I’ve been dreaming of a character named Layla/Leila almost since I started writing…and finally Layla has shown up. Maybe I’ll think this everytime I write a story, but I absolutely adore Layla and Sarah and they’re my favorites right now.

 They explicitly discuss consent, and safety is a priority. Trigger warnings: there’s bondage, control, degradation/humiliation….but no pain nor consensual non-consent or non-consent.. There’s a lot of sexy banter and build up before… 

Chapter one 

I know a lot of people would say dating apps are terrible, or at least a terribly unromantic way to meet. They were probably my best bet. My hobby, painting, was too solitary for me to meet people.  I was too quiet for ladies night dances and the bar scene. Those sorts of things ended up with me standing near a wall, feeling awkward as hell. Like my dad, I’m an introverted computer scientist. My dad left Iran after the revolution with his new bride, my mom, to get his PhD in the bay area. I was born over a decade after they married, and was their only child. For a while, they tried introducing me to nice boys whose families they were friends with. About a year ago, I finally told them I wasn’t interested in men or the traditional life they had envisioned for me. I couldn’t marry one of those dudes - imagine being married to someone who wasn’t attracted to you sexually - and I knew it was wrong to give them all false hope. My parents didn’t say much, but I could hear the reproach and slight sadness when they told me about so-and-so upcoming wedding, or that some friends or family were new grandparents. I talked to them less and less over the last several months, and it made me feel resentful and unrooted. Our relationship hadn’t recovered after I told them, and I had the feeling it would never be the same again. I’m very much my dad’s daughter. Both of us are quietly determined, unyielding in our morality, and neither of us is likely to soften. 

Like many people, I turned to dating apps when I felt alone. Through one of them, I met a woman who changed my life. Rachel had a boyfriend, but she also wanted to date a woman. Her boyfriend, Ezra, was cool with this. I’m not normally into the poly thing, but hey, I needed to break my dry spell and she was cute. It sizzled, then fizzled. Oh, those weeks with her were so much fun. It was almost as if she was new to sex, and her giddy exuberance and eagerness were infectious. I had been falling for her a little, until the night we ended up at her place. She cuffed me to her bed, and, oh, she did some really fun things to me. At the end of the night, it struck me that her boyfriend was outside, and she would go back to him while I went home alone. When I left that night, I didn’t make eye contact with either of them, and ducked out as quietly and quickly as I could. I realized her unavailability and my aloneness would make it too easy for me to catch feelings. I was definitely not cut out for free love or its modern cousin, polyamory. So the next day, I broke it off, and that worked out for the best because we became close friends. 

One night, we grabbed Thai food and she leaned in excitedly to say “Layla, there’s someone Ezra wants to introduce you to. She’s a little older, like forty. Is that okay?”

Anyway. That means she’s a bit over ten years older than me. Hm. “Hm, I think so. Why does he want us to meet?” 

“She’s into women too. She’s sexually…I think she’d be a good match. And she’s pretty, smart, and just a good person. You’re both sort of the deep, thoughtful type. The age gap would be my only worry in introducing you.” 

“Does she have a name?”

“Oh,” Rachel laughed. “Right. It’s Sarah”

“How do you know about the sexually part?” My first thought was that I didn’t want my ex-lover’s leavings. I know that’s not a great way to view things, but something about the thought of having sex with someone an ex lover of mine had sex was uncomfortable for me. It was already weird enough that my ex-lover wanted to introduce me to someone. In my mind, I sighed. I didn’t have that sort of easiness about sex, because sex wasn’t light or play. It’s one of the most vulnerable things for most of us, really, so intimate, with so many emotions, dredging up childhood shit, and with all those concerns about psychological, physical, and sexual safety. 

“Oh, um, you know, I guess that’s something she and Ezra have in common. Though I don’t think she’s as, um, you know, into the exact same things. She mentioned to him that she wanted a lady who was into it and it was hard to find. Ezra mentioned it to me, and I thought of you.” 

I sighed out loud this time. Her boyfriend knows something about what I’m into sexually. I should have known. Something about them made me think of a closed circle, they were that close. Was he one of those straight dudes who liked fantasizing about his girlfriend having sex with another woman? Which would be fine if I wasn’t that other woman. Ugh, why did it really matter to me what he thought or if he got off on the thought of his girlfriend and me having sex? It wasn’t about me. So again, I thought I shouldn’t care, but I did care and it bothered me. Don’t fuck cute woman with a boyfriend again. I was a serious relationship only type of woman. I was too anxious for casual hookups. And right now, I was making myself anxious over something that wasn’t in my control. “Alright, sure, you can give her my number.” 

Two days later, Sarah texted me. After making small talk for a bit, she said she wasn’t entirely comfortable that I was eleven years younger than her. She said Ezra and Rachel had been so enthusiastic about us meeting that she decided to give it a shot. Sarah said still wanted to recognize that there was an age gap. She didn’t want to take advantage of my youth or inexperience, and so she promised me she’d be cautious and keep that in mind during our interactions. She also hadn’t been in a relationship for four years. That made me frown, because, as you may have noticed, I’m pretty sensitive. I felt wary that maybe she was being critical - maybe she thought I was immature or incapable - because I was younger than her. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt…maybe this was a good thing, since it showed she had morals and was thoughtful and…and as usual, I was overthinking.

So heart thumping, I deliberately relaxed. She seemed thoughtful. I thought I’d be a little flirtatious. Is that the only reason? Isn’t the thought of taking control of a younger woman hot? 

And here I thought you were a sweet thing and I was feeling bad for having thoughts of besmirching your innocence. Yes, it’s pretty hot, little girl. 

Whoa. I liked her response so much that I could feel the heat creep through my body. I may be quiet, but I’m not at all shy about getting what I want. If you’re really lucky, maybe you’ll get to find out if I have any innocence left for you to…corrupt. 

That makes me think you don’t have much. Maybe I could have fun with you. 

I really liked it when you called me little girl. But I’m not the kind of girl who just wants to have fun. But I know how to have fun…and I always make sure my ladies have fun too ;) 

Well then, naughty girl, you should put the brakes on your flirting and not tempt me into too much too soon. 

What will happen to me if I don’t 😈

Let’s just say I have a few ways of making bad girls behave. If you’re really lucky, maybe you’ll find out. 

Oh, I liked that. I liked that so much that I could feel the heat bloom between my legs. Slow down, I told myself, you haven’t even met and you don’t know if there will be any chemistry in real life. You don’t know a damn thing about her. But the wetness between my legs screamed at me to keep going. 

I feel like being a bad girl right now. 

Do you? What do you do when you’re bad? 

Sometimes, when I’m very bad, I play with my toys. 

What type of toy? Are you touching yourself between your legs? Are you…slippery?  

It’s a big, buzzy magical wand. Do you want to know if it’s slippery? 

Yes, I want to know if I’m making you wet. Take off your clothes, but keep your panties on. 

I took off my warm pajamas. Okay, they’re off. I feel cold.  

What do your panties look like? 

They’re black, lace. 

Are they wet? 

Yes. They’re soaked. 

You’re a very naughty little girl for getting your panties wet. And a very bold girl for flirting and teasing me. No, I don’t want you to touch yourself, and bad girls don’t get to play with their special toys.

Okay. Good night. See you in two days?

Yes. Are you going to be a good girl and do as I told you?

Of course. Should I sleep undressed like this? 

Yes. Sexy dreams, little girl. 

Hm, that little exchange was so hot. Cold and horny as fuck, I snuggled into my bed, hand between my knees, and fell asleep. I don’t know exactly when I woke up, but it was still dark. I felt so fucking aroused, was wet and aching with it, and I longed to ask her if I could touch myself. I whined and whimpered, tossing and turning until I fell back into light sleep. I woke up too early the next morning. I wanted her to tell me it was okay to touch myself. I hadn’t even met her yet and I wanted to give her my orgasms. That sounded…fun. 

Please, could I touch myself? 

You don’t have to ask. 

I want to ask. 

You’ve got some fight in you. I like that. ;) 

Should I use my fingers or my toy?

You’re aching to give up control, aren’t you? 

Yes. 

Do you need to get off so you can focus on work? Are you a needy little girl? 

Yes, please. Yes, I am. 

Go rub your clit with your fingers.

I laid down and opened my legs. I didn’t even know who she was yet, but I knew some things. I have this theory that you can sort of sense kinkiness, or kinky compatibility through small things. The way she responded to my flirtatious text, with a straight up sexual one through which she took charge of the interaction and I followed her lead showed me that. I knew she was thoughtful and had a moral compass, and those things made me feel safe to continue flirting. There was something about her concerns that felt really authentic. But I could feel her loneliness, and it somehow felt like mine. 

So my horniness, it wasn’t just a bodily sexual rush. No, the rush of sensuality coupled with the feeling of safety…the way that aroused me started somewhere deep in my mind and tingled through what felt like every nerve in my body. She had so many qualities that I craved. Her clever, quick banter got me wet. The speed, ease, and confidence with which she took control was so fucking hot. I wanted to hear her voice when she called me little girl. 

I imagined her telling me to open my legs wider, watching me getting wetter for her, my clit swelling with arousal. Are you a filthy, needy little girl? Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, may I come? I imagined her laughing at me, gently pinching my nipples while I gasped and soaked my fingers. Open yourself wider for me, show me how badly you need it. Such a greedy little pussy. Cum for me, little girl. And I moaned and gasped, and penetrated myself with two fingers. I could feel the pulsing pleasure tingling through my body…so close. Mistress, could I please taste you? Please, I want it so bad. Please…And I gasped again, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the frantic cries of pleasure at the thought of begging her to please, please, please let me lick her pussy. I laid back, fingers still soaked, and god, I wanted her pussy so bad. You haven’t even met her, all you did was exchange a couple of texts, slow the fuck down, I told myself, stop obsessing. 

Fuck it. I didn’t want to slow down. The next day, I kept up the recklessness when choosing an outfit. I wore the only short skirt I owned, high stockings, boots…hmm, a high necked shirt, and my favorite beat up leather jacket. The skirt though…I couldn’t even bend over in the thing. I fluffed my thick wavy black hair, broke out some eyeliner to accent my green eyes. They were definitely my best feature, especially because my hair was so dark and my skin was sort of light brown. 

I thought I’d be clever and get to the coffee shop early…but she was already there. Thick chin length hair, hazel-brown eyes, shoulders broader than mine, and several inches taller than me. None of that mattered. What mattered was the way she looked at me, calm, clear-eyed, a slight smile…somehow as if she saw right through my attempt to get there so I could have watched her walk in and scope her out. I could feel her strength in her level gaze, and I wanted to kneel at her feet in respect and humility.

But we were in a coffee shop and I’d just met her. I sat down next to her as if I was still sane. 

“Decaf? It’s too late in the day for anything else, and if we’re going to be sitting here, I want to give them some business. And if you’re okay with it, I’d like to buy that coffee for you.” Yeah, like I said, thoughtful.

“Yes, that sounds good.” Damnit, why couldn’t I say something clever? 

“Your order?” 

“Um, a decaf cappuccino. Thank you so much.” 

“Of course, Layla. Now, go grab that little table so no one takes it.”

I didn’t even think twice as I moved to obey. We started chatting. First, as is common with queer ladies, our coming out stories. I’d always known, ever since I’d felt the first flush of sexuality. She grew up lower middle class and was the first person in her family to go to college. That explained something about why she had control and self-discipline. Then, Sarah had almost gotten engaged in her mid-twenties, but couldn’t go through with it as it dawned on her why she didn’t really want to sleep with her then-boyfriend. We talked about childhood and families. Her family responded as coolly as mine. Both were accepting, but not quite supportive. She was more masc than I was…I’d say she was androgynous. Maybe she was non-binary. She said she didn’t feel particularly feminine or masculine, just sort of in the middle. She also felt like she was a woman, and she said she was old enough to be comfortable the way she was. I was straight up femme, even if I worked in a male-dominated industry and even though I didn’t wear short skirts normally. 

“Oh, and you decided to wear one today?”

I nodded.

“Alright, Layla. Would you be comfortable uncrossing your legs? Only if you’re comfortable.” 

I suddenly felt like air had left the room. “Yes,” pushing my knees slightly apart. I felt her foot against mine, then the other one, kicking my feet apart a little wider. I helplessly, thoughtlessly parted my lips, my breath coming a little faster, watching her watching me. Anyone could see us, anyone could see up my skirt if they really tried…

My skin tingled as she leaned in closer. “How does that feel?”

“It, I, oh….”

“You’re enjoying it, I think? But are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes, I am, M-Sarah.”

“Some part of me wishes I had a fork to drop right now, but I -” 

I leaned in even closer. Her eyes were beautiful. Clear, almost hazel. “If you did, I’d open my legs a little more and maybe you’d see how wet you’re making my panties.” 

She was absent-mindedly rubbing her lower lip “Layla, would you like to go for a walk? They’re closing soon anyway.”

“Yes”

“Layla,” she said when we were outside. “Rachel and Ezra told me about - you and Rachel. So I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why? I ended it.”

“I’m sorry I know. I’m glad they told me when they told me about you, but I also want to respect your privacy. I don’t know anything sexual, just that Rachel said you had some submissive tendencies. They go beyond tendencies in our interactions. Rachel said you broke it off because you didn’t want to get hurt. And I’m attracted to you - god, you’re gorgeous, with that hair and those eyes - but you’re young. I don’t want to rush and hurt you.” 

“I’m glad you know. Yeah, I broke it off after three weeks because I didn’t want to get attached and feel hurt. I’m new to the circle. I’m a sub. I guess, you know I’m a sub. I’m a lesbian. I’m nerdy and over eighty percent of the people in my field are men. I paint in my spare time. And I think I’m a bit isolated because of all of that, and I don’t know, I don’t open up that often to people. So with Rachel, I never fully submitted. It was like, sure, there was some light D/s play. It’s weird, because we had sex, but I feel like I’ve submitted to you. It feels like I’ve done more with you.” 

“I get the feeling that you want to submit to me very badly. My read on you is that, like a lot of subs, you tend toward anxiety and overthinking. Being controlled soothes some of that anxiety. Some anxious folks get wrapped up in their heads with anxiety. You though, you’re the type that became more thoughtful and kinder to others because you think so much.” I stared up at her, wondering how she knew. She paused. “Would you like a hug?” 

I didn’t answer in words, instead moving into her warm embrace. I pushed up against her, feeling my chest flatten into her…

“You’re a very naughty little girl.” Oh my god, I could have melted there and then. 

“I feel like being a very bad girl.”

“Yeah? Would you like it if I found us a dark place and put my hand up that slutty little skirt?” 

“Yes, please.” I moved back toward her, not caring if anyone saw me. 

“Soon, but not now, and not tonight. I want to get to know you better, and I don’t want to until I know this isn’t going to end with hurt feelings. ”

“We can never know that,” I scoffed. 

“Ah, youth. You’re not afraid of a broken heart. I’d rather we get to a point where we both know we’re serious about one another before I make you submit. Though,” she looked amused, “seems like I don’t have to make you do anything.” 

I scowled. “I hope I never get to the point where I’m afraid to fall in love. You’re saying to take it slow, but you’re speeding along just as fast as I am. You’re controlling me in making me wait. It makes me want to kneel at your feet and beg to please you.”

She laughed. “And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“How did you know about my overthinking?”

“I picked up on it when you were telling me about your parents, and how you didn’t want to give them false hope and how you didn’t want the families of the men they were talking to have false hope either. I think it’s wonderful that you think so much about others, and it makes me feel protective toward you. A lot of people care about others, but you think deeply about them, which means you care more. Which makes you vulnerable.” 

 “You’re thoughtful too. And you have a moral compass of your own.”

“Yes.” She spoke with so much self-awareness and confidence, not even bothering to ask me how I knew. “I don’t want to hurt others. Nor do I want to take advantage of them for my personal benefit, even when they’re practically throwing themselves at me and you keep escalating because you want them too. Especially not when they’re as sweet and lovely as you.” 

“I - I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be. It’s very flattering. I’m glad that you know what you want. Seems like you always have. It’s very sexy, especially when it’s coming from someone younger, like you.” When she said that, I lost what little doubt I had that she liked me. The thought made me smile. “Keep smiling like that and you might wear down my resolve even faster, green-eyed little minx.” 

I grinned at her, nearly laughing. What resolve? “Oh, no. I’m enjoying this.” 

For our second date, the slow tease and deep conversation continued over Korean food across the street from the coffee shop we first met at. I loved the neighborhood: it was slow, almost sleepy for San Francisco, surrounded by the ocean and green space, and it reminded me of the bay area of my childhood. I felt so comfortable here, because I loved this city and it deeply felt like home. And with her…everything felt like magic. We were sitting over a too-big table full of too many small dishes and I longed to be closer to her in the way you do when you meet someone new that you’re terribly excited about and terrifically attracted to. I thought her face to be so interesting, and couldn’t imagine I’d ever tire of watching her. 

“Do you want to see my apartment?” I asked shyly as dinner finished up. 

“Will you be a good girl?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. I promise, Mistress.” 

She shook her head. “You…you’re an incorrigible little minx.” 

“You bring that out in me,” I laughed. “It means I must be comfortable with you.”

“It’s only our second date. Being pursued by my sub is an interesting experience.” 

“Oh, really? Your sub?” I gave her my most wicked smile. 

When we walked out, I told her excitedly about what I loved about the city. And she told me how she’d fallen in love with it after breaking up with her last boyfriend and moving here. It was a safe refuge for her then, when she was young and still figuring herself out. 

"Would you like for me to ask for your consent each step of the way? Or would you rather I make you submit, little minx?”

“I - I want you to take it from me. Surprise me, within our limits of course.” 

When we arrived, I showed her around. Kitchen with a large dining area, living room, and my painting room. It was an odd room, long and narrow, the size of a large closet but with a window at the end. I painted small, sensual pieces, influenced by Persian miniatures but very modern. Strange how that part of me came out in my art in a way that it didn’t in my day-to-day life.

“Layla, these are gorgeous. They’re absolutely stunning.” I mean, of course she would say that, but that she was studying them excitedly suggested she actually meant it. “They’re so sexy…so detailed…such color…” I could feel myself beaming…floating on a cloud of happiness and light because the person I wanted as my lover loved something that was important to me. You know the feeling, I’m sure. ” 

And lastly, still feeling quiet, I showed her my little bedroom. She closed the door behind her when we walked in. I knew what that meant, and I wasn’t sure how to react or feel. Scared? Happy? Excited? Shy? Nervous? Yes, but above all, horny as fuck. 

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated. “I - Mistress, please, um, okay.”

She grabbed me, bending me over her arm with a hand very loosely curled around my throat before she pushed me onto my bed. “I don’t really like pauses, little girl. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Now, take off your fucking clothes and let me see how wet this makes your pussy.” 

I stood up, and pulled off my sweater, jeans, and socks. I hesitated, nervously, when I got to my bra. And she came over, and pulled me onto her lap. One arm held me down, and with the other, she captured my right wrist, then my left, using my surprise and speed to her advantage. I squirmed under her as she held me down, face down with my ass in her lap. It was as if I was held by the coldest, immovable vice grip in existence. My struggling didn’t affect her at all. 

Could I have fought her off? Maybe. But she was the Mistress I wanted, and I didn’t dare disobey her. Her level-headed control…I could feel my heart thumping. I had no idea what she had planned for me. I had been very flirty and acting very cute and a little bratty sometimes, but I knew almost nothing about what she expected as a dominant. Had I been a bad girl? Had I earned her anger? Was she going to punish me? And if so, what would that punishment be? I quivered, squirming, fearful of the unknown. A helpless little girl, overtaken by someone with so much more power in my own home. 

“Please Mistress, I’m sorry.” I squirmed. Her still power was so terrifying in that moment. It was almost as if she crackled with it, and she was so goddamn unaffected by me. There’s something about that type of power, the kind that comes from supreme mastery of one’s own self…it was so much more frightening, so much more powerful than the loud kind. 

“Are you? You’ve been such a bad girl, such a seductive little minx.” Her voice was low, betraying no hint of how she felt or what she was going to do to me. 

“Yes, Mistress, I’m sorry. I’m still learning to please you. Please. Please don’t punish me.” 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, little minx. I’m not interested in heavy pain, and I don’t punish. I do like seeing how much degradation you’ll take to please me, and I’ll use that with little rewards to train you to be a good girl. Next time we do this, you’ll be in ropes and cuffs.” Her face was near my pussy, and I shivered in humiliation. “I can smell how horny you are.”

I wasn’t afraid. Well, not exactly, I wasn’t afraid for myself. It was more that I was afraid of displeasing her, when I was going crazy with how much I wanted her. “P-pul-please Mistress. I didn’t mean to be a bad girl. It’s just…you just…I just feel so horny with you.”

“Flattery will only make me harder.” That made me feel so small and helpless. She quickly unsnapped and pulled off my bra, reaching down and pinching a nipple until I yelped. Then she pulled down my panties, so that they stopped near the tops of my thighs. “You’ve been such a good girl all your life, haven’t you? So smart, so used to getting what you need. But today, I’d like to teach you how to exist only for me in these moments. Now, close your fucking legs, stop arching to show off your sexy little ass, and stop trying to rub your needy pussy against me.” 

I nearly cried in embarrassment, because I hadn’t even noticed how I was trying to find some friction against my needy clit and hole, or how my desperate writhing meant I was pushing up my ass while she watched. What got to me, took me even deeper into infatuation, was her absolutely calm, her control, the way she gave away nothing as she easily outsmarted even someone as smart as me. 

“I’m going to give you a spanking, naughty little minx, because you keep pushing your ass up and enticing me with this round softness.” She caressed it, rubbing her hand in a circular motion. Truly, I felt so small then, with my panties pulled down to my thighs. I felt so much that it was almost overwhelming: humiliation, fear, lust, infatuation, connection, belonging…and the mad, crazy desire to please her, to kneel at her feet and beg her to tell me what I should do if I wanted to stay there. I felt like I was half-crazed with longing for her to touch me. 

The anticipation of her spanking was like the slow climb up a roller coaster…and those seconds before when you’re still at the top, then the drop, when I felt the flat of her hand landing perfectly dead-center in the middle of my ass, breaking the silence with a loud clap of impact. The heady rush of everything hit me, and I sniffled and stopped holding back tears of frustration and humiliation. 

I arched up again, crying in embarrassment and scared but craving more. If she wanted this, I wanted it too. She slapped my ass again, and I whined and moaned. The thought of being trained to exist for her pleasure then made me weak and wet. And again, landing on the same spot perfectly, so that I cried out. And harder while I shrieked. Then she smacked my right side, then the left, and my face crumpled into my sheets, as I cried and writhed for her. And again, center, right, left, harder, softer, alternating in a beautiful pattern that completely did me in because I could tell how careful and thoughtful she was in this. I let go, shrieking and crying with that sinful pleasure, going almost giddy with it. 

When she finally finished, releasing my aching wrists, I slid to the floor, between her legs. I put my face there, then looked up. She nodded, and I pushed my thumb between her legs, wishing her pants weren’t in my way, rubbing her before I kissed her there. I moved my face, smelling her arousal, and kissed it again. I felt heady with how near she was, that this was turning her on too…

“It’s so easy to turn you on. And you react so well. You may stop now, sweet little pussy worshiper.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” 

“Take your panties off.” I sat there, in a kneeling position, naked while she was still clothed. “Now I want you to open your legs, with your knees up.” My face burned as I pulled them off while staying in a sitting position, and hung my head down as I opened my legs. “Good girl. Now, push your labia apart with your fingers. And spread your legs wider, let me see everything.” That made me even more wet, and I could feel my horniness dripping down my ass, between my legs, maybe on the floor. “Now, push up the hood covering your little clit” It felt so embarrassing and so fucking good to show off my clit to her. “You have a beautiful pussy. Give me your wet fingers.” I was on my knees, holding my fingers up obediently for her. She took two from my right hand and two from my left into her mouth, and sucked hard, using her tongue to lick them as she sucked and I moaned. I don’t know why, but that felt so amazing, as if there was a line connecting my fingertips to my clit, which sizzled with wet arousal. I whimpered as she withdrew. 

Then we sat there, quietly, with my head leaning on her inner thigh. She nuzzled my head, fluffing my already-wild dark waves. “You look happy, minx-girl.” 

I sighed. I was happy, and even though we hadn’t kissed or had sex, I somehow was weirdly satisfied. It was an emotional, almost spiritual satiation, because what we had just done seemed more intimate than just sex. “Yes. I fantasized about this, kneeling at your feet.” 

“Is that a fetish of yours?” She wound a hand in my hair, tugging it so that I rose. 

“I - I’ve never done it before. It somehow got into my head, and then I couldn’t get back out.” 

“Is this the first time you’ve played with submission that doesn’t lead to sex?”

I nodded. I wanted to do it more, I wondered how more would feel. 

“Don’t fall for me because you’re enjoying this.”

“I’m enjoying this and I want to do this because I fell for you. I know it’s too soon, but it…just…happened. I couldn’t help it. I’m not in love with you, not yet, but I could be one day.” I looked up at her. She was so lovely, in an old-fashioned way, with a strong-featured, clear-eye face that reminded me of Katharine Hepburn or Lauren Bacall. Hers was the type of face that didn’t need youth to be attractive. She was full of life, wise, and that combination made her seem ageless.  

“That makes sense. I feel the same way.”

“If - if it didn’t work out, I think I’ve learned something about what I want, and you will leave me better off than I was before you.”

“That’s the best we can hope for, isn’t it? But I’m hoping and thinking it will work out.”

I settled back on my knees again, sighing contentedly. “Come on, little girl. Let’s rehydrate and I’ll leave you for the night. If I don’t go now, I might stay over, and it’s too soon.” 

I fell asleep, naked, almost as soon as she left. When I woke up in the middle of the night, my half-asleep brain wondered why I was naked. I shifted, and slowly became aware that my ass was a little warmer than usual. It was a reminder of being naked and showing off my soaked pussy for her pleasure. I hadn’t minded that I hadn’t orgasmed. Could I? I decided not to risk it, instead loving the feeling of being wet and horny, and left aching for more. I rolled over, thinking of how wet and messy I was making my sheets, and deliciously sinful it was to sleep in that messiness. 

For our next weekend date, we left for an oceanside hike early. It was super-romantic, I thought while yawning and waiting for her to pick me up. When she arrived, she handed me a cappuccino and a pastry. “So a pretty girl could get an extra 15 minutes of sleep,” she said, smiling. We talked a lot while she drove, about everything and anything. We even talked about Ezra and Rachel. 

Alright, it was a bit gossip, but it was also us learning about each other and our limits through it. “Rachel seems to think it’s fun, like a really scary movie or a roller coaster. She likes that emotional amplification, the way he gets that close to - doing something terrible and she’s scared and horny and how the fear and arousal feed each other. I guess she must feel safe with him, and trust him, that he’ll never do anything to really harm her, maybe?” 

“Yeah, with CNC, the more real it is, the less consensual, and the less real, the more contrived. So I get going for real, but the sub could feel bad one day, no matter what the intent. I’m not doing that with you, no matter how much of a bratty minx you feel like being. No matter how much you trust me. It isn’t my cup of tea.”

“Oh, well, then, what are you going to do to me?” Yesss, I thought, we’re going to have sex. She’s planning on fucking me. 

“At the moment, driving you to climb some hills and see the ocean. Followed by a late lunch or an early dinner.” I could hear the triumph in her voice in not giving me the answer I was fishing for. I slumped in my seat. “Oh, you need it that bad, huh?” 

“Yes, I do. I’m going to, like, burst, or something.” 

“Oh, and what do you propose I do? Take you off trail, tie you up to a tree, and eat you out until you scream? Where anyone could see you naked and hear your moans and screams?” A mental picture of her doing just that, followed by me doing the same for her made me momentarily speechless. 

“You don’t know if I’m a screamer. Maybe you’d find out,” I said, sardonically. 

She laughed. “You are a very seductive little minx.” 

“Clearly I’m not, when I’m dying here of not getting to eat you out. My seduction isn’t working.” 

She laughed then opened the windows. “I can smell how horny you’re getting. You must be imagining it, little girl. Imagine being naked and tied up in my bed, begging to eat me out.” 

I sighed. She won that round of banter. But you know, I secretly hoped she would. It made me want to give myself over to her all that much more. 

The breeze fluffed my hair and she glanced over at it, then the rest of me. “Alright. How about, next weekend - we can spend the entire weekend together. Nights too.” 

“Really? Yes! What are we going to do?”

“Outside of fuck? Is there anything else you want to do? I mean, we’ll eat, sleep, shower, maybe take a walk or something. But I think fucking you silly is what you want, right?” 

A flush of hot, wet arousal went through me. “I want to actually suck and lick you out the most.”

“I know. Beg to please me, you said. But you’ll have to earn that. Why do you think I need a whole weekend?” She was grinning, pleased at her cleverness.