The Key to Me

His obvious struggle filled her with a heady sense of power, and she could feel the moisture pooling between her legs, soaking the panel of her satin panties.

In the days leading up to this encounter, Dora had denied herself relief of any kind. Fasting before a meal always seemed to make what was offered all the sweeter, and if this scene went the way she hoped it would, she intended to feast.

God, he was handsome -- though not in the conventional, pretty boy sense. His features were far too rugged for him to be categorized as eye candy, but she was drawn to him, nonetheless. She'd seen his picture, so she'd known he would be tall and fit; muscular due to the physical demands of his profession.

She'd still been unprepared for the attraction that sizzled like blue lightning between them. Of course, this was part what she'd been searching for, but you never knew. Some of the people with whom she'd previously played had been quite striking. While the scenes themselves had been hot in the moment, when it came to a long-term connection the chemistry had always felt a bit off.

No one had aroused her on as many levels as Derek did, and they'd scarcely started. Dora's knees wanted to tremble from the lust he was unconsciously generating within her, but she made herself hold firm.

His conflict, despite his obvious arousal, was like a siren's song: impossible to resist. It called to the predator within her, and she felt simultaneous urges to exploit and to soothe. The strife between the two was delicious. Even she was not sure which would win over the other.

Dora noted the added toll the silence had taken on Derek. Because it pleased her to look her fill, she waited a few additional moments to savor the rear view of him before she circled to stand before him once more.

She cupped his chin, enjoying the solid weight of his jaw resting in her hand. The bristles of his 5 o'clock shadow teased the sensitive skin of her palm, igniting fantasies of what that rasp might feel like against other fragile, more tender tissues. Corralling her wayward thoughts, Dora exerted upward pressure on his jawline.

"Look at me, Derek."

Slowly, his gaze traveled upward, taking note of delicate ankles, shapely legs and hips, and firm breasts - only to be halted by the intriguing glimpse of red lace playing peekaboo from the lower edge of her collar.

"Derek."

The warning in her tone was unmistakable. Reluctantly, he continued his upward journey, until his gaze met hers. Glass green eyes clashed with dark chocolate brown, as each fought for dominance. Her stare never faltered, and after a brief internal struggle, Derek averted his eyes.

Satisfied, Dora nodded.

"That's better, darlin'. You've never done this before, and it's natural to be nervous. If it all gets to be too much, remember your safe word and we'll stop."

Slowly, Derek released the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He could do this. All his life, he'd been the one in control and just this once, it might be nice to have someone else carry the load.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Excellent!"

Dora couldn't keep the pleased purr from her voice as she released his chin, skimming her fingertips along his chiseled jaw, over the sensitive join of neck and shoulder, and down the length of his arm to capture his hand. Her thumb backcombed the coarse blond hair at the juncture of his wrist and forearm. Her nipples hardened when goose bumps rose in the wake of her caress.

"Rise and follow me."

Releasing him, Dora pivoted on the ball of her foot, and walked with supple grace into the adjoining bedroom.

Derek's eyes were riveted by the sway of her firm hips and thighs. The black velvet of her skirt whispered quietly against her bare legs, cupping her ass like the touch of a possessive lover. The dancer she had been was evident in the play of her muscles as she moved. Derek came to an abrupt halt when he realized Dora had suddenly stopped. He'd nearly walked right over her.

Smooth move, dumb ass. Bowl the lady over, why don't you?

Her raised eyebrow said she was aware of exactly where his eyes had been. Heat suffused his face as he realized he'd been caught. Dora's wicked grin did nothing to quell his embarrassment.

"I'll forgive you that lapse in concentration, darlin' -- this time."

Sauntering over to the bed, Dora sat at the foot, toeing off her elegant pumps. She directed him to move a small stool so she could rest her feet with her knees perpendicular to the floor.

"I plan to be here for a while, darlin', so I might as well be comfortable."

She picked up the length of black satin lying beside her and draped it protectively over her skirt. With a sensual but devilish gleam in her eyes, Dora patted her knees.

"Assume the position. Let's test your mettle."

Derek swallowed audibly, then moved to comply. He draped his body over her legs, so that his upturned ass lay directly over her lap, and his cock rested in the small valley formed by the juncture of her thighs.

He easily braced his upper body on his hands, while his legs were supported by his feet, in an exaggerated version of a push up. She was tiny, and the last thing he wanted to do was to crush her with his greater weight. Even as the thought faded, embarrassment came creeping back in.

What I am doing? I'm a grown man, for fuck's sake, not a naughty child in need of an ass-whipping.

Like most men, Derek had been socially conditioned to always maintain control of any situation, and to never admit defeat. Hell, his clients hired him for the protection his strength could offer them. What would they think if they could see him draped like a kid over his mama's lap? Humiliation began to override lust. He fought with and lost to the compulsion to rise.

Dora worried her bottom lip as the ever-increasing rigidity of Derek's muscles clearly conveyed his inner turmoil. The definition of humiliation varied from person to person. Play of this sort had the potential to be extremely hot, but you had to be careful, and pay strict attention to body language.

Even when trust was already well established, you never knew exactly how someone might react. One small misstep could trigger a mental landmine and stop an otherwise scorching scene dead in its tracks. Dora feared Derek was already nearing this point, and she desperately wanted him to stay.

She trailed a gentle caress up and then down the hollow of his spine, as she tried to determine the best way to offer a concession to what she guessed was wounded pride. She rubbed soothing circles in the small of his back.

"Tell you what, darlin'. Let's change your position somewhat. We may be here for a bit, and I don't want you to get fatigued." She gave his ass an affectionate squeeze.

"Rise up."

Lifting his body off her lap, Derek sat back on his heels and stared at Dora's profile, protocol be damned. An inexplicable sense of failure roiled within his gut. Had she known he was about to bolt? The distraction was incredibly well timed, and he found it more than unnerving.

Dora watched the range of emotions play across Derek's face, the red flush on his cheekbones clearly betraying his inner thoughts. She could see the fine trembling of his hands, the way he flexed and released his fingers, an attempt to mask his agitation. Before he could speak, she turned more fully towards him, cradling his face in her hands. Her fingertips feathered his cheekbones as she bathed his lips with the warmth of her breath.

"Trust me," she whispered.

Derek's eyes bored into hers as he searched for something he couldn't name within their depths. Reassurance, maybe?

Don't be ridiculous, mocked his inner caveman.

Physically, she wasn't a threat. But this went above and beyond. For reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, she was getting under his skin, and he was finding it harder than he'd thought to maintain an even emotional keel.

Derek closed his eyes and drew several deep breaths. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be here. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave, either. Deciding for the moment to tough it out, he silently exhaled.

"Yes, Ma'am. I trust you."

Some of the tension in Dora's own shoulders eased. She wanted Derek's surrender, that much was true, but there was no way she could force it from him. She could, however; inspire his confidence. Beguile. Entice. So that he'd give it of his own accord.

She closed the slight distance between them and brushed butterfly kisses over his lips. He moved to follow the delicate caress, but her throaty command stopped him cold.

"Be still."

Derek froze at the order, although it went against every instinct he had. Lazily, Dora traced the seam between his lips with her tongue. When they parted, she ignored the invitation to enter his mouth, instead lightly capturing his upper lip between her own. She gave it a sharp nip, then soothed the sting with the quick laving of her tongue.

She felt his breath quicken as she abandoned his top lip for the bottom one and began to suckle. As the taste of him filled her mouth, Dora began to think she could happily stay forever lost in the cinnamon flavor of him.

Derek's moan of pleasure brought her back to her senses, and she quickly released his mouth. Exhaling on a shaky breath, she took a moment to compose herself. She'd have to be careful. The duality of his strength and his vulnerability was a powerful aphrodisiac that went straight to her head, making her feel almost drunk.

She had to maintain her control, but he made her feel reckless, filled with insatiable greed. She wanted to unleash every dark fantasy she'd ever had upon him, wanted to pour out every secret, every hidden desire she had within, only to have him beg for more. Silently, she chided herself.

Focus, Dora, focus. One thing at a time. Gain his trust. Seduce him. Make him crave your authority.

Shifting her body so that she now sat at a slight angle on the bed, she patted her knees. "You know what to do."

Despite his earlier misgivings, Dora's obvious attraction to him now filled Derek with a sense of machismo.

Seriously, Kennedy, where are your balls? She's ONE woman, a tiny one to boot. Just how bad can it be? You can handle whatever she dishes out.

Feeling smug, he once again draped himself over Dora's lap, using the bed to support his upper body. He pillowed his head on his arms as she nudged his thighs apart, so that his feet were positioned for better support.

Dora glanced at Derek's face. Although his gaze didn't meet hers, he seemed calmer than before. Encouraged, she murmured, "Do remember that you are not to come unless given permission to do so. Understood?"

Derek nodded, then remembered protocol. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Then let's begin."

Derek's buttocks tightened in anticipation of the blow he'd come to expect. Dora grinned wickedly to herself, and instead ran her hands over his ass and his thighs, enjoying the texture of his skin, the firmness of his muscles, and the rasp of hair that lightly dusted his cheeks. The sheer intimacy of skin to skin contact never ceased to fascinate her.

As she kneaded and molded the muscles of his ass, Derek relaxed, only to be caught off guard by the sudden pop of flesh meeting flesh. He jumped, more from surprise than pain, because she truly hadn't struck him with much force. He felt the heat from her hand as she soothed his skin. He started to relax once again, only to have her repeat the strike. As before, Derek jumped, but soon settled as Dora established a predictable rhythm of pop and caress. Absently, he closed his eyes.

I've got this in the bag. She's not hitting me all that hard. This is a no brainer.

Derek mentally drifted until the rhythm changed, jarring him out of complacency. Dora's blows were now landing with greater frequency and force. At times, she struck with a cupped hand, which seemed to dull the impact. Other times, she'd hit squarely with the flat of her palm, sending tendrils of fire spreading from the epicenter. She varied the location of each blow, sometimes catching him dead center of the cheek, while other times catching him on the more sensitive underside of his buttocks.

Despite her diminutive size, Dora had a strong arm, and she covered every square inch of his ass. His skin felt like it was on fire, and it seemed as if his ass was glowing like a neon sign. Gone were the soothing touches in between strikes, and he began to wriggle from the discomfort.

Responding to his distress, Dora took the opportunity to rest her stinging hand in the small of his back, while issuing further instruction.

"Don't move."

Derek fought to obey, to slow his breathing - a task made more difficult by the feel of Dora's nails lightly tracing the valley between his cheeks, down his taint, over his balls, and up the portion of his shaft within her reach.

Chills raced from head to toe as she repeated the caress several times. Despite her command, he couldn't help but squirm. The warm satin against his cock, combined with the sensation of her nails, made him harder than ever before, and he bucked his hips, seeking to increase the friction.

Dora smiled inwardly, pleased by his response. BDSM didn't necessarily have to be about pain; pleasure could be its own form of torment. Still, she smacked his ass hard enough to make him yelp as she growled. "I thought I told you to stay still." And with that, a new volley of blows began to rain down.

Derek felt pain override desire. Fuck me, this hurts! I'm out of here.

*******

The renewed tension in the line of his body told Dora that she was on the brink of losing Derek once more. Intuition told her she had to give him more incentive to stay. Pressing her silk covered breasts against his back, she moaned into his ear.

"Do you know how much you're turnin' me on, Derek? Do you realize how wet it makes me to see the pretty red flush of color on your ass? To feel the heat risin' from your skin?"

Dora squeezed both of his reddened cheeks, letting him feel the slight sting of her nails as she continued.

"Let's face it, darlin', we both know you could break me in half if you so desired, and there'd be no one to stop you. But here you are, draped across my lap of your own free will. You're so fuckin' hot that you're drivin' me crazy! I swear I could eat you alive!"

Dora shifted her position so that Derek's face now lay in the cradle of her upper thighs, the pressure of her hands on the back of his head firmly pressing his nose against the fabric covering her pussy.

"Breathe, Derek. Breathe deeply, and smell what you've done to me."

With bated breath, she waited to see what he would do.

Derek's nostrils flared as he caught the unmistakable scent of aroused feminine flesh, sending his mind spinning like a top. He wasn't a selfish lover, but until now his focus had been internal, entirely unaware of his effect upon Dora. He buried his face deeper into the vee of her legs, trying to immerse himself in that alluring scent, only to be thwarted by the cloth impeding his access.

Derek loved everything about eating out a woman: the erotic fragrance covering his face, the taste and feel of hot, slick flesh against his tongue. The movement of bucking hips. The sound of helpless cries falling from parted lips. All of it combined to form his drug of choice. The inability to utilize his usual methods of driving his partner's arousal even higher drove him out of his god damn mind.

Wait, what had she said? Something about being draped across her lap -- of his own free will? He'd inspired the lust within her simply by following her lead? The intensity of the realization sent his head spinning even more. It made no fucking sense, but there was no mistaking that aroma.

Derek could feel the hunger emanating from Dora in waves of heat, a hunger created and sustained by the subjugation of his desire to hers. Where seconds before he'd been on the brink of calling the whole thing off, Derek was suddenly filled with a sense of power that had absolutely nothing to do with physical strength.

Like an addict craving his next fix, he knew what he had to do, even though it fucking killed him not to plunge his tongue into her scorching, wet heat.

Without being asked, Derek moved himself back into position across Dora's lap, a silent plea for her to continue.

The swiftly exhaled breath she could not conceal, coupled with the shudder he felt move through her slight frame, told him his impulse had been dead on. As she resumed, Derek felt a mental...easing? Not entirely sure what to label it, he only knew that something in his psyche had shifted. To his astonishment, he could feel himself lifting his ass to meet her strike.

It still hurt like fuck, but somehow his mind had moved to a different plane of thought. Unaware, his body grew more pliant as he drifted on a sea of calm; broken only when he realized Dora had finally stopped, both hands resting on his heated flesh. Disoriented, he opened his eyes, and glanced back inquiringly at her.

Technically, Dora knew she should bust Derek's chops for once again breaking protocol, but she was too damn proud of him to care. Her brilliant smile said it all.

"Well done, darlin'. I'm impressed with your fortitude."

Even though her hands were on fire, she caressed his damp skin while his breathing returned to normal. Finally, she ordered him to kneel back. As he moved to comply, she noticed the trail of pre-come his cock had leaked across the fabric protecting her skirt. Smirking, Dora at last acknowledged Derek's raging hard on.

"From the looks of you, I'd say you enjoyed that. And since you showed such admirable restraint for a rookie, I'm in the mood to reward you."

As she stood, she nudged the foot stool to the side, the black satin pooling to the floor at her feet. Easing her skirt up, inch by inch, Dora allowed Derek a full view of her firm thighs. Her red satin panties were soaked. Her unique fragrance, a natural combination of soap and feminine musk, only added to the sexual tension gripping him.

Placing her left foot on his thigh for balance, she teased her fingers under the lacy waistband, then drew the panties down the length of those dancer legs, stepping out of and then kicking them aside when they reached her ankles.

Derek bit off a protest as her skirt fell back into place, blocking his view of the bare, glistening lips at the juncture of her thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don't move, Kennedy. Don't you dare fucking move. It took every ounce of his self-control not to seize her hips, ruck the material to her waist, and bury his face in the wet heat of her cunt. He could all but taste her and to be denied was excruciating.

Enjoying the tease, Dora ordered Derek to lean back onto his palms from his semi-kneeling position, so that his cock now thrust upwards, as if in offering. He complied, wincing when his sore ass pressed against the rougher skin of his feet.

She nudged his knees wider apart with her foot, then settled down into the vee created between his thighs, the warm velvet of her skirt tantalizing the tender inner skin. Picking up her soaked panties, she held them against the sensitive skin of his frenulum.

"You're not to come until given permission. Understood?"

Derek swallowed against the sudden desert of his mouth and rasped out his reply.

"Yes, Ma'am".

Dora eased the fabric down his shaft, over and under his balls, then around and up the other side of his length, spreading both her moisture and her scent over him before she finally grasped his cock and began to stroke in earnest. The drenched red satin caused a pleasurable friction that added fuel to the inferno already burning in his gut. Using various rhythms, she played his body like an instrument, until he began to tremble from the assault upon his flesh.