Page 52 of Kissing Kayley
Ohhhhhhh.
He pressed his hand over mine, activating the toy, and it buzzed to life.
“Clit sucker,” he said, evil joy threaded through his tone. “Did you like it?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s a hard green.”
He snorted. “Hard green?”
“Well, I mean, if there are flags and hard limits that are red, then it should apply to green too, right?”
“You’re too much, baby.” He kissed me, and I thought after a few minutes I’d be ready for another round, but the next thing I knew the room was dark and the clock read 6:22 AM.
Wow.
I carefully climbed out of bed without waking him, used the bathroom, and returned to snuggle with him. The next thing I knew, it was after eight, and I smelled coffee.
“There she is,” Vic said next to me.
I yawned as I sat up. He was reading on his tablet, a mug of coffee in his hand. “How long have you been awake?” I took the mug and sipped. Fortunately, we liked our coffee the same way.
“Not too long.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “How do you feel?”
“Pretty damned good,” I said.
And then my stomach rumbled, making him laugh.
“The class is in ninety minutes,” he said. “Let’s take our showers, go eat breakfast, and then figure out what’s next from there.”
“Sounds good.”
He took the mug from me, kissing me. “You go start the shower and I’ll make you a coffee so you don’t completely finish mine.”
I hesitated, meeting his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. That this feels so…easy.”
Heboopedmy nose. “Not everything has to be complicated, baby.”
“That hasn’t been my experience, unfortunately.”
I finally got moving and we ate breakfast. Delicious french toast for me, with strawberries and whipped cream on top. Then we headed upstairs to the classroom. By the time class started, the room was full with over thirty people. We had a mix of fellow students from people dressed in regular street clothes, like me and Vic, to people dressed in full fetish gear. There were several couples who appeared to be Bigs with their Littles, too.
The instructor introduced herself as Dr. Carol Barstowe. “Welcome, everyone. I’d like to start this class by saying thatnobody, including myself, has a right to tell you that you’re doing something ‘wrong’ in your relationship, unless we’re talking about a safety issue…”
Dr. Barstowe was a clinical psychologist who apparently lived and practiced in Bozeman and was brought in regularly to teach. She called herself a Master and was married to her husband, who identified as her slave. As she explained their dynamic—and why she labeled herself a Master and not a Mistress—I found myself intently listening and absorbing her words. My only trouble with it was trying to keep myself in learning mode as Vic’s partner and not as a psychologist eager to delve deeper into the clinical aspects of it.
Three hours later, once the class ended, I had a far better understanding of kinky and nontraditional relationship dynamics than I had before…
But I still didn’t have concrete answers about me and Vic.
If anything, that now felt more confusing than before.
“What’d you think?” he asked as we headed downstairs.
“I think I’m glad we’re taking our time to do this right,” I said. I still worried that Vic’s need to have a submissive partner might be unfairly cast aside and eventually spell long-term disaster for us.
