writingdirty:

A Delicate Instruction

In her correspondences, she addressed me as Mister Baker, and I referred to her simply as Catherine. She was frank and forward and listed her proclivities and predilections concisely.

“Ageplay, medical play, biting, bloodplay (my number one fetish,) breathplay and the occasional rape fantasy,” she laid out as if it were a shopping list or inventory of hobbies.

I was faux formal with her, and we slipped into a sort of student/teacher banter right away.

She’d read stories and articles on kink. She’d watched movies that titillated and aroused her curiosities. She’d been emboldened by classes on sexuality and by blog posts about empowerment, and she so charged into Babeland and even Purple Passion to procure vibrators, nipple clamps, rope and even a crop. Sadly she didn’t at the moment have anyone to tie her up or hit her.

She explained that in her room she had marveled at the pink and red marks the crop made when she awkwardly hit herself with it. She even paged through a book she’d bought on bondage and tried to tie her legs together in hopes of one day imparting this knowledge on an eager lover.

She’d contacted me for help. Some “delicate instruction” as she put it. She was young, fresh as cream, overeducated, underdressed, bright-eyed, and bursting with energy.

She wrote that she enjoyed my stories. She wrote that some of them had even inspired her purchases. She ran off a list of her half a dozen dildos, and assorted eccentrically named sex tools.

I asked if she was sure she knew how to use them correctly. In writing, she was bold and confident, though I imagined a much more shy and demure attitude in person. She assured me she knew how each one worked and had even made herself squirt with one.

I playfully chided, though my intent was indeed seduction. “One can never be sure, in the exuberance of youth, that you are not missing some vital detail in the use of these toys. Though you certainly seem precocious and curious to a fault, my conscious will never be clear unless I examine, in detail, your ministrations with each and every one of these tools.”

“Oh? I had never thought of that. I wouldn’t want to make a mistake in this area. I would appreciate any guidance you could offer, Mr. Baker.”

A week later she arrived for her lesson at noon.

She brought a large bag of toys, things she had bought over the last year as her curiosities pushed her in various directions. The problem was most of it was all still theoretical.

She wore a simple, if expensive, summer dress. From her online writings, it was plain that she came from a very well to do family, with which she still lived. I welcomed her into my apartment and tried to ease her nervousness.

Her anxiety was no match for her eagerness, and soon we were in my bedroom, and I was unwrapping her from her dress like a present.

Under the silk was expensive lingerie. It seemed like something for someone far older than her, and the effect made her look even more innocent and thus made me feel more like a letch.

“Lay out all of your toys on the bed in a row. Then we can see if you’ve been using them correctly,” I said, trying to be the cool dominating instructor.

The role felt a bit more natural than usual, and she bit her lip and looked down demurely and then got to work following instruction.

“Um, Mr. Baker, would you mind if we started with the crop?” she said, standing at attention next to my bed.

“I’ve never really used it at all so you’ll have to show me,” she said, fluttering her eyebrows.

Though over a decade younger than I was she was considerably taller.

“That sounds like a fine idea. Why don’t you take it and get on your hands and knees on the bed?” I asked, picking up the smallish riding crop and putting it in her mouth.

Her body perked up at this, and she climbed onto the bed, crop in her mouth like a dog carrying a bone, and proudly posed on her hands and knees, ass slightly raised, and head held high.

Desire was almost overpowering. I had to slow my heart. I had to temper my lust.

I walked around the bed and inspected her. Bright blue eyes, dirty blond hair in an expensive mess. Small breasts, just visible as her bra was pushed and tilted in her position and moved just enough to expose the tips of her somewhat puffy nipples.

Around back I swooned at her long smooth pale legs. I pulled the back of her panties up so that folded into an almost g-string size, exposing nearly all of her ass. Then I walked around and tried to take the crop. She bit on it, and her playful eyes sparkled as I tugged. I couldn’t help but laugh as she made little puppy noises.

I reached back and took her hair in my hand and made a fist in it. She yelped a little and pleasure coursed over her face. She let go of the crop, and I took it.

I tested the crop, which was a bit more dainty than mine. I swung it fast, and she gasped a little. I tested it on my hand, and it gave a respectable smack. She jumped at the sound.

“Now, a warm-up is advisable for any impact play,” I explained, lightly tapping her bottom with the crop.

Her butt wiggled, and she looked back at me biting her lip.

“Head forward, please,” I chided as I gave her one decent hit.

The small leather head left an immediate red mark on her pristine buttock. I watched it redded as I hit her again in the same spot and her back arched. I saw the tight crotch of her panties, and I was overcome with the urge to pull the patch aside and see her naked pussy. The need was so intense my hands tightened around the crop, and my knuckles went white.

I hit her a few more times, and she winced at each one, then purred afterward. Soon her bottom was bright red, and there were some little squares of red on her thighs as well.

“I think that’s all for now for the crop,” I said, laying it neatly next to the other toys.

I picked up a vibrator, examined it, placed it next to her as she watched me on all fours.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and show me how you use this one,” I told her.

Her eyes were wide as she considered it.

“Well, I usually read something or watch something when I use this,” she said, sitting down on my bed, propping her back up with pillows.

I looked around and found my Kindle and handed it to her.

She turned it on and flipped through. I saw that she opened one of my books and she leaned back, spread her legs and propping the Kindle on her breasts started to read. She held the reader with one hand and held the still silent vibrator in the other.

As she read she pressed the still vibrator against her thigh, then she slid it over the crotch of her purple panties. In a minute she sighed, and the vibrator came to life.

I watched, hypnotized by her hips and they started to rock. Then I coughed. She looked up at me.

“Well, initially, I’d have to say you don’t see to be using this one correctly at all,” I said with a serious frown.

“Oh?” she whispered, the vibrator still buzzing.

“Indeed. I’ve had a lot of experience with this model, and it works much better without a layer of fabric between it and your genitals,” I said patiently, while inside I wanted to rip her panties off with my teeth.

She seemed to have a little trepidation, but after a moment she put down the book and her buzzing toy and pulled off her panties. She sat with her legs closed for a moment. Then she parted them slowly exposing a pink slit covered in a triangle of short dirty blond hair.

I’d never seen it before. Our correspondence didn’t include the photographic flirting that sometimes took place with these kinds of dalliances.

I wanted nothing more than to push the toys off the bed and bury my face between her thighs. The need was so intense I was silent as she continued reading and sighed deeply as the toy, now unblocked, rubbed against the pink wetness of her sex.

“Hm, your form seems fair, but you could use some help. Perhaps I could show you how rope can make this all more interesting?” I asked, still trying to maintain my cool even though my body was now awake and so hungry for her it was hard to move normally.

She looked into my eyes and pouted a little, then nodded eagerly.

The game was faltering. I wasn’t going to be able to sit idly by and watch her masturbate. It was too much for me. The want was becoming unmanageable.

I took the red rope she’d brought and unwound it. It was new, still slightly stiff. She got up on her knees and put the Kindle on my nightstand. She turned off the vibrator and waited.

I took off my books and kneeled on the bed next to her.

“Would you mind taking this off?” I said, brushing my fingers over the frills on her bra.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” she said biting her lip again.

I smiled.

“Take off your bra, so I can tie you up,” I growled into her ear.

“Okay, Mr. Baker,” she whispered and took off her bra quickly.

Her breasts were small, hardly there, but with large puffy nipples. I wanted to cup them, but kept myself on track.

I tied her quickly, the red rope looking lurid against her pale skin. I tied one of her arms behind her back and then a somewhat intricate chest harness. The rope outlined her breasts, making them stick out as much as they could.

I tied her other arm to the front of her torso and secured her hand just above her crotch. Then I pulled and pushed her around, letting her understand how immobile she now was. I laid her down and got some of my own rope out of a drawer.

I bound her ankles separately and brought the rope from each to metal hooks I had on the wall just above the bed. A few pulls and her legs were in the air, wide open.

Her mouth was slightly slack. Her eyes were glossed over. She was one of those people who took to rope from the start. She was in bottom space, and as she squirmed and tested the knots, she started breathing heavily.

I put the vibrator back in her hand, which was bound so that she could only hold it right to her clit. I turned it on, and she whimpered.

“Now, show me how you make yourself come,” I said into her ear.

Her young, coltish body stretched and struggled against the rope as she let the vibrator press against her.

“I, um, usually need something inside to come,” she said now slightly embarrassed.

I looked over to her toys.

“Well, we could use something you bought, or I could use my fingers,” I said slipping my hand onto her belly, then up to grab the rope on her chest.

“What do you want to use?” she whispered, the buzzing echoing through the room.

“I’m going to use my fingers on you, Catherine,” I said circling one of her nipples as I did.

I pinched her nipple and her hips bucked. I smiled and watched her reaction as I pinched both of her nipples and then slapped her breasts a few times.

When I reached down between her legs, I was shocked at how wet she was. Her thighs were wet, and there was a small dark circle on the sheets under her.

One finger slipped easily into her, but she was remarkably tight.  I let my finger acclimate to the geography of her body. I found the curve of her. I pressed up against her g-spot, and she tensed.

“Oh my god,” she squeaked, her voice getting higher.

I pushed a second finger in and held her down with my other hand as she bucked. I moved my hand up her body as I slowly fucked her with two fingers. I ran my other hand all the way up until my fingers closed around her throat.

Her eyes locked with me as my hand closed around her neck.

“You’re going to be a good girl and tell me when you come, won’t you?” I asked as I closed my hand further.

She nodded quickly, her hips bucking, her bright face red.

“Coming, sir, I’m, oh fuck, I’m coming for you, sir,” she said, the words pouring out as I let go of her throat and the muscles of her little cunt squeezed my fingers, and she came and came, soaking my sheets.

She let go of the vibrator, and it fell to the bed. I picked it up and shut it off and smiled down at her.

“That was fast,” she said with a silly grin.

“You made a bit of a mess,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh, yes? Sorry Mr. Baker,” she said blushing, but still smiling.

“You make a lovely mess,” I said reaching for the rope.

“Um, could you not untie me yet?” she asked sweetly.

I looked to the other end of the bed.

“Well, we do have a lot of other toys to try out,” I said with a raised eyebrow.

I licked my fingers clean, watching her squirm some more.

“But I really should clean you up first,” I said, leaning down and licking her inner thigh.

“Yes Mr. Baker,” she said with a whimper.

And the lesson went on.