and obey. All over again she inspects the other half of my body, no more hurried. She pops a blackhead on my back and plucks a random hair from my shoulder. She asked me earlier if I was interested in spanking and pain, and I said I didn’t know but I’d be interested in trying. That pleased her. Surely she was talking about more pain than plucking a hair, right?
She takes even longer to inspect this side of my body and when I’m certain she has to be done, she commands me again. “Put your ass in the air.”
Uhhhhh…
“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge, Mr. Johanssen?”
I throw my ass up. “No, Professor Wilde!”
Two hands rub in large circles, and then she’s dragging a fingertip against my asshole.Oh God.
“You didn’t think I’d forget about this, did you?” she croons, and applies more pressure. “You didn’t honestly think I’d neglect this pretty little hole. Tell me no one has ever touched you here.”
“No,” I huff, and it’s the truth. I told her I was open to the idea because she blew my fucking brains out withthat blowie-taint job the other day, so I figured trying this might show me uncharted sexual pleasure, too. Real, true fear boils inside me at each pass of her finger over my back entrance. But then there’s hot, slick pressure sliding between my cheeks and my balls climb into my body. “Holy mother of God,” I bellow, and it’s quite possibly the lowest my voice can go.
She hums around my rim and I shudder. This is officially the most out-there sexual thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m scared, thrilled, and confused all at once—and I have the haunting realization that this may only be the tip of the iceberg for Renée.
Smack!
I yelp as a razor-sharp stinging sensation seeps into my ass cheek.
