Jessica doesn't trust men. Worse, she has a string of short relationships and runs away when things get too serious. Demons from her past resurface when she meets him, Angel Seth Saint, her new teacher with a burning look. And, even if the young wom...
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Room three: the humiliation room
...
I love the look of incomprehension on her face. Since she's new to BDSM, it's really easy to confuse her. And also, I have to admit, a lot of fun. The slightest thing awakens that drop of excitement in her eyes. Like a kid in front of a new toy. Except that in this new red-walled room, she'd better hold back her emotions and concentrate on my orders.
I asked her to change. She did. A black jumpsuit, a fitted black corset and knee protectors now cover her beautiful body. If only she could see herself through my eyes, she'd be speechless, like me. It's so pleasurable to see her sitting on her heels, her gaze downcast and her hands resting delicately on her thighs.
I get behind her and give her a swat with the leather.
"Back straight!"
She complies. Damn, we've come a long way! And happily so! The next exercise will require great dexterity and impeccable attention. I run my hand over her unruly hair and stroke it. I like the feel of it, but I had to tie it up. They might get in the way.
"You're going to be a good girl, aren't you, Princess?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Well, then."
Then I walk around her and sit down on the huge red sofa. I see her slowly look up. There's still some work to be done on discipline. Especially since she thinks she's discreet. Oh, that's not the case, princess. I can feel your pupils moving a mile away, even before they land on me. Just like the first day...
"Here!"
I tap the leather of the furniture between my spread legs and she moves forward on all fours. Hence the knee pads. I don't want her to hurt herself. It's going to be an exhausting evening. It would be a shame to have to cut our play session short because of an injury. Although I'm not sure I can count on her to tell me she's in pain. I intimidate her but I always see that little apprehension in her eyes.
She's always afraid of offending me and that I'll go away with a snap of my finger. That's why I always keep an eye on her. I prefer to make sure she's all right. Besides, it's a good thing I've got relatives in the Italian police. A cousin with foresight saw fit to call me. He found my number in her phone and thought it was the right thing to do.
A helping hand for which I am indebted to him. But it was clearly worth it. It would have been a shame for that cute little ass to sleep in a cold cell. No, I'd rather warm it up with a whip. But first things first.
When she gets between my legs, I stroke her head again. She closes her eyes, not suspecting for a second what's happening.
"Remember what I told you at the police station, princess?"
