We’ve been in the kitchen for 11 episodes now, with Raylene slowly getting undressed, and getting her pussystroked while we pussyfooted around questions like whether Raylene knew what submission is and whether she wanted to be submissive, to me, right then and there. Finally I’d given her a direct order, and she’d obeyed it without any more protest. Except for biting my neck and calling me a fucking bastard, which is quite a lot of protest, really. Still, we’d made some progress. But will we ever get out of the damn kitchen? Now read on.
Raylene stood, jeans and panties halfway down her thighs and her arms held up in a gesture that meant surrender. It also I should remove her jersey, which was all she was wearing above the waist. Actually it was all she was wearing above her mid-thighs, where her jeans and panties had gathered, abandoned.
I looked at her and nodded interrogatively, eyebrows raised. It was a last chance to back out. Raylene nodded back, eyes down.
So that sealed it.
I pulled the jersey over her head, tousling her green and blue hair and releasing her heavy, though firm breasts. I put the jersey on the table. Raylene stood still, almost naked, with her arms up. I hadn’t told her to put them down. She was plump, tall, like the girls who worked on farms when I was growing up, strong and very female, and very fuckable. It occurred to me that back when she was running with the neo-Nazis, she’d have been good in a fight.
I said, “Put your hands on your head.” Raylene complied.
She watched my eyes, not my hand, as I reached for her right breast. I cupped her with my hand and lifted a little. I pinched her nipple, not really to hurt her but to show that I was certainly going to hurt her in that way later. The tattoo on her lower belly rippled.
Raylene was trembling.
I lifted my hand to her face, stroked her cheek, and traced my fingers along her mouth. She kissed the fingers, and then my mouth when I took her close. “You’re going to do as you’re told, from now on, aren’t you?”
I said, “No, that won’t do. Say it. Speak.”
Raylene coughed. Eventually she said, “Yes. Yes, I am.” She needed water.