“Okay… swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that.”
I flush, and my inner goddess smacks her lips together glowing with pride.
“So.” He looks down at me grinning. “Swallowing semen okay?”
I nod, not able to look him in the eye, and drain my cup again.
“More?” he asks.
“More.” And I’m suddenly reminded of our conversation earlier today as he refills my cup. Is he referring to that or just the champagne? Is this whole champagne thing more?
“Sex toys?” he asks.
I shrug, glancing down the list.
Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
• Vibrators
• Dildos
• Butt Plugs
• Other
“Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the tin?” I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
“Yes,” he smiles. “And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training.”
“Oh… what’s in other?”
“Beads, eggs… that sort of stuff.”
“Eggs?” I’m alarmed.
“Not real eggs,” he laughs loudly, shaking his head.
I purse my lips at him.
“I’m glad you find me funny.” I can’t keep my injured feelings out of my voice.
He stops laughing.
“I apologize. Miss Steele, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to look contrite, but his eyes are still dancing with humor. “Any problem with toys?”
“No,” I snap.
“Anastasia,” he cajoles. “I am sorry. Believe me. I don’t mean to laugh. I’ve never had this conversation in so much detail. You’re just so inexperienced. I’m sorry.” His eyes are big and gray and sincere.
I thaw a little and take another sip of champagne.
“Right – bondage,” he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream.
Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?
• Hands in front • Hands behind back
• Ankles • Knees
• Elbows
• Wrists to ankles
• Spreader bars
• Tied to furniture
• Blindfolding
• Gagging
• Bondage with Rope
• Bondage with Tape
• Bondage with leather cuffs
• Suspension
• Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints
“We’ve talked about suspension. And it’s fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway.
Anything else?”
“Don’t laugh at me, but what’s a spreader bar?”
“I promise not to laugh. I’ve apologized twice.” He glares at me. “Don’t make me do it again,” he warns. And I think I visibly shrink... oh, he’s so bossy. “A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They’re fun.”
“Okay… Well gagging me. I’d be worried I wouldn’t be able to breathe”
“
