We walk through a barrage of grins and whispers and I flush furious scarlet, imagining everyone watching my backside as I pass, knowing what’s in store for it.
I shudder slightly on the stairs, tensing my sphincter muscles in readiness.
‘You’ve done it before, I presume?’
‘Oh yeah. Of course.’
The fact that it’s no big deal for him is both comforting and alienating.
‘I mean, you really have done it? Not like when you told Mal and O you’d had a ton of submissives?’
‘I don’t lie to you, Rosie. With other people, I am acting. With you, I am myself.’
‘That’s … Oh, that’s really nice. That’s so sweet.’
‘What about you? You are yourself with me?’
We are at the schoolroom door now, ready to enter.
‘Never more so,’ I say, meaning it.
‘Good.’
The schoolroom is cold, but Dimitri has a solution for that involving lips and tongues and wandering hands. When the hands wander under my skirt and find my lace-covered bottom, I shiver and tense.
He breaks off, resting his forehead on mine. ‘This really is scary for you? Why?’
‘I think it will hurt.’
‘I use lube. Lots of it.’
‘All the same, I don’t see how something that size can ever fit.’
‘You are not made of wood, malyshka. You stretch. Like a rubber.’
My entire body convulses with dread.
‘To talk will not help,’ he decides. He peers ar
ound the room. ‘I wish I book the boudoir. This room not so comfortable for anal sex.’
Do you need special furniture then? He drags out a padded bench, like something from a school gymnasium, and removes one of the wooden blocks, lowering its height. ‘This may be OK,’ he says, stroking his chin. ‘You take off your dress and lie down.’
I stare at the makeshift bed.
‘Lie down, Rosichka,’ he says, unbendingly.
‘The thing is,’ I pipe, half turning, voice shaking. ‘You wouldn’t do this with a client, would you? So should you be …?’
‘I do this with clients but I use plugs. Only difference, with you I use my cock. But if you like, I can use a plug instead.’
‘No.’ I surprise myself with the speed and conviction of my reply. ‘Don’t use plugs. I want you. If I’m going to do this, I want it to be with you. Not some object.’
‘OK. So then …’ He flaps his hands, as if to ask why I’m still clothed.
I set about pulling my dress over my head while he inspects the contents of the front desk. He finds what he is looking for – a bottle of lubricant – and pops it in his shirt pocket. Then he is behind me, his hands over my upper arms, his lips on my neck.
‘You are my brave Rosichka,’ he says. His hands scoop up my breasts in their flimsy bra, kneading them gently. The tingle transfers, slowly but inexorably, from my nipples to my clit. I push my bottom back into his crotch, feeling it harden. ‘You give me your ass, I will treat it well, hmm. You trust me?’