The Naughty Stuff(24)

She looks surprised and then looks down at the ground guiltily. That’s what I thought.



Isabel

Holy shit. How does he know what I did? No. There’s no way he can know that. Can he?

“How did you…” I start to ask, but he cuts me off.

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

Shit. His voice is commanding and fierce. I shake my head no to his answer.

“I’m going to teach you a little lesson on self-control, Isa.” He says mischievously.

What the hell does that mean? Self-control? I’m afraid to ask.

“Until we get something more inspiring picked out, I want you to remember the safe words are red and yellow. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop because things are too intense or painful. Nod if you understand.”

So he did read the contract. I nod yes, fearful and excited of what comes next. Why is he reminding me of safe words unless he plans on taking this too far? I feel him lift tail of my shirt up and I feel the leather hit my ass and I jump from the sound. The slap is light and sends tingles up my spine, then another and another, across my bottom and down my legs. Yes. I can get used to this. It feels so damned good and naughty. Then I briefly feel fingers inside me. I want more but he stops. When he walks around in front of me, he’s licking the fingers he just had in me. Oh my God. Did he really just do that? I feel my face heat from embarrassment.

“Why are you embarrassed, Isa? You taste outstanding,” he says in a low, seductive voice.

What a naughty boy he is. Then he snaps the flogger on each of my breasts, the stinging sensation almost overwhelming. I close my eyes and try to contain the pain, but Dylan orders me to look at him.

“Look at me, Isa.”

I open my eyes and the vision of Dylan standing in front of me, naked with a huge hard on with my name written all over it is too much for me to take. When he licks his lips it damn near sends me over the edge.

“I want that tongue on me, Sir. Please…” I say whispered.

Dylan narrows his eyes at me and harshly tells me, “I told you not to speak unless given permission.”

He moves behind me and I feel the hard sharp snap of leather on my ass. It hurts enough to make me scream out loud. I can’t believe he just did that. I can’t believe that I’m actually turned on.

I’m still trying to talk myself out of screaming out yellow to him when he walks back in front of me, drops the flogger and starts to finger me. Yes. Thank you.

“Now you’re going to learn about self-control. I’m going to push you to the edge of an orgasm, but I want you to hold it. I don’t want you to come until I tell you to; until I give you permission. Nod if you understand,” he tells me sweetly.

He doesn’t want me to come? How am I supposed to control something like that? I can’t do that. Not the way he makes me feel and the things he does to my body. I can’t.

He suddenly lifts my face to meet him.

“Nod that you understand,” he insists that I nod in agreement, though I’m not really sure if I’ll be able to comply with his cruel demand.



Dylan

She looks confused and almost hurt at my demand, but I want her to learn to control herself and her sexual desires. I cup her chin and kiss her, trying to reassure her that she can do this.

Then I start to work her body, fingering her slowly, then fast, feeling the rigidness of her sweet spot swell to my touch. Then I begin nipping and biting her jaw line, mouth, breasts and her belly. She starts to thrash as I can feel her getting close to orgasm. Her pussy tightens and her G-spot feels full and heavy like it needs to be released, but I warn her of the consequences if she does.

“If you come without permission, Isa, you won’t be able to sit down for a week. Do you understand?”

She whimpers and whines as I kneel in front of her and start licking her delicious pussy and nibbling and pulling at her clit, and for a moment I think she’s going to break, but she doesn’t.

“Oh God, Dylan. Please… I want to come. Please… may I, Sir?” she cries out.

I almost give in to the sound of her begging so politely, but I resist.

“You can hold it, sweetheart. Just a little longer. Don’t come, Isa,” I reassure her.

She looks so fucking beautiful right now. Her eyes are closed tightly and her head is thrashing forward and back.

“I don’t want you playing with yourself without my permission. Do you understand, Isa?” I ask her harshly.

When she opens her eyes, they’re the color of wildfire. She hesitates but I tug at her harder and her answer comes spilling out of her perfect mouth.

“Yes, I understand.” She says near tears.

“You understand what?” I want to hear her say it again.