“I understand.” I acknowledged.
“Can I touch you?” He asked.
I nodded my head.
“Every question I ask you requires a verbal response.” He clarified.
I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” He said as he grabbed the back of my neck gently and traced the outline of my face with his thumb. His fingers brushed across my lip, then he leaned down, and our mouths connected. His lips were soft; the kiss was gentle yet dominant. I struggled to stay on my feet. His hand went from the back of my neck to the front; he gripped my neck firmly, causing me to clench my thighs.
We stood there wrapped in each other, his hands on my neck and mine awkwardly at my side. The way he kissed me made me shiver. When he pulled apart from me, I took a pause for a beat afterward with my eyes closed before I opened them to see the satisfied look on his face.
Then he slowly undressed me but left on the stockings and the heels, taking in every inch of my body with an intensity so deep that it made me self-conscious, but I shouldn’t have been. Because he was more admiring than critiquing.
He grabbed my hand and guided me over to this chair. It was similar to a massage chair in that your arms and legs sat in cushions. But it wasn’t for massages, because this chair had straps dangling from it.
“Have a seat in the chair.” He said.
I sat down in the chair and placed my arms and legs on the cushion of it. My legs were spread apart wide, and my pussy was wet and on full display. He knelt in front of me and licked his lips like he couldn’t wait to get to his meal.
By then, my breathing had evened. As soon as I relaxed, it spiked again once he was about to strap me into that chair.
“Dinero,” I called out abruptly. “I’ll sit in the chair, but I don’t want to be strapped in.” I was still skeptical.
His eyes came up from my middle to my face with a frown. “I need you to trust me. What we’re doing takes trust. Have you thought of a safe word?” He asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“We need a safe word.”
“The safe word is stop.” I said in a “well duh” kind of way.
He laughed.
“No, that’s not it. What’s a food that you hate?” He questioned.
“Tacos.”
He laughed again. “Fine. Taco is the safe word. If you say Taco, all play will stop immediately with no questions asked.”
I nodded.
“Now, I’m about to strap you in for the sensation that it’ll give you. If you feel uncomfortable while strapped, say "Taco," and I’ll let you out. Okay?” He questioned.
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” He praised me for remembering to use my words as he kissed the tip of my nose and began to strap me into the chair, one extremity at a time.
Once I was fully strapped, he went over to this cabinet and opened a package. He came back and pulled up a chair in front of me.
He grabbed a remote from the table near us and pressed it. A timer came on with ninety minutes on the clock, and the way I started laughing broke the seriousness of the moment and made him laugh too. It was a nervous laugh, but I was still amused by the fact that this man really was going to put his money where his mouth was.
“When I put these clamps on your nipples, the timer starts. Every time you orgasm, I want you to count it out for me until we get to five. Do you understand?” He demanded.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good girl.” He said as he took the second nipple clamp out of the package.
