Once the condom was in place, he stretched out over her, cock probing for her entrance. Jen wrapped her arms around him, loving the feel of his hard body against hers. He found the opening and pushed inside. The way it stretched her made it uncomfortable for a moment, until she adjusted to his invasion. Realizing her difficulty, he stopped and waited for her. Once ready, she squeezed and nudged him. Then he pulled out and thrust into her again.
The fire of need blazed into renewed life and she jerked each time he plunged in, filling and completing her. It felt right, so right, in a way it never had with anyone else. He touched a piece of her soul as he claimed her body in this timeless, male way. His moans of pleasure sang like music to her. They fit together perfectly, breast to breast and cock to cunt. The way he needed her was its own joy.
She tightened around him, rocking and jerking in time to his thrusts, and the fire licked all over her, the pressure growing until she couldn’t contain it anymore. With one final, hard thrust, he took them both beyond constraint into orgasms that shook and rocked them. Jen screamed as the release jerked her up into a high arc, then dropped her into a sublime peace.
Blake collapsed down on her, then rolled to the side, bringing her against him in the process. They held each other, still joined, as the aftershocks jolted them but failed to disturb the amazing sense of completeness and peace. She could happily stay in his arms forever.
“Jennifer? Are you okay?” he asked after she’d settled down.
“No.”
He rose onto an elbow and stared at her, eyes wide in shock and dismay.
She touched his lips. “I’m not okay. I’m so much better than okay it’s not in the same time zone.”
His lips quirked, though the expression never quite got as far as being a smile. “I’m glad. I am too.” He looked around. “Do you want to stay here or go back to the dorm?”
“I’d rather stay here, but since I don’t have a change of clothes, or even a toothbrush with me, I suppose I’d better go back.”
* * * * *
Blake waited outside the calculus classroom the next day, hoping to see Jennifer before it started, but the professor walked in first, and stopped to ask, “Is Miss Jansen’s tutoring helping?”
“Very much,” he admitted. He looked around but didn’t see her approaching.
“She’s late most of the time,” Professor Scott said. “A very disorganized young woman. Very smart, though. A superb mind for math.”
“She said she plans to apply to the Architecture school for next year.”
“She mentioned that,” the professor answered. “I’m sure she’ll be accepted. But I worry how she’ll cope with it. It’s a challenging program. If she doesn’t learn some organization and self-discipline soon, I’m not sure she’ll make it through.”
“She does have a problem there. I hope she can grow up a bit too.” He sighed and followed the professor into the class. Jennifer arrived a few minutes later and took her usual seat across the aisle. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep from glancing her way a couple of times. Twice their eyes met. She smiled at him, a look that warmed his blood and made his heart rate speed up.
He had a problem. He’d suggested a one-night stand, but sleeping with her once wasn’t going to get her out of his system. Worse, that little hesitation when he’d ordered her to get on the bed, the hint that she wanted to refuse just to see what he would do, made him wonder if she didn’t have some leanings toward his own kinky desires.
He couldn’t bear waiting until next Monday night to see her again. A group, mostly guys but a few girls too, always surrounded her after class ended, but this time he waited, standing to one side of the hall. After seeing him, she shooed the others away, in the friendliest, gentlest way possible. He had to admire her gift for getting people to do what she wanted.
The smile she turned on him packed enough power to light the city for a week or so. “Hey!” she said.
“Hey back at you. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”
“Friday?” The pleasure on her face faded as it tightened up in thought. “‘Fraid so. Saturday too. Nothing Sunday though.”
“I guess Sunday will have to do. Can I pick you up at six? We can do dinner and then maybe a movie?”
“Sounds good. Blake—” She put a hand on his arm and his pounding pulse sped up some more. “I wish I didn’t have anything else this weekend. I’d really prefer to spend it all with you.”
“Maybe,” he said. “We still have things to discuss.”
She moved closer so he could hear when she whispered, “Last night was the best sex I’ve ever had. And something tells me you can do even better.”
“I told you it was a one-night stand.”
Her grin made his heart pound and cock fill as she answered, “Didn’t believe it then. Don’t believe it now. You wouldn’t have asked me out again.”
“Triumph of hope over good sense.”
She stared at him, her brow wrinkled. “Don’t you ever smile or laugh?”
That took him aback. “I…I used to. I guess I haven’t for a while. Kind of got out of the habit in the army.”
“We’re going to have to do something about that.”
Before he could figure out how to answer that, she added, “Gotta go. See you Sunday.”
“Don’t be late,” he called after her.
She turned and winked before walking away.
* * * * *
Jen had been getting more and more bored at parties over the last few months, but the two she went to that weekend were the worst yet—endless and dull. Her dates blathered about trivial, meaningless things. The dancing was okay, but she couldn’t find her usual enjoyment in it. She normally limited herself to two beers and watched what her date drank as well, but on Saturday she had three, simply to help her bear the tedium.
She’d have been much happier doing dinner and sex with Blake Daniels.
Her date Saturday night tried to talk her into coming to his room with him after the party, and when that failed, he kissed the general vicinity of her lips and fumbled at her breasts as soon as he parked at her dorm. It wasn’t fair to the boy, but she couldn’t help comparing him with Blake. Maybe Blake hadn’t really been much smoother, maybe it was all about her feelings and reactions to the man, not the effort. She didn’t let her date get very far and tried to reject him as gently as possible.
Blake Daniels had taken up residence in her thoughts and refused to be shaken loose. The plan to get him interested by teasing him with small touches and relentless cheerfulness had worked better than she could have imagined. She had a new plan now. Teach him to smile and learn to enjoy life again. Her goal was to coax a real, full belly laugh from him. After that… Well, she’d see.
It felt like a week passed, instead of three days, before Sunday evening arrived. When he finally called to let her know he was on the way, she went down and met him in the parking lot. The weather had turned cooler as September ended, and she dressed for it in a light sweater over the lace-edged camisole and deep blue tights that matched the deep blue skirt.
Blake looked incredibly handsome in a long-sleeved blue-and-white striped dress shirt, open at the throat, with dark chino pants.
Dinner was at an Italian restaurant, and they spent most of the time comparing books they’d read for classes and for pleasure. His tastes in leisure reading leaned toward military nonfiction and science fiction as well as mystery and adventure novels, while she preferred fantasy, romance and cozy mysteries. There was a fair amount of overlap though, since they both liked many of the classics of all those genres.
He didn’t smile or laugh in all that time, but he’d lost the perpetual cold glower. His expression hovered in neutral, with occasional jaunts into intense concentration and rarer slips into an amusement that didn’t quite claim enough facial real estate to pass for a smile. The science fiction action flick they went to after dinner wasn’t great, but good enough to satisfy them both.
T
hey’d gone to the early show, so it got out at quarter to nine. He invited her back to his apartment, where he turned on the gas fireplace, but left all the other lights off, before he poured them each a glass of wine. It kept the room in fairly deep shadow. They both sat on the loveseat, but at either end, with a few inches of empty space between them. Once they’d toasted each other, they watched the fire for a few minutes in quiet contentment.
They discussed the movie for a bit as they let the wine relax them, but a rising sense of need created a different sort of tension. When the conversation about the movie lapsed, another charged silence ensued.
“I have to ask you,” he said, breaking the quiet after some time had gone by. “A few nights ago, when I told you to get on the bed, you hesitated. What do you think I would have done if you’d refused?”
She felt the heat in her cheeks, but doubted he could see her flush in the dim light. “Um… I don’t know. Forced me?”
He shook his head and let her hear his outrage. “Wrong answer. I would never force anything on an unwilling woman.”
“Oh. Good. But then… What?”
“I offer choices. So let me rephrase the original question. Would you have been appalled or excited if I’d suggested you deserved to be punished for your disobedience?”
“Oh, wow. Why don’t you start off with the hard questions?” She took another sip of wine. “This isn’t easy to admit, but I think the answer’s excited. But…I’m sure I’d ask just how you planned to punish me.”
“Under the circumstances there really is only one appropriate punishment, isn’t there? I’d turn you over my knee and spank you.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Of course, I’d ask if you agreed that you deserved it.”
“You— You would?”
“I don’t spank anyone who’s unwilling or really doesn’t want it.”
“But you do, er, spank people.”
He nodded and took a solid gulp of wine before he said, “There’s a group that operates off-campus and entirely independent of the university, though many students and even some faculty participate. It’s called the Disciplinarians group. Most people are looking to receive it, but there are a core of members who are willing to dispense it.”
“You?”
“Me,” he agreed.
“How does it work, this group?”
“Over the years, the owners have worked out a system where those who need discipline can come in, confess their misdeeds and receive an appropriate punishment. They make sure they have at least one disciplinarian on the premises when they’re open. Usually there are more. The requesters and the disciplinarians decide on an appropriate punishment and it’s administered. There are private, sound-proofed rooms for that purpose.”
“And for whatever goes along with it?”
“Sometimes the client screams or shouts or cries.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Oh. No.” He said it so sharply the wine in his glass rolled around and threatened to spill out. He took a sip as he settled down. “This is not a whorehouse or a so-called ‘massage parlor’. Discipline is all we do. Everyone involved signs a paper indicating they understand that. In fact, disciplinarians aren’t permitted to touch the clients in any sexual way. All punishment is done with paddles or other instruments, there’s no over-the-knees spanking and clients are expected to place themselves in the appropriate position and maintain it. Sometimes there are group meetings to discuss things or demos. But if some people want more than just the discipline, they have to make the arrangements themselves, outside of the club. The managers do random checks periodically to be sure the rules are observed.”
“Oh. That sounds kind of…cold.”
“It is what it needs to be. But it’s also true that sometimes members do become attached to each other and arrange for meetings for extended activities outside the group. As long as they don’t do it on the premises or break group rules, no one minds.”
“Have you?”
“Had a relationship on the side?” He swirled the bit of wine left in his glass. “I’ve only been back in the country for four months. I was a member before I left and, yes, I did have a short-lived relationship on the side back then, but it wasn’t serious. Since I got back, though, no. Until you, I wasn’t even really interested in dating again yet.”
“I guess I’m glad that I roused your interest, but how does this affect us? Or me? Do you want me to join this group?”
“No. Or only if you really want to. But I think I’d probably prefer you didn’t. Still, you need to know that this is a part of who I am and how I approach relationships.”
“I see…I think.” She tried to decipher exactly what he meant. After a couple of minutes, she gave up. “Okay, I’m not sure I do see clearly enough.”
“Not surprising. It’s kind of complicated and I’m not sure I understand all of it myself. But here’s what I do know. I can do normal—what we generally call ‘vanilla’—sex,” he said, soft and low. “And enjoy it thoroughly, when it’s with the right person.” He stared hard into her eyes for a moment before he continued. “But I tend to prefer it spiced with something more. A bit of domination, some spanking, toys. Sometimes fairly harsh, but never anything that would do real harm. Still, mostly fun and games.”
He drained the wine in his glass and reached for hers. “Refill?”
Jen handed the glass to him and waited while he went to the kitchen to pour some more. She already felt a bit lightheaded, but thought it might be more from trying to absorb what he was telling her than from the wine.
When he returned, he sat in the same corner of the loveseat and handed her the glass. Before he continued, he drew her to him, turning her so that she leaned against him. He put an arm around her and rested the hand on her stomach. Its heat simmered into her through the sweater and camisole.
She nuzzled her face into his neck, reveling in the smooth texture of the skin there and the deep, spicy fragrance he wore.
He twisted so he could get his mouth to her lips. The kiss was slow, deep, sweet and thorough. The heat curled through her again, rousing the pressure of need and desire. It seemed it took no more than a touch from this man to put every nerve in her body on high alert. Finally he broke the kiss and put a finger on her lips.
“Wait. There’s more to tell you before we… There’s more to what I want than just fun and games, and you need to know about it, even if you don’t want to do anything about it.”
She took another sip of wine. “Okay.”
“Even before I joined the military I believed in discipline, in the need for it in my life. But I take it more seriously than most people.”
“Hence the group.”
“The group, yes,” he agreed. “But I see it as part of my lifestyle too.”
“You’d expect your partner or mate to participate too,” she ventured. “Does it go both ways?”
“You mean both play and serious?”
“Actually I meant is it give and receive for both?”
“Oh.” He paused briefly. “Yes, both. But in general, I expect to be the dominant partner.” He went silent, letting her consider.
Finally she sighed and answered, “Is it okay to say I don’t know? I’m not totally appalled. In fact, I’m actually kind of intrigued… I’ve always had a few fantasies about a strong, dominant man who wouldn’t put up with any nonsense from me, and would even… And I’ve wished that some of the guys I’ve been with were a bit more adventurous. Even forceful. But it’s one thing to fantasize about it. I’m not sure I could handle the reality.”
“If we took it slow, a little bit at a time, would you try some? See where it goes?”
“I guess I would. It is sort of exciting…with you. I don’t think I’d want to do it with anyone else.”
“I don’t think I’d want you to do it with anyone else either.” He took the wineglass from her hands and set both his and hers down on a nearby table.
She wriggled closer
to him, settling her head on his shoulder while his hand went to her waist and worked its way under her sweater. Fingers crept beneath the camisole and up to her breasts to tease the nipples.
Jen laid her palm on his stomach, but instead of going up, as he had, she brushed down over the bulge in his trousers that showed his desire equaled hers. It took some work to undo the belt buckle and then the button at his waist, but once those were freed, she slid her hand down beneath pants and briefs to touch his cock.
He drew in a sharp breath and his head went back. Enjoying his reaction, she worked the zipper down a couple of notches until she could squeeze her hand into the space and wrap her fingers around the shaft. The feel of it sent another jolt of heat through her. The skin was so silky smooth it thrilled her to touch and caress it, but beneath the sleek surface it was hot and hard.
Blake let her stroke him for a few minutes, but then he pushed her gently away. He whipped her sweater over her head in a fast, graceful motion. The camisole followed shortly. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
“I’m under-endowed and I don’t sag.”
“You’re not ‘under-endowed’. You’re perfect.” To prove the point he enclosed each breast in a hand and brushed his thumbs over the tips. A sweet tingling radiated from the site. She put her hands on his shoulders for support. Driven by an urge to touch him as he did her, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, exposing the strong pectoral muscles and ridged abs.
“Speaking of perfect…” She stroked his chest, rubbing over the nipples and rough hair.
“Not even close,” he answered, pulling her toward him to take one of her nipples into his mouth. His tongue brushed and tweaked the tip, then his teeth closed over it, just hard enough to mix pain and pleasure into a rush of minor explosions inside.
“Dear God,” she murmured as he transferred his attention to the other breast. After exploring it thoroughly enough to bring her to a moaning, wriggling frenzy, he lifted her to a kneeling position on the loveseat, facing him, and released the button on her skirt. Lowering the zipper, he slid her skirt, tights and panties slowly down her hips, revealing an inch or so of her abdomen at a time. He moved to kiss each strip of flesh before rolling the bunch of fabric down. When he had it below the curve of her buttocks in back, but just above her slit, he sat up, then stood.
Jennifer's Lessons Page 3
