Beyond the Boundaries (Closed for dr_mabeuse )

[DeliciousMaiden]

Gratefully, I slid my key into the lock and practically fell through the door with exhaustion.
Why was it that Friday evenings in London were always hell?
Why couldn’t people just go home and collapse like me?
Why did they have to clutter up the bars, the tube, the trains?
Why did they have to make my journey home hell?

Closing the door I picked up my post and shoved the remaining items under the door of the downstairs apartment.
Josh wasn’t home yet.
He must be joining the throngs set on an early celebration of the weekend.
As for me… it took me all my strength to stagger up the stairs to my own front door and unlock that.

Pausing to put on the kettle, I moved along the landing and then upstairs to my “office” and ditched my bag.
I could look at the papers tomorrow … sometime…
Shedding the jacket, white blouse and then skirt as I walked through my bedroom, I threw them over my chair and pulled out a pair of jogging pants and a tshirt and after disguarding shoes and stockings pulled them on.
I’d sort the laundry tomorrow, I promised myself as I walked back downstairs to the kitchen to make the tea.

This was my idea of a Friday evening.
Tea and relaxation!
I laughed at myself.
At the grand old age of 26 I wasn't in the peak of my "wild phase" that was for sure!
I made my way down the hall and ignoring the lounge went into the room, my room, the room I had designed as my “personal space”.
Flopping down on the beanbags, I pulled out the laptop and flicked it on.

I was very lucky to have found this place.
Josh owned the bottom floor and my appartment took ove the the top two.
It was spacious, especially for one.
In London where housing prices were at a premium, I had bought the right type of property at the right time, before the “price boom”!
The second floor, or rather, my first floor comprised of kitchen, cloakroom, bathroom, lounge and what was a guest room, but was now tailored to my needs.
Upstairs was the bedroom, study and guest room.
More than enough space to live comfortably!

I clicked on the dial up and then the email icon.
Checking the clock, I calculated that as he was 8 hours behind, it was unlikely I would find him in any of the chat rooms, but hopefully there would be email waiting.
I sighed impatiently as the machine seemed to take an age to go through the logging on process.
I let my eyes wander round the colourful room, smiling at the array of pastel shades, the clutter of mementos, posters, books … until the
“You have email”
sounded and I stretched out on the cushions with a tremor of anticipation.

I hadn’t been speaking to him for a long time.
Three weeks I calculated.
But in that time it was as if we … connected … somehow …
As much as anyone could online.
I wasn't stupid. I knew it was hardly reality ...
But still there was something about this guy ...
Something that seemed ... felt ... very real.

We’d met "by accident" when I was lurking around a number of previously unexplored chat rooms.
It had been all very casual, but his questions had intrigued me.
Not for him the a/s/l demands that were commonplace.
Neither had he asked me for a detailed description or demanded a pic after only a couple of lines.
Instead he had asked about my interests ... asked me to describe my character ... what I considered my strengths ... whether I felt happy ...
and so it had progressed ...
We'd talked about a wide range of things … and somehow I felt myself opening up ... thinking about things that seemed irrelevant to this "online" fourm, but he had seemed interested ...

And he interested me.
It was strange, but talking to him made me think, even challenged the way I thought about some of the things we discussed.
And I found myself coming back time and again … purposely looking for him … until over this past week, we had exchanged emails daily … morning and evening … and usually managed to IM daily, no matter how brief the chat was...

Clicking the icon, I read the message line:

Date: 27/05/2003

Address: EmmaC@telenet.com

Re: Morning/Evening …

I settled down to read…

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Peter Steranko

Dearest Emma,

I'm sorry for my lack of communication these past few weeks, but real life does make its demands. In any case it was not entirely wasted. I used the time to consider what you'd asked and to try and formulate an answer that I hope is both honest and understandable to you.

First let me assure you that I am not a sadist, not a bully, and not psychopathic. But I trust that you already know this; or at least I hope you do. *L* Your confusion is entirely understandable, though. We get a lot of bad press, and it is difficult to convince people that we're not just whip-carrying weirdo's in leather harnesses. Well, at least I'm not.

For me the D/s relationship is much more subtle and yet more profound than most people would think. Yes, I do use ropes, and yes, I have used a whip, and floggers, nipple clamps, and other tools of the craft, but their purpose is to enhance rather than to injure. Their use is largely symbolic, as is most of what is done in D/s. Of course, different people have different ideas and different styles. I am talking here only of my experience, of what it all means to me, and to me, the infliction of pain or discomfort is not the point at all.

I see the essence of D/s as a ritualized expression of sexual desire, love, and intimacy. (I hope you're not rolling your eyes, Emma, because I'm serious, as trite as that may sound.) In its most primal form, the act of sexual love involves the male's conquest and possession of the female, at least for a time. We of course are no longer beings ruled by our primal nature, but I believe there is a potent residue of these feelings in all of us.

In any case, how it works is not as important as the fact that it does work. Ot works unimaginably well. The emotions that are released by being bound, by being subjected to another's will, by giving over your autonomy, are beyond imagining.

Of course, I only know this from the other end, from the Dominant point of view. But even there the experience is sufficient to make ordinary sex seem bland and uninteresting.

But better than telling you, my dear, why don't we try an experiment, whenever you're ready, of course. We can do it right here on line. All I need is your co-operation.

As I say, whenever you feel ready to try this, maybe I can give you an idea of what it feels like to be possessed by another, to be the object and source of all his pleasure.

When you're ready, just let me know.

--Peter

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Emma Collins

Peter Steranko

I clicked open the email and read, my eyes moving slowly over the text as I took in his words…

Dearest Emma,

I smiled. Everything about him had seemed so … gentle… kind.. considerate … I hadn’t understood how a man with that type of nature could hold the views and ideas he had begun to touch on during our last chat.


… I used the time to consider what you'd asked and to try and formulate an answer that I hope is both honest and understandable to you.

I read on.. smiling at the idea of him as a “weirdo in a leather harness”.
He had not come across like that at all.. and yet …

”Ohhh good Lord…”

I whisper as I read the words;
Yes, I do use ropes, and yes, I have used a whip, and floggers, nipple clamps, and other tools of the craft, but their purpose is to enhance rather than to injure. Their use is largely symbolic, as is most of what is done in D/s…

Part of me feels revulsion at such an idea and yet part of me is strangely fascinated… I re-read. ”… tools of the craft..?”
I’m really no clearer yet.

I see the essence of D/s as a ritualized expression of sexual desire, love, and intimacy. (I hope you're not rolling your eyes, Emma, because I'm serious, as trite as that may sound.)

I blush. How was it he could often almost predict my reaction!?

In its most primal form, the act of sexual love involves the male's conquest and possession of the female, at least for a time. We of course are no longer beings ruled by our primal nature, but I believe there is a potent residue of these feelings in all of us.

Again I read and re-read. Ummm… conquest … possession…. something primal…although I didn’t understand the need for props, ritual… I understood what he meant here …

”The emotions that are released by being bound, by being subjected to another's will, by giving over your autonomy, are beyond imagining.

I pause.
The image of being bound, totally controlled pushes its way into my consciousness … The idea sends a flush or arousal through my body… but why…?


… But even there the experience is sufficient to make ordinary sex seem bland and uninteresting.

Bland and uninteresting…? Well.. maybe non-existant … but …
I pause reflecting.

But better than telling you, my dear, why don't we try an experiment, whenever you're ready, of course. We can do it right here on line. All I need is your co-operation.

I sit up and stare unbelievingly at the screen.
An experiment …? … online … ?
I have no idea what he means… I know people “cyber” … roleplay on here… but…
It all seemed so … weird… I never got involved in that aspect of things…

As I say, whenever you feel ready to try this, maybe I can give you an idea of what it feels like to be possessed by another, to be the object and source of all his pleasure.

When you're ready, just let me know.

--Peter

Again I let my eyes glance over the email.
…let him know …?
But I don’t know what he means… what he’s… suggesting …
I can’t see myself going there….

I hit reply.

Dear Peter,

I pause wondering how to proceed…

Thanks for your email… was good to receive it when I got in from work.
It’s been a long day and even longer week…

Ok… fine… chatty but…. I hesitate again.

I was interested to read your ideas and views on the D/s lifestyle.
The more I learn the more I realise just how wrong the stereotypes are.

I pause as my hand hover over the keys. I don’t want to offend him, but …
Always be honest … was the ground rule we had established…

I still find the idea of whips, paddles, ropes etc … disturbing …
I know what you said about their use but I just don’t get how that can be erotic …

I pause… but hadn’t I been aroused when the image of being tied forced it’s way into my head…?

I delete and re-write.

I still find the idea of whips, paddles, ropes etc … disturbing …
I know what you said about their use but I just don't understand all that … or my reactions to the idea … part of me, my common sense is appalled by the idea and yet … the image of being bound and helpless … somehow part of me finds that erotic … perhaps it is that more basic instinctive level you speak about… I don’t know…

Again I re-read. I think it sounds … muddled … but so are my thoughts… I think it says what I feel…

One thing I do understand is your comments re: “man’s quest and possession of the female”.
It is the essence of sex… has to be … and yet we are so much more civilised now … taught to repress that … is it right or healthy to try to find those roots if we are happy with the normal sex… ?
Again … I don’t know… just thinking through my fingers again ….

I smile … remembering how Peter coined that term… knowing how often he would sit reading his monitor whilst my fingers seemed to go into free-fall and just type out my thoughts and reactions almost before I could process them and decide what to hold back… what was politic not to share…

As I’ve told you before … the more I learn, the more I realise I haven’t got a clue about this “lifestyle” … it seems very … complex…

And now the tricky bit… I re-read the end of his email.

I wasn’t sure what you meant by your offer of trying out an “experiment” online.

I type and read and re-read the opening.

I have to admit to being intrigued by the idea of
<<what it feels like to be possessed by another, to be the object and source of all his pleasure.>>
But I can’t imagine how you could possibly recreate that online …

I glance at the clock and decide it’s time to make some food.

You always make me think Peter, but you know that.
But as to what I’m ready for … how can I be ready for what I don’t understand?
I do trust you.
I trust you enough to be honest with you.
But … I’m not sure this is something I’d want to explore myself…

I can hear part of me calling myself a "liar"
... knowing that if only I would let myself, i would want to follow my curiosity, explore ...
But as ever, common sense prevails and I reject the impulse.

”Anyhow.. have to run now … will check online later… about 2 hours from now… Hope you’ll be around…
Take care,

Love Emma x


I look quickly over the page and then hit send before I lose my nerve.
I watch as the
”Your mail has been sent” message pops up and click to acknowledge it.

I stand up carefully and put my laptop on the small table beside me.
I decide to keep it logged on … just in case Peter should be around…
I click my IM window on brb and turn up the volume.
Leaving the door open I move down the hall to prepare a meal in the kitchen.
I put the kettle on again.
I know that if Peter logs on, I’d hear the logging on sound that I had chosen uniquely for him … not that I needed to speak to him … this would just … enable me to touch base with him before I settled for the evening …
I told myself convincingly.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Peter Steranko

Dear Emma,

Let's just ignore the whole business about the toys for now. They're really not necessary anyhow, and the truth is, I don't use them unless my partner shows an interest. For now, I'll just say that the limits of sensulaity naturally expand during D/s play, and sometimes more extreme sensation is desired than can be provided unaided.

*L* Don't you love when I get all pedantic and professorial? Do you still think intellectual men are sexy? I hope so.

I'm afraid I may have put you off somewhat when I proposed an online experiment. Really, it's nothing. I'm not even sure it would work. All I would want you to do is use your imagination.

Imagine you are with your lover, whoever that might be. It's a Friday night. (Friday is the day that's sacred to Venus, after all.) What might you be doing? Sitting in fron of the telly, his arm around you. A little kissing, maybe a little caressing. The usual. It feels nice, it's quite pleasant. (I know, I'm making myself drool too.)

Now let's p[icture another Friday night with your lover. You're sitting in the same room. The Telly's off. He's sitting on the sofa, you're sitting on an ottoman in the center of the room. He's looking at you. His eyes are on your body. You can feel the desire in his gaze.

Possibly you feel a bit uneasy, a bit self-conscious, but he's told you to sit there where he can see you so you humor him. He says to you, "Open your blouse, Emma. Slowly, so I can see."

You're not used to taking orders, but he's your lover and you want to please him. Besides, there's something slightly naughty about this, isn't there. So your fingers go to the buttons on your blouse and you begin to unfasten them, one by one.

His eyes never leave your body as you open your blouse, and with each button that opens, you can feel his desire build. You can feel the tension build. Your bra is exposed, the skin of your body. You feel yourself grow excited; it is so wicked to do this.

Finally your blouse is open. He tells you to remove it. You pull it off and let it slide down your arms and on to the floor.

He is quite excited now, isn't he? And so are you. Why are you both so excited? He's seen you in your bra many times. Why is this time different? WOuld this be as exciting if you were just stripping for him? If he weren't telling you what to do?

"Caress yourself." he tells you. "I want to see you caress your breasts." You don't hesitate. You run your hands over your bra because you know that he wants you to do this. You know that it pleases him to watch you do this. It excites him: you excite him. Your touch feels good, though not as good as his would feel.

You're embarrassed to be doing this, aren't you? You wouldn't do this normally would you? But he wants you to do this.

He gets uup and walks over to you. "Don't move." he tells you. "Stay just as you are."

He caresses your breasts now. He runs his fingers beneath the cups of your bra and against your skin. He finds your nipples and his fingers glide over them. You want to reach for him but he's forbidden it. He's possessing you with his hands and there's nothing you can do to stop him. You can feel his possessiveness in his touch, as if he owns your body. He doesn't want you to touch him, he doesn't want you to reciprocate. He wants you to sit there and be caressed, sit there and be desirable. He wants you to be his for the taking...


<laughs> Well, that's it in a nutshell. Just a quick experiment of course, a little daydream. But if it's aroused you at all, ask yourself why. What is it about this fantasy that's excited you? Then report back to me.

The night's still young, Emma, my sweet, and the human heart is a wonderfully mysterious thing, filled with secret places and dark corners where lurk the most marvelous surprises. I'd love to take you exploring.

Write me, Emma. I'll be here.

Love,

Peter

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Emma Collins

Curling contentedly back on the cushions and beanbags, I sip at the glass of chilled wine in my hand.
Mmm…. Only 8:30 pm and I was settled for the evening … bliss!
I glanced at the laptop and noticed that I had mail.
I hadn’t heard the You have mail” announcement, but then again it seemed that Peter hadn’t logged onto IM whilst I’d been away.

I settled down and clicked on the icon:

Date: 27/05/2003

Address: EmmaC@telenet.com

Experiment

Uhoh… this was going to be good … I began to read…

I smiled as I read his first paragraph… why was it that whenever he wrote to me, I could almost here him speaking … and yet we had never voice chatted … I imagined his voice being deep… but had no idea of his American accent… or what it would be like….

I dragged my attention back to the screen.

Dear Emma,

For now, I'll just say that the limits of sensuality naturally expand during D/s play, and sometimes more extreme sensation is desired than can be provided unaided.

MMmm… limits of sensuality … yes … I could relate to that …

*L* Don't you love when I get all pedantic and professorial? Do you still think intellectual men are sexy? I hope so.

I giggled as I read. Yes I had told him that.
He never seemed to forget a thing!
He did seem to have a naturally “authoritative” air about him … but … seemed so … perceptive … sensitive too …
Yes… intelligent was sexy … I could never fall for a “dim” guy…

I read on …

I'm afraid I may have put you off somewhat when I proposed an online experiment. Really, it's nothing. I'm not even sure it would work. All I would want you to do is use your imagination.

I was almost disappointed.
“Experimentation” of the kind he alluded to was way out of my reach in real time.
I couldn’t imagine ever treading that path, how do you even begin to broach the subject … but imaginatively….

Imagine you are with your lover, whoever that might be. It's a Friday night. (Friday is the day that's sacred to Venus, after all.) What might you be doing? Sitting in front of the telly, his arm around you. A little kissing, maybe a little caressing. The usual. It feels nice, it's quite pleasant. (I know, I'm making myself drool too.)

I giggle disarmed by his humour, his intuitive awareness of my reaction.
I read his words… let myself imagine … it had been a while… but a cosy Friday night … mmmm…

Now let's p[icture another Friday night with your lover. You're sitting in the same room. The Telly's off. He's sitting on the sofa, you're sitting on an ottoman in the center of the room. He's looking at you. His eyes are on your body. You can feel the desire in his gaze.

I shiver imagining … and read on as he paints the scenario …

… Besides, there's something slightly naughty about this, isn't there.

He asks me’ it’s as if his voice fills the room … unaware of my response, I nod and read on …

You feel yourself grow excited; it is so wicked to do this.

I feel a shiver of arousal run through my body.
Yes … it would be wicked … naughty … but so …

He is quite excited now, isn't he? And so are you. Why are you both so excited? He's seen you in your bra many times. Why is this time different? WOuld this be as exciting if you were just stripping for him? If he weren't telling you what to do?

His words “voice” the questions running through my mind.
Again his perception astounds me.

"Caress yourself." he tells you. "I want to see you caress your breasts."

I start as I find my hands moving to my aroused nipples and quickly pull my hand away …

”… god… “

I murmur to myself, amazed at the power of his words.
I take a steadying breath and read on.

You're embarrassed to be doing this, aren't you? You wouldn't do this normally would you? But he wants you to do this.

The words jump out at me.
My cheeks are pinked.
I lick my dry lips and read on.

He's possessing you with his hands and there's nothing you can do to stop him. You can feel his possessiveness in his touch, as if he owns your body. He doesn't want you to touch him, he doesn't want you to reciprocate. He wants you to sit there and be caressed, sit there and be desirable. He wants you to be his for the taking...

I sit and let my imagination work, the image so clear in my head, the imagined sensations making my body quiver.


<laughs> Well, that's it in a nutshell. Just a quick experiment of course, a little daydream.

I let my breath out, aware only now that I’ve been holding it.
The tone of the email fortunately changes and I can breathe easy.

But if it's aroused you at all, ask yourself why. What is it about this fantasy that's excited you? Then report back to me.

I couldn’t tell him how … heated ... that had made me feel ...
but… we’d promised honestly … if he knew how his story had made me react…
I read on as my mind argues with itself.

The night's still young, Emma, my sweet, and the human heart is a wonderfully mysterious thing, filled with secret places and dark corners where lurk the most marvellous surprises. I'd love to take you exploring.

Such a tempting invitation. But …

Write me, Emma. I'll be here…

I had to respond… somehow… but how?
I click reply.

Re: Experiment

I look at the page and then start.

Dear Peter

Shit, this was difficult …

Thanks for the email. Was so good to hear from you again, so soon.

But now what should I write…?
I pause and consider … then type …

Well if your little daydream was supposed to get me all wound up it certainly worked!
You had me really hooked … you’re quite a storyteller you know!
But then again, you know I think you’re intelligent and therefore sexy! ::ggls::

Unfortunately, sad little me is home when most of London are out partying (or so it seems!) … I’ll have my laptop dialled up all evening, so feel free to write me if you’re at a loose end….

Love Emma x

I look over the text and smile.
That worked.
It was honest, but it gave no indication of how deeply his words had affected me.
I knew what I was doing. Humour was a good shield.
It deflected even the most perceptive. At least it had so far.
If I didn’t appear to take this too seriously, then it wouldn’t get too “heavy”.
A casual light-hearted response.
His first little “experiment” might have worked, but as he had said who could make sense of the mysteries of the heart and therefore the body?

I look at the screen and minimise my mailbox.
I refuse to acknowledge the niggling sense of unease… guilt? … disappointment that I had chosen a “safer” route.

I pick up my wine and sip at it flicking on the CD player.
I try not to think of the images that still seem planted in my mind …

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Emma & Peter

For over half an hour I’m distracted.
I pick up a magazine, change my music over and finally see the mail icon flashing.
I hesitate and then laughing at myself I click to find His email.

Dear Emma,
So my little daydream got you all worked up? *L* Well, that's a good sign. But I already knew you had a good erotic imagination and were a very sensuous woman.

Ever the charmer! Always flattering. I smile.

And we both know I stacked the deck to make the second version sexier than the first.

I hope you got my point though. There's something sexy about letting someone else control a piece of ourselves, if only for a little while.

For a little while? Yes … even just reading that scenario …

ll tell you what: we're both alone on a Friday night. Fire up that voice chat app we used before and let's try a real live experiment.

Again, it’s as if he’s speaking to me, challenging me.
Use the voice chat? For that kind of experiement?
I wouldn’t be able to. I was self-conscious enough as it was the few times I used voice chat.

… Don't be so scared. I can't do anything.
And you can even fake it if you want.

Yes I could. But then … what would be the point.
Besides you could fake much less in voice chat!

I checked the time of the email. It had been sent over 15 mins ago.
If he had logged on, then he’d have given up by now!
Almost reluctantly I click and open the programme.
Over and over I tell myself that he’ll be gone by now.

When his chat window pops up, I stare at it for minutes as if wondering why it was there … and then I click accept and put the headphones and mike in place.
I take a deep breath and open my side of the conversation.


Peter: Emma? Are you there? How are you, love?

I smile hearing that accent again, hearing his deeply melodious voice.

Emma: Hi Peter … I’m here… I.. I’m not too sure about this experiment thing though. Maybe…we.. umm.. should just chat like last time…?

I suggest hesitantly.
He pauses and then continues in a gentle tone.

Peter: Okay, look, all I need from you is your co-operation.
Now, we've known each other for a while. I know you pretty well and you know me: what's a little cybering between friends, huh?

I join in his laugh and feel myself relaxing.
Why I’m tense, I have no idea. What was there to be nervous about after all!

Emma: Ok… I guess we can give it a go …

He chuckles again, probably at my lack of enthusiasm and then becomes serious.

Peter: Now, I already know that you're wearing your robe, and you're probably drinking some wine, right?

Emma: Right …

I agree, my voice soft as I listen to him.

Peter: Now turn off your music and turn down the lights. I'll wait.

I hesitate.
This is where I could begin faking it.
This was so silly. I felt silly doing as he told me, but still…
I unhook the headphones and switch off the music.
I turn off the main lights and switch on two side lamps that give a rosy glow.
I draw the curtains.
I go back to the computer and put on the headphones again.

Emma: Ok… It’s done …

I inform him breathlessly. I can hear Peter’s breathing at the other end of the connection.

Peter: Make yourself comfortable in front of the computer.

I shift my position and prop myself comfortably on the beanbags and scatter cushions.

We're old friends, well, old by internet standards.

I smile and relax as he laughs.

Remember that this is just an experiment. I need you to do what I tell you.
You can quit whenever you want just by telling me you've had enough, but until then, you have to do as I say, okay? For me?

He was right. I did know him well by now.
This was just a game.. an experiment … nothing to lose.
I would just stop if it got too silly.

Emma: Ok Peter … I’m ready… for you .. right ?

I could almost hear him smile as he took a deep breath and began to talk my through his “scenario”.

Peter: Okay, relax, Emma. For now we're lovers. Just pretend.

My cheeks pinked slightly. I nodded.

Your robe is some fine gown, and I'm in the room with you,

I remembered his picture and visualised him there.

I'm looking at you with that look in my eyes that men get.
I know you've seen it before.
You're a beautiful and desirable woman, Emma, and I know you've seen that look plenty of times.

He’d had my picture. I smiled at the compliment, but made no comment.
I continued to listen … to imagine …

But instead of coming over and kissing you, or grabbing you, I'm going to sit down here in this chair, still looking at you.
And now--are you ready now?—I'm going to tell you to open your robe.

I breathe in sharply, unaware that he can hear.
His voice remains calm and steady as he continues.

Just untie it and let it fall open. That's what I want you to do for me, Emma.

There was no reason not to … but still …

It's your own flat; no one's around. Just open your robe.
Open your robe because I want you to.

I exclaim softly and move to untie my robe.
I draw a steadying breath.
And without my telling him, he knows I’ve done as he asked.

Now I want you to put your hands on your knees.
Just your fingertips. Put them just above your knees on your bare legs.

I move my hands feeling foolish, but wanting to go with the experiment.
Perhaps just to prove to myself that his ideas were …

Okay, close your eyes and feel them there. Feel your fingertips on your knees.

My eyes are closed and my mind is filled with his voice.
It sounds so close, so persuasive.

Now slowly draw your fingers up your legs.

I hesitate and blush, my eyes still pressed closed.

Draw your fingertips up your legs because I want you to.
I don't care if you're embarrassed or feel silly.

Again my breath catches at his perception.

I want you to do this for me, Emma. I need you to do this for me.

I nod and move my hands. I give a sigh of relief when I’ve completed the command.
But Peter continues.

Now do it again, but this time, let your hands wander to the insides of your thighs as you bring them up.

Even as my mind protests, his voice counters my thoughts.

Remember you're doing this because I'm telling you to.
I don’t care if you feel silly or embarrassed. Do it for me.
You're doing it because I want you to. You're letting me call the shots.

I swallow.

Emma: For you …er… ok…

My voice is soft, husky as I move my fingers.
Still Peter’s hypnotic voice continues.

Do it again,. Feel your fingertips on your skin, feel how soft your skin is.

I do so. I feel a shiver run through my body.

Now tell me the truth, Emma. Are you getting aroused?
Do you want me to go on?
Tell me Emma.

I remain with my eyes closed.
My mind races and I speak without thinking.

Emma: I … I don’t know how I feel. It’s … strange … scary …
It feels so … different when I’m doing it for you … it’s difficult to do as you tell me … it.. it helps when I’ve got my eyes closed… cos.. I can just concentrate on your voice, Peter …

I tell him breathlessly.