This story continues from part 1.

Her second and third test were more of the same: on her back, mounted, and slowly getting choked. As we continued it became obvious to me that she was getting increasingly aroused. At first she was embarrassed, and apologized the first time she let out an obvious moan. “Don’t be,” I replied. “Arguably, turning you on is the goal. You don’t need to worry about me taking things beyond what we’ve discussed without your explicit verbal consent. And besides,” I finished mischievously, “you’re hardly the only person who is aroused right now.”

She relaxed and we continued. For the fourth run, she wanted to try something different. “You’re sure I can masturbate?” She asked skeptically. “This is a college dorm room, not a massage parlor” I pointed out. That got a chuckle, and then she stripped off her leggings. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and her pussy glistened in the candlelight. As she passed me her leggings, I felt a large damp spot in them as well.

I pulled her up into a seated position with her back to me and our bodies nestled together. She was so much smaller than me that her hips easily fit between my legs, and ours lay side by side on the bed. Her dress was hitched up to her waist, all pretense of modesty gone. I wrapped my left arm around her waist, pulling her tight and keeping the skirt out of her way. She started to finger herself and moan, then paused clearly confused. “Aren’t you going to-“ she began, but was suddenly cut off when two of my fingers used her words as an opening to reach deeply into her mouth.

“Hush now, little slut,” I cooed as my fingers pressed past her tongue and to the top of her esophagus. “Just close your eyes and feel.” I held her there while she masturbated, letting her adjust to the feeling of my fingers in her mouth. She picked up the pace and used her spare hand to twist her nipples as her mouth flapped around my fingers, trying instinctively to moan. The smell of sex filled the air, as we sat together in the candlelight. She traded her fingers for a vibrator so she could focus less on what she was doing and more on the sensations she was feeling.

When I saw she was close I removed my fingers from her mouth and started squeezing her neck again, mostly for safety but also to ensure I had a good grip on her (she had previously mentioned orgasming while unable to move was a fantasy of hers).

Elle came hard. She spasmed and bucked violently against me as I held her firmly in place. As she started to cum she pushed the tip of the vibrator inside of her and let go, her hands flailing ineffectively on my wrists while the vibrator provided steady stimulation throughout the orgasm.

After her second orgasm in this position, we took another break and checked in. Elle wanted to fuck, but I demurred as she was deep into subspace, had previously expressed a strong disinterest in it, and I didn’t totally trust her decision-making faculties.

She grabbed the front of my yoga pants and pulled them back, but I stopped her and wrestled her to the ground. “Don’t lie, I know you’re horny” she pouted.

“I am,” I replied, “and after you leave I’ll be masturbating to this experience. But for now this is where we are going to draw the line.”

We took a longer pause and she seemed to remember herself. We refilled the water glasses, cuddled, and as she left she thanked me for not fucking her. “This is a safe space designed for avoiding bad decisions,” I pointed out. “Including ones that feel good in the moment.”