Teach Me Dirty

“But I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m not pleasing you… I… I’m just…” I waited for her to gather her thoughts. “I’m not like other girls,” she said, and I remembered the last time she’d said it, and that rush of desire came back with such intensity I nearly came in my pants. “I’m… I’m dirty…”

“And you’re young, Helen. Young and fresh with plenty of time to explore the things you want.”

“I don’t want time… I’ve had plenty of time… I know exactly what I want…”

“And what’s that?” My voice was gravelly and strained. “What is it you want, Helen? What do you want from me?”

Her eyes were wide, and glassy and her breaths was shallow. “I want you to teach me, Mr Roberts... I want you to teach me dirty.”

***

Helen

“I want to know everything… everything you know… I want to try everything you’ve tried… I want you to teach me the things you like, the things that you paint… the things that I paint…”

His eyes were so fierce on mine but they weren’t angry. “Did you enjoy my art room, Helen?”

I nodded. “I loved your art room.” The image of Anna on the workbench flashed behind my eyes.

He looked at my plate. “Are you not hungry?”

I wasn’t hungry. My heart was racing and my tummy was tickling, and I had that lovely fluttery pulse between my legs. All I wanted was him. “Not right now. Sorry, I will be…”

“I’m not hungry right now, either.” He got to his feet and offered me his hand. “Come.”

I put my hand in his and my fingers seemed so small. He led me through to his art room and I was too embarrassed to watch as he cleared the top of the workbench.

“If it makes you uncomfortable being in the same space as Anna was, we can move, but the truth is, Helen, that Anna was my wife, and this was our home, and I had sex with her in pretty much every possible location throughout this place. But that was a long time ago now. And you are a different woman, and this is an entirely new relationship, one that Anna has no bearing on as far as I’m concerned.” He patted the workbench and my stomach flipped. “It’s your choice, Helen, but I’d be very happy if you would sit up here for me.”

I pushed myself up onto the bench, and my legs dangled and the socks on my feet felt so silly. “I don’t mind… being here, I mean…”

“Thank you.” He ran his fingers down my chest through the fabric of his shirt. “I love the way you look in this.” He pinched my nipples and I sucked in my breath. “I love the way I can see you through the shirt.” He kissed my jaw, and his lips were warm, and his hands slipped up my thighs. “You have such sweet breasts, Helen. I don’t think you know how beautiful they are. You’re more than I can resist.”

“Please touch me…” I whispered. “I want to know you… I want you to show me…”

He unbuttoned me but his eyes were on mine. “Have you ever been tied up?”

The memory of Lizzie came back to me and it didn’t feel nice. I didn’t want to think about it but didn’t want to lie. I nodded and he seemed surprised.

“Lizzie,” I explained. “I was drunk and she… she got carried away, messing about.”

“Messing about?”

“Sometimes, when Lizzie gets drunk, she, um… she gets silly… touches me.”

“Touches you where?”

My mouth dried up. “She touches… she touches my tits sometimes. I mean, she’s Lizzie, she’s a bit wild.”

“She tied you up?”

I nodded.

“How?”

“With my school tie, my wrists, to the headboard.”

“I see. And then what?”

I felt the heat of my cheeks. “She, um… she rubbed me. Rubbed herself… on me… she…”

“Elizabeth tied you up and dry-humped your pussy?”

“Something like that…”

“And did you come?”

I closed my eyes. “I didn’t want to…”

“But you did?”

I nodded. “I did.”

“Did you tell her to stop?”

I shrugged. “Yes… No… it was weird…”

“Not that weird, Helen, you either asked her to stop or you didn’t.”

“It’s complicated…”

“We’ll talk about this another time.” He kissed my lips and pushed his tongue inside, and it felt so nice. And then he slipped the shirt from my shoulders and dropped it on the floor. He pushed me backwards, until I was flat to the bench, and he left me there, walked out of sight. “Give me your wrists.”

He was behind me and I tipped my head to see him as I reached out my hands. He placed my wrists together and bound them with rope, tight enough to be secure but not tight enough to hurt. He pulled them up over my head until I was stretched, and I heard the clank of metal as he tied the rope to something.