I didn’t know what woke me. Not at first. Qing slept beside me, her tiny body coiled, with her head half under her pillow and her little ass pushed back at me for her comfort and mine. A cord I’d noticed before we slept, one of the four tied to the bedends, lay on the sheet near her mouth, wet with her drool. Another comforter, I supposed. When she slept alone.
I lay on my side behind her, my arm over her shoulder resting on the swelling of her left breast. In the times I was awake and hard, I’d enjoyed its insistent arousal in my palm.
Through the night I’d listened to her sleeping breathing, with my cock sometimes hard in the warm, comfortable gap between the top of her thighs.
Sometimes I’d soften and drift towards sleep, but whenever she moved I’d wake up and my cock would straighten, wanting her.
(That gap at the top of the thighs: it’s the sub-pudendal inter-gracile fossa. The name for that part of the body is my contribution to medical science. It may be useless – I mean my contribution – but it‘s sexy.)
But I must have slept for few hours, eventually, because some time after four in the morning I woke up. Qing had reached back to hold and enclose my cock in her right hand. I could feel my heart-beat, held inside that little cage of fingers.
There were no curtains on her window, and outside I could see light in the gaps between the trees. There’d be birdsong soon. But in her room it was still dark and quiet. I watched her shoulder rise and fall with her breathing. Qing must have sensed that I’d woken up, because although she didn’t move at first, she made a satisfied, happy noise, and stroked the underside of my cock with her thumb.
I sucked in a breath, intending her to hear and understand that I was awake, and that it was okay for her to know it. I wanted her to feel certain that I was pleased to find myself in her bed, and to find her wanton again. Qing ran her thumb up and down the underside of my cock, still holding me lightly with her fingers, until the sensation was almost unbearable. Whenever she touched me my cock jumped like a salmon climbing a rapid.
She turned over at last, and kissed my belly. I said, “ahh..” But she moved lower, down the bed.
I suspected that I should stop her. Or I kind of did. I was sure I’d come far too soon if she sucked me. And while coming in Qing’s mouth wasn’t the worst thing I could think of, I’d prefer to delay a bit longer.
But she took the head of my cock in her mouth, and I no longer had the willpower to tell her to stop. I let her please me. If she’d been mine and submissive I’d have trained her a little more: teaching her how to suck as hard as I want without getting her teeth in the way, and I’d have wanted to make my points with the help of a rope’s end.
Still, I don’t think it’s possible for a man not to be pleased with a woman with her mouth full with his cock.
But I remembered that rope’s end, the cords that had been in her mouth while she slept. I found that they stretched as far as the cleft between her buttocks, and I gave her a series of light strokes across the near half of her ass, to encourage her.
Qing frowned. I doubted that she’d ever been whipped before. But the strokes were light-ish – the way she’d soaked the end with her drool helped to make it land across her skin a little harder – and they helped her with rhythm.
I hoped she also felt the strokes were interestingly, enjoyably perverse. She seemed to be happy, so I kept her whipping going. Then I made the strokes harder, and Qing came up for air. She was hesitant about speaking. She was trying to remember something.
“You’d asked me about these, when I was drifting off, didn’t you?”
The phrasing told me what was missing. “Jaime. I’m Jaime,” I said. And to show off, I added, “And you’re Qing.”
“Jaime, sorry. Anyway, you’re only more or less righ’ with my name. You don’t qui’e get the ‘chj’ sound. So: Jaime.”
“C’est moi. Anyway, I thought this” – I whacked her ass again with the cords – “was interesting. Not every girl has ropes tied onto her bedends?”
“Well, not every boy pays any attention to them. You’re the first, actually. An’ … I didn’t put them there. I just – what’s the word? – inhabited? No, inherent?”
“Ah-yuh. I inherited the bed when I took the room. And the ropes were already there. I just never took them off. It was too hard.”
I had a little pile of things I’d taken from my pockets when I’d undressed: the condoms, but also my phone, keys, some cash and my Swiss Army knife. I held up the knife, with all blades closed. “Really? You couldn’t get them off, and that’s why they’re still here? It’s very easy to fix that. I can cut them off right now if you like.”
“No! It’s ok!” She was trying to sound casual. She didn’t remotely succeed.
So I said, “Well, whether they stay or go, would you like to try them on? Now?”
Qing dropped her head and licked my cock again. She busied herself with that project, and said nothing.
“Qing, I can’t do anything unless you say the magic word.”
“Okay, magic words: say, ‘yes, please’.
“Not quite yet. First I tell you that I’ll put you on your tummy. And that I’ll tie your feet apart, and your hands together behind your back. And among other things, I’ll fuck you while you can’t move.”
“Tha’ would be your turn-on, would it?”
“I’d enjoy m’self, for sure. But the question’s what you want. Now: ‘yes, please’, or ‘no thanks’?”
“Ah… And how do -“
I don’t know what she was going to ask, but I know delaying tactics when I hear them. So I smacked her bottom with her saliva-soaked card again. She said, “Aa-aiie!”
I smiled at her, as though I were a reasonable man. “So that’s a ‘no, thanks’?”
“No.” That sounded considered. “I mean, it’s not ‘no thanks’. It is ‘yes, please’. If you promise to remember tha’ I haven’t done this before.”
“Good girl. Very good girl.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Now spread your legs.”