I remembered. How could I forget, when I was sitting helpless like this in front of
him?
"Start now," he said. "Squeeze. Pulse the inner muscles you use when you grip me so
tight." He smiled, his voice husky, as he unzipped and pulled himself out again, once again just
as hard as he'd been before. That was the power I had over him, and I thrilled.
It took me a moment, but I found the movement that controlled them, that innocent
little twitch that did so much. I was shocked at the shiver of pleasure that went through me. It
wasn't the same as being touched, not even close, but I began to understand how this might be
possible.
He stroked himself, watching me, as I bit my lip and started to instinctively rock
against the hard wood of the chair.
"Stop," he murmured. "No. Stay still."
You don't understand! I wanted to scream at him, but I knew. I knew he was doing this,
not just to get drunk off of the power he held over me, but to pleasure me. To bring me
another level of ecstasy I'd never known possible, brought on only by his command.
He did understand. And this was exactly what he wanted for me.
I pulsed, just like he'd told me, and the fire rose. I could feel my body begin to stiffen,
ready for the inevitable.
"Tell me," he demanded in a whisper, his hand quickening. "What do you feel?"
"It feels..." I had to stop, gather my thoughts, clear my throat. "Good," I said, finally. "It
feels good. It's...building."
"Good," he said. He was inches from my face, and my mouth watered to taste him
again, but I was too focused on other things to give him the attention he deserved.