I stood there, bottom up, lips spread, breasts dangling, imagining Joss behind me with a wooden paddle or a riding crop. He would put a hand on my spine …
I nearly fell over. He did put a hand on my spine.
‘Just a little bit lower,’ he murmured.
I lost my footing then, and fell forwards, gasping, ‘Oh, shit.’
‘Lucy!’
‘Fuck. Sorry. I thought you were going to hit me.’
I was a bundle of splayed limbs on the floor. He looked at me, pensive, arms folded.
‘You know that’s going to happen, soon enough, don’t you?’ he said, with an expression of pained disappointment.
‘I’m nervous,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I like being hurt.’
‘You like the idea of it.’
I couldn’t answer him for a moment. He was too close to the truth.
‘Yeah,’ I admitted finally.
‘You want to try it,’ he persisted. ‘You’ve always wanted to try it.’
I looked away.
‘Be honest with me,’ he insisted. ‘I’m being honest with you. Come on.’
‘OK, yes.’ I hated to concede it, but I could hardly bang on about trust and then lie about this stuff.
‘Don’t deny it,’ he said. ‘Don’t repress yourself. Open up to it. Enjoy it. It’s who you are.’
How dare he tell me who I was? I bristled, then calmed myself down. It was a pep talk, that was all.
‘So, that was four,’ he said, clapping his hands together again. ‘Five is, confusingly, Fours. Let’s see you.’
Well, this had to be all fours, didn’t it? I felt creepily like the cover model on a top-shelf mag, dropping on to hands and knees with Joss lurking somewhere at my rear. I thought I’d be told to spread my legs again, but I wasn’t.
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘But lift your head for this one. Look straight ahead of you. Keep your elbows locked.’
I was comfortable in this position and I was even starting to forget that I was naked – or at least to move it further back in my mind, until the next order was given.
‘Six is a slight variation on five,’ he said. ‘And it has the descriptive title of Arse. You put your forehead to the floor and raise your bottom as high as you can.’
Now I felt truly porny and seedy. Any minute he’d be asking me to give a cheesy little grin over my shoulder for the camera. I felt dirty and used and utterly turned on.
‘You need to spread for this one,’ he said. ‘Keep your palms flat on the floor.’
Nothing would be left to the imagination in this position. Holding it, I realised for the first time that these positions weren’t just designed to display a submissive. They had practical applications. Bend, for instance, was for a spanking. This one must be for … God, why was I so wet? He had to be able to see it. He had to know that, hidden as my face was, my mind was full of images of being penetrated by him. Of his cock squeezing into my tight passage, filling it, giving me his full length and girth. Or of even dirtier scenes, of him delving between my parted arse cheeks and putting things up there. I clenched my sphincter. I’d never done anything like that, but I’d thought about it often, and Joss was always the man in the mental picture. Damn him. Why did he do this to me?
‘You know, I think this is my favourite,’ he said. ‘Yes, I think it is. Seems a shame to break it but …’ He sighed. His imaginary finger coated my darkest crevice with lube. My imaginary hips quivered. The tingle and gush between my thighs, though – I wasn’t imagining that.
‘All right.’ Heavy regret. ‘Seven. This is called Wait. You kneel up, right up, breasts right out, hands behind your back. Like Kneel, but with this one you spread your knees nice and wide and your chin is up. Look straight ahead. No eye contact with anybody in the room though. That’s strictly forbidden.’
This was an easy enough one, though I still wished my glistening pussy was concealed from view. I tried to imagine that I was wearing a leotard and doing gymnastics but it didn’t quite work.