“Don’t even think about it,” Lex said, reading my thoughts. “You don’t touch yourself either. Not until we say.”
“How am I supposed to function like this?” I whined, while grinding my hips against the counter.
“Very carefully.” Majesty moved to the counter and started assembling a breakfast parfait. Layers of yogurt, granola, and fruit went into a to-go container with practiced efficiency. “Eat this on the way to class. You’ll need your energy.”
“For what?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.
“For suffering beautifully all day for us,” Lex said, his voice dark with promise. “We’re going to keep you right on this edge. Going to make you ache. And you’re going to take it because you’re our good girl. Aren’t you, Cami?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then let’s go to class.” He offered me his hand to help me down from the island, and my legs were so shaky I nearly stumbled.
Both men steadied me, their hands firm and sure, and I wanted to hate them for doing this to me. But I didn’t. I wanted more.
The walk to the classroom was torture. Every step made me more aware of how sensitive I was, how much I needed relief. Lex walked beside me, his hand occasionally brushing against the small of my back, and each casual touch made me want to scream.
By the time we arrived, students were already filtering in. I took my position to the side, trying to compose myself, but I could feel both men’s eyes on me.
Majesty started the session at nine sharp, his voice warm and welcoming. “Good morning, everyone. Today we’re focusing on touch as emotional language. We’re going to explore how different types of touch can convey different emotions, and how to read those cues from your partners.”
Lex took over. “Touch is one of the most powerful tools we have for connection. A hand on the shoulder can provide comfort. A stroke down the arm can convey desire. The same touch in a different context can mean entirely different things. Today, you’re going to learn to read those nuances.”
I tried to focus on their words, but all I could think about was the way they’d touched me in the kitchen. The way Lex had heldmy wrists. The way Majesty had kissed me while Lex’s hands explored.
“Cami.” Lex’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Come here, please.”
I moved to the center of the demonstration area on unsteady legs. He guided me to stand in front of him, facing the students.
“We’re going to demonstrate different types of touch,” he explained. “Cami is going to tell you what emotion she receives from each one. Pay attention to her responses.”
His hand settled on my shoulder, firm and grounding. “What does this communicate, Cami?”
“Safety,” I said, my voice only slightly shaky. “Security.”
“Good.” His hand slid down my arm in a slow caress. “And this?”
“Affection. Intimacy.”
His hand moved to the small of my back, and even through my tank top, I felt it like a brand. “This?”
“Possession.” The word slipped out before I could censor it.
I heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Very good.”
Majesty joined us then, standing in front of me while Lex remained behind. “Different touch, different message,” Majesty said, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “What does this say, Cami?”
“Tenderness. Care.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. “And this?”
“Control.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Exactly.” He released me and addressed the students. “Touch is a language. Every gesture communicates something. Your job in a multi-partner dynamic is to learn to read these signals from all your partners simultaneously.”
For the next two hours, I was their demonstration model. They touched me in countless ways, each one building on the arousal they’d created in the kitchen. A hand on my hip. Fingers trailing down my spine. A palm pressed against my lower back.
