Page 27 of Hard Discipline

But like I’ve thought once already, she’s different. She’s special. Tonight, she’s gotten under my skin and I want her to stay there.

“How best can I serve you, Master?” she asks.

I lean forward again, cupping her cheek the way I did before, wanting to touch her, lifting her gaze back to mine again. “However you like, sub,” I say.

She blushes again, heat flickering in her gaze, and I drop my hand, sitting back on the couch. Looking at her, letting her know I’m waiting for her to make her move.

And she does.

Rising with grace from the floor, she bends over me, her fingers reaching for the buttons on my shirt, undoing them oneby one. She’s unhurried and careful, as if she wants to make this slow unbuttoning last, and I find myself wanting it to last, too.

I watch her as she does it, observing the finely drawn lines of her face, the pale brows and sharp nose, the full mouth and pointed chin. And then further down over her throat and collarbones, to the softness of her breasts and pink and pretty nipples. It’s a leisurely journey I take as I look further, over her stomach and down between her parted thighs to where she’s even pinker. And slick, and hot.

Her hands shake as she pulls my shirt out of its tuck at my waistband, undoing those last couple of buttons. And I know she likes the way I look at her. Which is good, because she is quite the beautiful sight.

She spreads my shirt open and then eases it off my shoulders. I’ve already undone the cuffs so when she pushes the sleeves down my arms, the fabric slides off readily enough. Once I’m shirtless, her hands drop to my belt and she fumbles a little with the buckle. I don’t help her, since her light touches and shaking fingers are evidence of how badly I affect her, and I fucking love watching her deal with that. It’s getting me hard.

Finally she unbuckles my belt, then undoes the button and zipper of my pants and spreads the fabric wide. There’s no hiding how hard I am and since I’ve decided I’m not going to deny myself this time, I want her to know what her handiwork has done to me.

“What are you planning, sub?” I murmur, watching her pink face as she stares down at my cock as it pushes hard against the fabric of my boxers. “You’ve got me all worked up which means you’re going to have to fix the problem.”

“Yes, Master,” she says breathlessly, her fingers fluttering over the fabric as if she doesn’t quite have the bravery to touch me.

I put her out of her misery, saying quietly, “I told you to serve me however you like, so there’s no need to ask permission.”

She sucks in a little breath and then her fingers are on me, tracing the hard line of my cock through the fabric of my underwear. It’s a maddening touch, too light and gentle, but I don’t push her. I want to see what this woman is going to do next. She’s been nothing but surprises so far and I want to see what others she has in store for me.

I expect her to pull my dick out, but she doesn’t. Instead, she kneels back on the floor and attends to my shoes, taking them off with my socks, one by one. Once that’s done, she kneels upright and grabs the waistband of my pants, her gaze lowered. “Let me take these off for you, Master,” she says.

So I help her slide my pants off and my underwear too until I’m sitting naked on the couch. It’s not a situation I usually find myself in, in a scene. It’s the sub who gets naked and only if they’re very lucky do they even touch my bare skin, let alone see my entire body.

I have no problem with nakedness, it’s the intimacy of it that I have issues with. And yet sitting here now, watching my sub look at me with her eyes wide and her mouth a pretty O of surprise and pleasure, I’m wondering if I’ve been doing myself out of a few things that could have been very erotic.

She kneels upright on the floor in front of the couch, between my spread thighs, and then she leans forward and I expect her to go straight for my cock. But she doesn’t. Placing a hand on either side of the couch cushions, she leans in and presses her mouth to my throat. Then she moves down, raining kisses onto my chest and abdomen.

They’re light kisses, and gentle, and then she lifts her hands and begins to touch me with the same gentleness. I haven’t been kissed like this nor touched like this in years, as if I’m a preciouswork of art and worth taking the time over and I can’t believe how fucking incredible it feels.

I’m hard and getting harder, yet I don’t want to rush her. She’s sensual and delicious and her mouth on me feels too good. Her hands stroking my chest and the heat of her body as she leans forward between my thighs is intoxicating. The Master wants to play, to grab her head and force it down, push my cock into her mouth, but I hold back because the way she’s touching me feels too good to deny.

She strokes my stomach, leaning forward to place her mouth on my skin and I lift an idle hand, winding my fingers into the white-blonde fall of her hair. It’s soft and silky, and I stroke it, watching her mouth move lower and lower. The pale silk of it brushes against my bare thighs, the hot press of her lips moving even lower, and I find I don’t want to put her mouth where it needs to be. I like this slow exploration of me. I like the soft noises she makes as her tongue licks the muscles of abdomen, a little hum, and the feel of her exploring fingers moving over my thighs.

Sensuality, yes, that’s what this is. Unhurried. Easy. Touching for the sake of it, for the pleasure. I can’t remember the last time I let a sub do this, and maybe I never have. Maybe I’ve never let a woman touch me this way, not since Gabrielle.

Her fingers stroke down my calves and then slide around behind them and stroke back up, and a shiver goes through me. Fuck, since when do I shiver when a woman touches me? When usually it’s the other way around?

But I don’t want to stop her so I don’t, letting her lick me, touch me, caress me. Then she lifts her head, her face pink, her silver eyes glowing like stars.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“May I taste you, Master?” Her voice is husky and I can hear the hunger the words. Can see it in her eyes too, and I love that she’s hungry for me. I fucking love it.

“Yes.” I want that mouth of hers around my cock and I want it now, but I also want her gentle explorations, her little licks. My cock is hard, but my body is relaxed and I want to keep hold of that feeling. “But take your time.”

She smiles at me then, as if I’ve given her a gift, and something in my chest tightens inexplicably. She was wasted on that son of mine, completely fucking wasted. He’s too young, too full of himself, to truly understand what he had in her. He has the self-centeredness that young men do, not bothering to look beyond the end of their own dick because they’re too caught up in whattheywant. Which is not a criticism — I was the same at his age. But I’m not now, and I can see the things he doesn’t, such as her steel, her quiet courage, her glittering spirit. Her empathy.

She’s breathing very fast as she touches my cock, stroking it gently with her fingers. Again, she’s different. She’s paying attention, being careful in a way I don’t think another sub ever has, and it’s maddening. I’m so fucking hard, my body impatient, but I don’t want her to stop her delicate explorations.

She glances up at me, her silver gaze darkened now with desire, and even though she doesn’t ask I know she wants to see if I’m okay with what she’s doing.

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