The Burlington Manor Affair

“Is that the appeal?” His tone was curious. “Of giving over the control to me?”

Had she said too much? Given him even more power over her? “I suppose it is,” she said, trying to reel it back in, to make it an objective discussion rather than a confession about how he made her feel. “Allowing the man to take charge is a sacrifice of self, but it comes with certain rewards.”

That was a vast understatement. Carmen had never experienced anything similar to what she felt when he took total charge of her during sex.

There was silence at the other end of the phone, but she could sense him assessing her, perhaps even planning his next move. She turned away from the mirror and grasped the brass bedpost on the footboard of her bed, worrying at it as she waited for him to say something.

“Are you close to your bed?”

“Yes.”

“Put the phone down, get naked.”

She pressed her eyes closed a moment, wishing she could deny him and hang up. It was a simple enough command, but the implication was that there was more to come. That left her body throbbing with longing, unwilling to be denied whatever pleasure he might give her. Silently she did as instructed, setting the phone down on her bedside cupboard before lifting the slip of fabric she wore, taking it up and over her head, and tossing it aside.

Before she picked up the phone, she sat down on the edge of the bed. From the corner of her eye she saw herself there in the mirror. “I’ve undressed.”

“Do you have a vibrator?”

“Rex, please, stop winding me up.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Come now, you’re an aroused woman and I think that’s due to the nature of the discussion we’ve had. Do you agree?”

She said nothing, so he continued.

“I wouldn’t be a real man if I left you that way. I’d like to bring that situation to some satisfactory conclusion. And as I’m not allowed to see you during the week, I’ll have to help you with it in some other way.” He paused deliberately. His tone had changed. That commanding tone was back, the intimacy of his earlier questioning given over to a more direct approach.

Helpless to do anything else, Carmen lay back on her bed.

“So we’ve established that you own some sort of sex toy. Is it close at hand?”

She swallowed down her embarrassment and distracted herself by imagining him standing there by the side of the bed looking at her the way he did. It was so much easier to submit to him when she could look at him in all his gorgeousness. But still she found she wanted to submit, to please him. “It’s called a Silver Dream Machine and it’s in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet.”

“Silver Dream Machine, huh?” He laughed softly. “Does it do the job?”

“It’s...satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory?” There was humor in his tone. “Somehow that doesn’t sound good enough.”

If he was fishing for compliments he was going to have a long wait. His ego didn’t need flattering. He had her flat on her back and naked through the sheer power of his voice and his suggestions. Instead, she rolled on her side and opened the drawer with her free hand, reaching for the vibrator.

“The vibrator is now on the bed.”

“Touch yourself with your fingers and tell me how wet you are.”

Carmen writhed, but her hand moved automatically to answer his request. Tentatively she stroked her fingers over her folds. It was torment. “I’m wet. You made me wet.”

“Put your fingers inside.”

She did as instructed and her sex quivered.

“Tell me how wet you are...wet enough to take something hard?”

“Rex...please,” she murmured as her fingers thrust inside. Then lust unleashed her tongue. “Oh! I’m so wet, the sound of your voice...it does bad things to me.” Shoving her fingers in and out, she burned up, embarrassed and aroused in equal doses. Her core clenched, aching for him to be there.

“Good. That pleases me immensely. Stroke yourself. Imagine it’s my tongue on you. It’ll be there as soon as I get you alone next weekend.”

Remembering how good that was, she panted aloud to relieve some of the tension she felt. Her hand was shaking as her fingers moved, but her flesh was throbbing with longing for him, roused to distraction by his intimacy and his commanding tone.