My body thrums with energy, my lips are kiss-swollen, my nipples are so hard they hurt, and my pussy throbs along with the rhythmic pounding of my pulse. I grip the edges of my seat to occupy my hands so that I don’t reach out for him.
“Let’s talk limits,” he says brusquely. “Firstly, when it comes to basic sexual acts, what’s on the table and what’s off? What is okay now and what will take time to build up to? I promise you, there are no wrong answers as long as they’re truthful.”
I sit up straighter, attempting to claw back some of my composure for a conversation that needs to be had. Thankfully, one of us still has their wits about them because I would have thrown caution to the wind after one kiss.
“I’m fine with oral, vaginal, and anal penetration with toys, fingers, or your cock,” I tell him.
“Fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back and bringing his fist to his mouth, biting down in a borderline feral gesture. My pussy clenches, and I’m frantic to feel this man’s touch. “What about my tongue? I can smell how wet you are, and I’m really hoping you’re going to let me eat that pussy.”
My cheeks burn with a wave of heat, a blush spreading as I realize that he somehow knows how embarrassingly soaked I am. "Yes, Sir," I stammer, my voice a little breathless, the words tasting like a mix of relief and embarrassment. "I would really like that."
“Thank fuck for that,” he says with a groan that chases away every ounce of shame. “I would have accepted it if you said no, but I’m so glad you didn’t. I’m desperate to taste your cunt. Youalso mentioned you like exhibitionism; you like showing off that beautiful body?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Sharing is a hard limit for me. They can watch, but no one except me gets to touch you.”
“I don’t want anyone else to touch me,” I say. My voice comes out breathy, and I’m already squirming with need for him. “That’s a hard limit for me too.”
“What are your other hard limits?” he asks and my cheeks heat as I think back to the last time I had this conversation.
“What’s the fucking point if you’re going to be such an uptight bitch?”
Madame Veleta is wonderful at responding to behavior unbecoming of the community, but her vetting process could do with work. I hate to generalize, but so many men have a completely warped view about the reality of safety within the dynamic. Or rather, they just don’t care. They aren’t here for the right reasons. So many see me and expect me to be a docile little Asian girl who will take whatever I’m given. I’m sure there are Dommes who do it too, but my experience is with men. Abusive asshole men who play at being Doms as an excuse for their completely viscous conduct.
I want to submit, not be abused.
“I need to be talked through a scene first, especially when we are going to engage in a new activity.” He nods, encouraging me to continue, and butterflies erupt at how open to this he is. It’s how it should be, and it’s what I wanted when I first entered the community, but it’s so far from what I have received up to now.
“If you are using impact play or punishment,” I continue, my confidence growing with every nod of acquiescence from him, “I need an even number of repetitions, and I need to know how many there will be before we begin. I need hygiene and cleanliness. Anything that has been in my ass is to be cleaned thoroughly before being placed elsewhere. I don’t like watersports or anything like that, but I’m happy with cum play. Absolutely no bondage, and if you want to gag me, I need to have an alternative way to indicate a safe word.”
“None of this is unreasonable,” he says firmly. “Is there anything besides exhibitionism you would like to explore or anything you have done in the past that you want more of?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never gotten very far when playing with others before my limits got in the way,” I admit as a blush creeps up my chest. I can’t tell him I’m such a control freak that I’ve never actually had sex with another person. But he doesn’t sound perturbed by my lack of experience or limitations. If anything, he’s leaning in, keen to hear every word.
“But you want to be dominated, so does that mean you want to be a good girl for me?”
A whimper escapes my lips and a zing of arousal shoots to my pussy. Because apparently yes, I absolutely want to be a good girl for him. I want his praise and rewards, but that’s not all. And he’s so open to everything I’ve said so far that it feels easy to keep talking about my needs.
“Yes, Sir,” I continue. “But I also want you to punish me if I’m bad. I want you to show me how to be good for you and let youtake charge of me. I can get lost in my head, and I need someone who can pull me out of that and help ground me.”
“Thank you for telling me that,” he says, standing up and moving his chair closer to mine before sitting again. His hand lands on my knee and tingles erupt that radiate upward and have me squirming. “I want to make you happy, and this is really helpful for my pursuit of your pleasure. The club safe word is the color system?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me, what color would you say if I wanted to spread you across this table and eat your pussy in front of everyone here?” His voice is a low rumble that warms me from the inside out. His breath dances across my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Green, Sir,” I answer breathlessly.
He runs his nose along the column of my neck while tracing a hand up my leg, stopping before touching where I need him to. “And what would you say if I suggested bending you over and fucking that tight little ass in front of everyone?”
A whimper escapes my throat before I respond with a resounding green. I’ve played with toys in my ass, but not with someone else. I know I love anal play, though. Maybe it’s the taboo side of it, or perhaps it’s the sensation. All I know is, I come quicker and harder when there’s something in my ass than from anything else.
“Tell me, Kitten, do you think good girls like to have their ass taken in a room with over a hundred people in it?”
I shake my head because my throat has gone too dry for words. Of all the things he could have called me—that is what he chose? If there’s a god out there, they have a twisted sense of humor.
He pushes his chair back from the table, lounging languidly with his legs spread, one bent at the knee while the other is straight out. Confidence seeps out of him, and why wouldn’t it? He’s well over six feet tall. His body is honed to perfection, judging by how hard and firm he felt pressed against me. And while his skin is mostly covered, save for a few of his shirt buttons being open, he is more appealing than any man I have ever seen in my life.
