Touch (Bdsm)

Fun.

Those words hung in the air between us like smoke. Floating harmlessly, until you breathe it in and choke.

Let’s begin.

Nervously my hands clung to my dress, pulling and readjusting the tight fabric.

“Take it off.”

I looked at him nervously, and unmoving. He noticed this hesitation and slowly removed his hands from their pockets, placing them on each of my small shoulders. His hands were warm on my skin and gentler than I expected.

“You understand what I am, don’t you?” he asked while stripping me bare with his steady eyes. I nodded on a shudder as his thumbs made small circles on my collar bone. “Then you understand what I want from you.” He took a deep breath as he moved his touch up to my neck. I arched back exposing my throat, and allowing his hand to encircle it in a firm grip. I closed my eyes, but could feel his body leaning into mine, and his breath heavy against my ear. “Take off your dress,” he whispered the demand.

“Now!”

My eyes shot open as he jerked my throat painfully before letting go of me completely, and backing away from my panting form.

He stood only a few feet from me. His glaze harder than before, and his hands at the ready. For a moment I doubted a man as understanding, and seemingly normal as this one could dominate me. That he could introduce me to this world. But those doubts dissipated in a puff of smoke the moment he turned from the man wanting me to think about my decision tonight, to the man making me doubt that the decision was ever mine. That any decision was ever mine.

His eyes narrowed as he waited.

Without further hesitation I fumbled with the fabric, reaching back for the zipper, and sliding it down my body. The cool air of the room hit me hard, and instantly caused goose bumps to surface. Though those weren’t the only things surfacing. My hardened nipples peaked, and achingly reached out. With only my panties on I’m sure he noticed, though he gave no comment to my obvious arousal.

His hand touched my stomach. Stroking my hip bones with his fingertips, before moving upwards to my breast, then grazing the nipple. His fingers left a trail of heat that caused the rest of me to shake and gasp, but I tried to hold still, stubborn. I couldn't let a stranger affect me in this way, but this kind of touch I wasn’t used to. It was more than lovers, there was no pretense, no foreplay. His was just a stranger one second, then the next he was touching me as if he had for years, as if I were his all along, as if my body was not mine anymore.

I thought this might bother me. That letting someone own my body would scare that girl inside of me who so desperately wanted to be a powerful independent woman. Yet it didn’t scare me. I had never felt so womanly in my life, and this femininity gave me power. So much more than I had been given in past relationships.

I cried out as he pinched my pointed bud. I wanted him to pull harder.

“Listen to what I say,” he spoke calmly. “Firstly you will only call me Sir in this room. You will do what I want, when I want, and I will punish you if you disobey. If this whole ordeal becomes too much for you to take, or you are in serious physical pain, just say your safe word and I will stop,” his hand casually resting on my breast began to rub and pull at my sore nipple. “You may choose your safe word now, something that you wouldn’t accidently say.”

 I considered a moment before saying, “Uncle.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, so I quickly elaborated.

“My brothers and I used to wrestle when we were young, and when one of us gave up we would call ‘uncle’.”

“This won’t be like wrestling with your brothers,” he said with a slight smile.