“Good,” he said. “And I like to pet them. Love to tug your tight nipples and hear you moan when I give you pleasure.”
“I…I’m not moaning,” I protested.
“Very well—not moaning. Purring like a kitten, then—one which wants very much to be stroked.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I felt at that moment there was nothing I wanted more than to feel his big hands on me, caressing my bare breasts, tugging gently on my tight, aching nipples…
Hardly knowing what I was doing, I slipped one hand beneath the bubbles and found the wet center of my sex. Even in the warm water, I could feel how slippery my pussy was becoming. God, I was getting so close and it was all just from Salt touching and playing with my nipples! I let my fingers drift into my cleft and started to circle the aching button of my clit…
Suddenly Salt seemed to catch on to what I was up to.
“Mishka,” he said, his voice a low, disapproving growl. “What exactly are you doing under the bubbles? Are you touching yourself?”
“Um…” I froze, feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Well…”
“Is not for you to give yourself pleasure,” Salt lectured in that same deep, growling voice. “Is for your Papa only. Take your hand away.”
“All…all right,” I whispered guiltily.
I think in any other context if Salt had caught me touching myself and told me to stop, I would have told him to go fuck himself—after I died of embarrassment, that was. But here and now, playing this particular scenario, it seemed right to give him control of my body and my pleasure to him. I don’t know why…maybe I had finally found that elusive “Little-space” Dr. Lucy had wanted me to work on.
For whatever reason, I pulled my hand out of the water, away from my aching pussy and whispered, “Sorry…Papa.”
I don’t know what made me tack on that “Papa.” I certainly wasn’t thinking of my biological father as I said it. It was more that I was thinking of my partner in a whole new way.
As “Salt” he was just that—my partner, my friend, my equal. But when I relaxed enough to be his mishka and allowed myself to give him the name we had agreed upon before entering the Institute, I found I saw him differently. Here he was an authority figure…a protector, a comforter who would never leave or betray me. He was my big, strong Papa and I was his little mishka and just for that small space of time, I reveled in our new roles.
“Very good, mishka,” Salt murmured in my ear. “And since you seem to think you need attention in this area, maybe it is time for me to wash you there.”
“Yes,” I agreed breathlessly. “Maybe…maybe it is.”
But then, to my intense disappointment, he picked up the washcloth again.
“Salt…uh, Papa,” I said quickly, before he could start. “I don’t think you should use that on me, uh, down there.”
“Why?” he murmured, frowning. “Is also too sensitive?”
“Yes…yes, exactly,” I said, although it wasn’t true. But I wanted to feel his big, warm hands on me—wanted to feel him touching and caressing my pussy the same way he had been stroking my breasts.
Salt, however, seemed to feel we might be going too far.
“Andi,” he said in a low voice. “Consider what we said…that we do not wish to do anything that would hurt us—our relationship—outside of this place.”
“It won’t hurt us,” I promised breathlessly. “Remember the promise we made—that nothing we do will change anything.”
“I cannot help it,” he growled quietly. “Touching you like this will change things. I cannot pet your soft little pussy without wanting to do it again, even when we leave. I am already fighting such thoughts every day, even before we came here.”
“You…you do? You are, I mean?” I asked him breathlessly.
I’d had no idea before the Institute that Salt had any sexual feelings towards me. I mean, I knew he felt extremely protective of me, which was nice. And I had felt his body react when I sat on his lap—but I had told myself it was only that—just a physical reaction. But here he was admitting he’d fantasized about me—probably on more than one occasion. For some reason the idea made me feel even more hot and swollen between my legs. He wants you, whispered a little voice in my head. Your Papa wants you…