Hello to Wipsters – Time for a work in progress and it’s working its way through the editing process at the moment. With a working title of Playing Safe, I present to you Jeremy, a dentist and dominant and Megan, who has already been on the receiving of his spanking hand and is now contemplating where they go next. They’re out on a date and she’s questioning his boundaries.
“Would that bother you? If I screwed up and showed you sass?” I start to regain my appetite and peck at my food with a fork.
“Probably.” He dips a chip into his tomato sauce, swirling it around on his plate, leaving a crimson pattern.
My shoulders sag. This isn’t going to work. I’m the wrong type for him. I will annoy him and give him attitude. I can’t stop myself sometimes.
He clears his throat and dunks another chip in the ketchup. “However, if you’re naughty, and I’m expecting it, that would be different.”
Expecting it? “I don’t understand.”
“Spanking turns you on. It is an erotic need, not one based on the need for real punishments. So, if you like, we could try to keep it sexual in nature.”
“How?” My curiosity is ramping up, because I like what he’s saying. Perhaps we could be good for each other. I’m flitting back and forth between mental states – sucked into his words, they’re shaping my thinking, but I’m trying to stay cautious, realistic. A good dom doesn’t just land on your plate with an all you can eat tag.
“I give you a task. Something impossible for you to achieve. I’ll know it. You’ll know it, but with it comes the expectation that naughty Meg will have her butt spanked if she fails.”
My pussy clenches tight, an immediate, spontaneous reaction to his scenario building. “You’re okay with this, Mister control freak?”
“Yes, because I still control the task and the outcome.”
I’m back up again, buzzing with excitement at his idea. “Where will this take us?”
He puts down his fork and reaches over to my hand, drawing it across the table, trapping it between his own. He squeezes my clammy palm.
“You’re nervous. Wet too, I should think.” He hasn’t answered my question.
Hot blood rushes to my face. I am dripping below and the imagery developing in my mind is the trigger for my lust. I picture the dental chair, me bent over it, him…
I snatch a breath. “Yes.”
“Tell me,” he orders and I can’t resist the tone of his voice. I lean forward and whisper, a few sentences and as slide back in my seat, he catches my lips, brushing them with his own, but it isn’t a kiss, more of a caress. “I would like that, too. It would mean you have to give your consent, we’re going beyond a spanking and we must play safe.”
“I give my consent. When you call me into that room of yours, when we’re alone, I consent to be yours until you release me.” I barely believe I’ve utter those words. I’ve given him my body, my sensual being.
He lifts the back of my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Thank you.”