by AE Lister
There was pain in his expression.
“How long ago did you break up with her?”
“It’s been a while.”
“How long?”
He thought for a moment. “Five months.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
“I don’t mind. It was because I wanted this.” He gestured to himself and to me, and I understood what he was telling me. He lifted his eyes from his hands and met mine. “And she didn’t.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I’m fine with it. It just means I don’t have a huge friend network here and most of my family are out East. I mean, my aunt and uncle are here, but they’re kind of religious fanatics, so I don’t keep in touch.”
“I see.”
“So, um, I’m all yours on the weekends…if you want me.” He stared at his hands again.
I stared at his hands too. They were nice hands. His fingers were perfect for playing the piano…and for other things. I licked my lips. “I want you. Just Saturdays for now.”
The smile returned and he nodded. “Good.”
I went over the basic rules of piano playing—note placement, finger numbering, chords, all-while-trying not to imagine those fingers doing other, much more intimate things. It was difficult and it took all my professionalism to push those thoughts from my mind.
He was a good student and seemed interested in learning from me, above and beyond that he enjoyed me telling him what to do. But there was that too.
By the time we were done with his first lesson, he could do his scales and play the chorus to Let It Be with a bit of skill. I was pleased.
I saw him surreptitiously move his hand to his dick for a second and something inside me went off.
“Vincent.”
He froze, moved his hand back to the piano keys without looking up and started to do the scales as if nothing had happened.
“Stand up.”
He hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I forgot.” He was whispering and staring at the keys and that blush got darker, his cock got harder and that made me so, so happy.
I shoved the bench back and stood as he was forced to stand also.
“Lean forward with your arms on the top of the piano.”
He did as a tremor went through his whole body. “Fuck,” he said, as he assumed the position.
“Head down on your arms.”
He lowered his head and closed his eyes. I drank in the sight of him—slightly tanned skin, pink lace, firm muscles and lean limbs displayed for his punishment.
“I’m going to spank you, Vincent. You’re a naughty boy.”
He shuddered. He rubbed his forehead against his bicep. “Yes, Sir,” he squeaked.
Oh, God, he’s perfect. So beautiful in his submission… So delicious in his state of arousal at what was a pretty basic and simple punishment… Beginner BDSM as well as Beginner Piano. My sweet ingenue.
I had no doubt that Daphne had done more extreme things to him, but he was a beginner with me. I planned to go so slowly with him until he’d be begging for more at each visit. I wanted him begging. I wanted to drive him mad with desire, crazy with anticipation.
He knew as well as I did what there was to look forward to. The fact that this simple thing affected him so strongly gave me an idea what we were in for, and it was starting not to scare me so much. It was starting to make me just as excited as he was.
I placed my right hand on his elbow to hold him in place, while my left hand stroked over the lace on his ass. I did this for a few moments while his breath hitched and quickened. Then I pulled back and gave him a hard swat.
He grunted.
I did it again.
He moaned.
I began to spank him in earnest as he struggled to stay still. I didn’t go for too long. This was just a warm-up. When I stopped he was panting but not winded.
“Lower the panties, Vincent.”
His eyes flew open, then quickly closed. “Oh God.”
“Don’t move, except to expose your ass to me. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir.” It was a whisper as he moved his arms back, keeping his forehead pressed to the piano and fumbled with the panties until he got them down.
“Good boy,” I said and the breath he let out shuddered through him.
“Arms back up on the piano.”
He resumed the position and I had a chance to fondle his bare ass, which I proceeded to do. His skin felt softer than I would have expected. He must moisturize.
“Your skin is very soft,” I commented, smoothing the flat of my hand over his warm skin that was already a nice pink color from the spanking.
“Well…I moisturize,” he murmured and smiled as if he realized the banality of his comment.
“I can tell.”
“Is that too girly?” he asked shyly and I could hear a million apprehensions in that question.
I squeezed his buttock gently as I replied. “It’s perfect, Vincent. You’re perfect.”
I heard a strange sound and looked at his face, which he’d pressed against his arm. I realized he was crying just as I realized I had said that last thing out loud.
“Hey, hey,” I murmured, leaning in and kissing him on his cheek because it seemed like the thing to do. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He let the tears come. “Sorry… God, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
I took a shot. “Relief?”
He sighed. “Yeah. Probably.” He laughed and rubbed the tears away on his arm. “You don’t think I’m a pussy just because I like girly things.”
I smiled a bit sadly at his words. “I think you’re amazing, Vincent. I think you’re sexy and cute and pretty and manly and so, so very brave.”
He opened his eyes and stared at me from the top of the piano. “Thank you.”
“You want the rest of your punishment? Or do you want to go home now?” I rubbed the skin of his ass. “There’s no wrong answer.”
“I want my punishment,” he said without hesitation.
So, I spanked him. I spanked his bare ass with no mercy. He shed more tears but he also moaned with bliss and pushed his ass out to receive my hand, which began to ache after a while.
“Okay, we’re done,” I said finally, stepping back and trying to control my own breathing. “Go to the bedroom and get dressed. Then come and sit with me.”
Fifteen minutes later we sat together on my sofa and talked about what had happened. I didn’t want him leaving without some aftercare.
“How is your ass feeling?”
“Good. Sore, but good.”
“Do you have arnica cream at home? I figure if you’ve been seeing Daphne for as long as you have that you do?”
“Yeah. I have some.”
“Put some on if you need it. That wasn’t much of a spanking, really.”
“I know,” he whispered. “Thanks for going easy on me.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want to come back next Saturday?”
“Yes, please. Definitely.”
“Good. I want you to wear the blue panties and camisole under your clothes next Saturday, Vincent.”
“Shit. Okay. Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
He grinned. “Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Six
I asked Vincent to let me know he got home safely. I’d input his contact as ‘Trouble’ for reasons that should’ve been obvious.
Trouble: I’m home. I had a great time.
Nic: I’m glad. So did I.
Trouble: See you next week.
Nic: Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.
Trouble: No, Sir. Good night, Sir.
Nic: Good night. Are you still hard, Vincent?
Trouble: Surprisingly, no. Thank God.
Nic: Yes. No wanking, remember?
Trouble: I remember.
Nic: I will know if you do, Vincent.
Trouble: How is that possible?
Nic: Because I’m goo
d at what I do. *Smiley face*
Trouble: Very good. *Super smiley face*
Now I had a super smiley face as well. But I put my phone away.
As I puttered around and my brain spun with memories of my day with Vincent, my heartbeat increased and I realized I was sweating like a mofo. I felt overwhelmed and trapped. He was beautiful and amazing and I was really into him, but that scared the fuck out of me at a very basic level. I’d always had a commitment phobia, and right when I found someone who pushed all my buttons was its cue to go off.
I called Daphne because she knew that.
“Hi, Nic. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“Daphne, I’m having a panic attack.”
“Oh goodie! That means it went well?”
I snorted out a laugh because she was right on the ball, but I still felt like running away and changing my address so Vincent would never find me. “Yeah, he’s fucking perfect. It’s terrible, Daphne. What have you done?”
I heard the sounds of a chair scraping across the floor as Daphne sat down. “Sweetie, I want you to take a seat and talk to me. What are you so afraid of?”
I sat on the sofa and rocked back and forth while I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath and think about my answer.
“That he really likes me.”
“Why does that scare you?”
“What if I disappoint him? How can I live up to the image he has of me?”
“What image does he have?” Daphne’s voice was firm and calming.
“I don’t know. Of ‘the perfect Dom’?”
She laughed. “Whoa, Nic. I mean, that’s a bit narcissistic.”
“True.”
“You don’t know what he’s thinking. But the fact you think it might be that means that the day went well, which makes me happy.”
I took a deep shuddering breath. “Oh God, Daphne. I don’t know if I can do this. I want to run.”
“You are not running, Nic. My reputation is at stake. I told Vincent you were wonderful.”
I groaned. “Why the hell did you do that, Daphne?” I felt the panic rise. What am I going to do?
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Nic.”
Thank God for Daphne. “Okay. Okay.”
“You’re going to run yourself a hot bath.”
“Okay.”
“You’re going to pour yourself a glass of wine.”
“Okay.”
“Then, you’re going to get yourself off.”
“What?”
“Mast-ur-bate,” she said, enunciating clearly.
“Okay. Fine.”
“Twice.”
“Twice?”
She laughed again. “Or even three times. If Vincent was that good, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Fine.”
“Because you know as well as I do that unreleased sexual tension feels a lot like anxiety.”
That was absolutely bang on. “Right. True.” It was a good plan. And it might just work.
“You are not allowed to text Vincent anything. If you decide you don’t want to see him anymore, you will have to tell him in person.”
“Ah, hell. You are a cruel, cruel mistress, Daphne. And I love you so much.”
“Awe, baby, me too. Me too.”
I took some deep breaths and went about following Daphne’s orders to the letter. The nice thing about having friends who worked as Dominants? They could make you behave when you needed them to.
The bath was lovely, the wine delicious. By the time I crawled naked under my sheets with my favorite glass dildo, I felt much, much better.
The thing about a nice tempered glass dildo? They were hard as rock. And you didn’t need any lube. If you were the least bit wet, they just slid right in. No fuss, no muss. Instant pleasure.
It took me about two minutes to come the first time, which showed just how aroused I was and probably what had triggered the panic attack.
My second orgasm came after another ten minutes of visualizing Vincent sitting at my piano in his pretty pink lingerie, then bending over it for his spanking. Fuck, that image would stay with me for a long time.
I already felt a ton better.
The other great thing about glass dildos? They pressed solidly against my G-spot so I came like a banshee if I rubbed my clit at the same time. I’m talking whole body orgasms that left my limbs like Jell-O and my brain like mush.
Still, I went for number three. This time I imagined Vincent’s long fingers inside me, front and back, his tongue on my clit and his bottom red from the spanking I’d given him. I was getting closer and closer, then imagined tying him down and riding his cock until he begged me to let him come and that was it. Over the edge and to the moon.
Afterward I lay splayed out in my big bed, panting and exhausted and feeling much better about everything.
Before I went to sleep, I texted Daphne:
Thank you for the advice. You were right, as usual. Love you.
She texted back almost right away:
When do you see him next?
A week from today.
Wow. You might have to repeat this entire ritual next week. Or every night until then?
I feel a bit bad for Vincent now.
Why?
Because I told him he wasn’t allowed to get himself off and here I am enjoying three epic orgasms, all because of him.
Oh God, Nic, you have to tell him about them! He’ll feel so hard done by, so used and abused. He’ll love it!
Yeah, probably. Am I a sick pervert, Daphne?
Yes. The best kind. Lol.
* * * *
Sunday morning, about nine-thirty my phone rang. It was Vincent, aka Trouble.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sir? I’m so sorry to bother you. Am I bothering you? I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
He sounded good on the phone. I hadn’t really noticed the soft, deep timbre of his voice until this moment.
“No, you’re not bothering me. And yes, I’m up.”
“Oh. I…uh, I just remembered you saying something about IKEA furniture and I remember seeing a box in your living room yesterday. Like I said, I’m really good at putting IKEA furniture together, and if you wanted… I mean, I could come over and help you with it. Or I could do it all for you. Sir?” He sounded eager and apologetic, and it was so nice to hear his voice. My panic from the night before seemed irrelevant.
“You mean today? It’s Sunday. Don’t you want to relax?”
“I mean, if it’s not convenient… I just… I’m not doing anything and I’d love to put some furniture together for you.”
I tried not to laugh because he was desperate and it was so sweet. And I did want him here.
“It’s perfectly convenient. Would you like to make me lunch, as well?”
I heard his indrawn breath. “Oh! Yeah, of course. I’ll make you lunch then I’ll put your stuff together.”
“Can you be here at eleven?”
“Yes, Sir. Of course.”
“See you soon, Vincent.”
While I waited, I finished my coffee and took a leisurely shower, looking forward to seeing Vincent again. He arrived on time, looking apologetic but cheerful. He was wearing faded jeans and a navy T-shirt under his jacket, as well as a wide smile on his face.
“Hi, Sir. Thanks for letting me come over.”
I grinned, finding it easy to do. “Well, you gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’d like tomato soup and grilled cheese for lunch. Soup is on the counter and you’ll easily find the fixings for the sandwiches. You can make some for yourself, too.”
“Of course. Thank you, Sir.”
“Are you a good cook, Vincent?”
He shrugged as he removed his shoes. “I’m okay. I can definitely do soup and sandwiches.”
“Excellent. I’m going to have you strip to your cute little panties. But you can leave your T-shirt on so you don’t burn yourself or get any splinters later.”
Vi
ncent froze, staring at his feet. “Um.”
“You did wear some cute panties, didn’t you, Vincent?”
“I kind of forgot. I’m so sorry, Sir.” He looked up at me, mortified.
I tried to look severely disappointed. “Well, I should have reminded you. But please be aware that I expect you to wear pretty lingerie under your clothes whenever you come to my home. I should make you strip to nothing, but in the interests of keeping my hands to myself today, the boxer briefs will be fine.”
He nodded sadly but glanced up hopefully. “I can work naked if you want.”
I smiled. “It’s okay, Vincent. Just keep your T-shirt and boxer briefs on. But I will expect you to wear the baby blue panties on Saturday.”
“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”
He looked so good in his white boxer briefs and navy T-shirt that I felt kind of relieved that he’d forgotten the panties, because it was a struggle to keep my hands off him as it was. But I was determined not to touch him today. He was only here to perform some entirely non-sexual service for me and I thought that would be good for both of us.
Things had gotten down and dirty fast the day before and I felt like we needed to slow down. I wanted to get to know Vincent as a person, not just a young man who seemed willing to let me do whatever I wanted with his body.
I busied myself with a few things in the living room while he made lunch. When he was done, he served it on the kitchen table and we sat and ate together. Next time he made us lunch, I was going to feed him, but for now, I left it like this.
“When did you realize you liked wearing women’s panties, Vincent?” I asked because it was an aspect of him I was very interested in.
He sipped some soup off his spoon. “Uh, a few years ago I guess?”
I let my lips slide into a pleased smile. “And, uh, how did you find out, if I might ask?” I was picturing him trying on a pair of his girlfriend’s underpants as a joke or something and figuring out how great they felt and looked on him.
He rubbed his thumb against his eyebrow. “Well, I uh, saw a guy in a magazine wearing them and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, I ordered a pair of panties online. I only wore them once in a while.”
