He pulls his chair around behind me and sits down, and then eases my underwear aside, spreading me open, his fingers firm but gentle. What is he seeing, what does he think? I want to see the look on his face and I try to move, but the ropes pull against my arms. I’m still tied securely. I’m not supposed to move now, and I relax a little against the desk again.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, and then he licks long strokes on my most sensitive parts, languid and unhurried. I groan, and tuck my face against the desk. His tongue is firm, and a little rough, and so strange that I want to squirm away and push against it at the same time.
He traces slow circles on my clit with his tongue and I cry out with each breath. My mind is so clear and my body so relaxed. If this is his reward, then I’m in danger of making mistakes all the time.
He concentrates his attention right where it feels the best and I sob, pressing myself against the desk as I come. Hot waves of sensation pound through me.
A few minutes later I’m distantly aware that he’s untying me, and then pulling me back off the desk and onto his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into his throat, my heart racing. He’s whispering to me, things like good girl and you’re so brave, and wiping the drying tears from my face and the sweat from my brow.
My mind is trying to catch up with what’s just happened. Mr. Kingsolver disciplining me, and then Mr. Kingsolver giving me the first proper experience I’ve had with a man. I’ve touched myself before and been kissed at parties, but nothing has ever felt as wonderful as what he just did to me. It’s not just the orgasm, either. Why is it, I wonder, that being at his mercy and suffering such a painful, humiliating experience should be so enjoyable? I can’t find a reason, but I do know that I don’t want him to stop. That thing he did with his tongue makes me want to rip the buttons off his shirt.
He looks down at my underwear and runs a finger under the elastic. “These,” he says, mock stern, “are very silly.”
I giggle. “Do you like them?”
He presses his forehead against mine. “You have no idea.” He watches me for a moment. “Are you a virgin, babygirl?”
I suck my lip over my bottom teeth and nod, watching his face as he considers this. He must think I’m hopelessly naive and childish not to have had sex before.
“I thought you might be. Good to know. Now, what has upset you these last few days?”
I tell him, my finger hooked over the top button of his shirt, rubbing his chest hair. I tell him about my parents selling the house and moving far away, about not knowing what I can afford and where I should live, and how much the idea of sharing with strangers makes me afraid. He listens without interrupting.
When I’m finished, he says, “No wonder you were upset. Why didn’t you tell me?”
It’s a little easier, now, after what we just did, to tell him how I feel, but even so I’m not able to meet his eyes as I say, “You’ve got so much else to worry about, running this place. I didn’t want to worry you with it.”
He puts a finger under my chin and tilts it up so he can look in my eyes. “That’s my job. I like to worry about things. How am I supposed to take your worries away from you if you won’t tell me what they are?”
“You really want to do that? Anything I’m worried about? Anything at all?”
He strokes my cheek and his fingers are gentle. “How do you feel when you know you’ve done something that pleases me?”
I smile, sinking into him. “Like nothing else. Like nothing can touch me. Like there isn’t anything I can’t do.”
“That’s how I feel when I know you’re taken care of, kitten.”
I put my head down on his chest, thinking. He seems sincere, and while he’s demanding and quite ferocious, he doesn’t frighten me anymore. On the contrary, he’s made me feel calmer than I have in a long time, despite my burning behind. It’s so strange, what we’re doing, but I hope that it won’t stop.
“What are you going to do on your day off?” he asks.
I tell him my plan, blushing, wondering if he’s going to think it’s silly and too little-girly, but he just smiles.
“That sounds like an excellent idea. You’ve been working so hard.”
“I did lie to my parents, though,” I confess. “I told them I was going to the high street to look at rental properties.”
He frowns. “Why did you lie to them?”
“Because they’re becoming so frustrated with me, and I wanted to make them happy.”
“Do you think they’ll be happy when they figure out you lied to them? They will figure it out, you know.”
“No, they won’t be happy.”
“I won’t be happy, either. I don’t want you to lie.”
I screw up my face. “I’m going to have to go to the high street, aren’t I?”