forthsofar | the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

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nick

the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

She's kept quiet about it. Not because of any worry or concern, not because she feels as though she's done anything wrong--indeed, in a way this feels the furthest thing from incorrect. There's just been a lot to think about, thoughts and feelings and needs that she's been turning over in her head and trying to parse out on her own before she brings them up with either Nick or Sabrina. She'll need to, because they're the cause of it all, the ones that sparked that odd blossoming warmth within her as they asked questions that held just the barest edge of command behind them.

It could be that she's understanding it all wrong, her relative inexperience turning words murmured in the heat of passion into something that feels more weighty than it is. But somehow, she doesn't think so. Whether she's misunderstood or not, though, Rosie wants to be sure of herself, and sure of what she wants. As she'd been told before, so many times, that's the only way this works.

After a few days of thought, she's ready to open the conversation, and given that they already had plans this afternoon, Nick seems the perfect person to start with. Settled on his couch and entwined under a blanket, they watch--well, mostly--the season premiere of that awful witch show Nick had fallen in love with during his convalescence, the both of them laughing and shouting things at the screen. Once it's over, Rosie reaches for the remote control, clicking the television off.

"Nick," she says softly, a flutter of uncertainty starting up in the pit of her stomach, something she tries to ignore. She turns in his arms until she can press a kiss to his mouth. "Could I...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." Realizing how that might sound only once it's out, her eyes widen, just slightly. "Something...I think it's something good, I promise."

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"It's really not that bad," he reassures her, still playing with her hair. "Especially if it's consensual and everyone's having fun. It's definitely something that we can play with, if you want..."

"I'd only want to do it if we were both alright with it," she says, and it's easier now to lean into that touch to her hair, letting it soothe her as it always has before. "And since it seems we are...yes. Let's play around with it, I'd like to do that."

"Would it help to know what I like, when I play like that?" He asks, head tilted. "Might give you an idea of some of the things you'd like to try."

He's not at all self conscious when it comes to things like this.

Even as awkward as she sometimes feels, being so inexperienced while Nick is very much the opposite, Rosie can't deny how useful it is at times like these. "I think it would," she says, trying to project a bit more confidence when she nods once again. "I could use a few ideas, probably, something to start with."

She smiles again, shy and a little coy all at once. "And I always like hearing the things you're into, Nick."

"Well, the being made for ask what I want. The pleases. That's a good start," he says, shifting so he's more comfortable. "I like a little pain. Being tied up is good. Being called names."

It's quite the list, and Rosie has a sense it's really only the beginning of one much longer. She snags her lip in her teeth, thinking it all over, weighing her feelings. "Names like...like what?" she asks, that one catching her focus--and a bit of her concern--first. "I don't know that I'd want you being mean to me, Nick, not after...well, you know the kinds of things David said, when his stupid charade was all over."

"What I like and what you like don't have to be the same thing, Rosie," he says, gentle. "For me, it's...there's something about the humiliation of being told exactly what I am...it's...really hot."

"I know it doesn't have to be the same, Nick," she says, her tone flustered and a little sharp because of it. "I just...I needed to say that. Ask about that." She frowns, breathing out a long sigh. "Sorry, I know you're just trying to make me feel better about all this."

Curling close to him, she rests there in silence for a few minutes. "I know I like being told what to do, or what I'm...allowed to do, maybe? Like being given permission to touch myself, or being told how to position myself, things like that. And I know I like it when obeying you gets you to tell me how good I'm being, and I've liked it when you use your teeth a little, when you're sucking on my nipples or kissing me."

"So a little pain is okay," says Nick, tugging her hair lightly. "That's good to know."

He pulls her hair, and maybe it's just because it's in combination with their conversation, but something about it makes her breath catch. "Y-yes, Nick," she says. "I suppose a little pain would be okay."

Again, that thoughtful silence; one that has just a faint edge of heat to it now. "I wouldn't want you to leave me like this or anything, like if you were to leave the room, but if you wanted to try tying me up, or...or covering my eyes or something so it'd be a mystery what you were doing to me, we could...do that."

"That's good too," says Nick, keeping a firm hold in her hair, his other hand covering her breast over her shirt and squeezing. "What else? Use your imagination, Rosie."

"Oh, goodness, Nick," she says as he starts pawing at her, that hand still tight in her hair. She can't stop herself--doesn't want to stop herself--from arching into the touch. That twist of uncertainty in her gut is long gone now, replaced with something far more pleasant.

"Dif-different positions?" she tries, after another moment of thought. "I've liked being o-on top, that's good, but...but you could have me from behind? While I'm on my hands and knees?"

He pinches her nipple through her shirt and the thin fabric of her bra, rolling it between his fingers.

"You'd look good like that," he says. "On all fours. Doing what you're told."

The pinch is hard and unexpected; Rosie yelps, but pushes again into the touch rather than away. "I want to...to look good for you, Nick," she says, breathing hard. "However you want me to look."

The words practically fall from her mouth, the tone of them quiet and already so deferential. In a way, the most surprising thing right now is how easy it is for her to start.

"I know you do," he says. "I know you want to be a good girl for me, Rosie." Holding her head in place by her hair, keeping up the pinching touch, he leans in and takes a kiss.

She moans something that might have been a yes against his mouth, kissing him back with so much near-desperate need that she might have found it shocking under another circumstance. As it is, her heart is racing, that now-familiar heat starting to bloom between her thighs, and all she wants is more.

Nick breaks the kiss with an audible, filthy noise.

"I want you to go into the bedroom and strip down to your underwear then get up on the bed on all fours," he says. "Understood?"

There's something so immediately commanding that slips into his tone, and it makes Rosie's head spin. She stares at him for a moment, dazed, but then she's nodding, another of those frantic bobs of her head that sends a curl tumbling across one eye. "Y-yes, Nick," she says. "Anything you want."

She disentangles herself from him and from the blanket, getting up from the couch, then starts towards the bedroom on slightly shaky legs. Once there, she pulls off her sweater and undoes her skirt, peels off the tights she's been wearing now that the weather has turned chillier, before folding all three items neatly and laying them on the chair in the corner of Nick's room. Left only in her bra and panties, both a soft blue, she arranges herself on all fours atop Nick's bed, her head facing the door to the room.

A moment or two later, Nick follows, leaning against the doorframe and studying her for a moment.

"Turn around," he instructs. "Show me your ass."

Rosie whimpers softly, just once, then turns in a slow circle on the bed until she's facing away from him. She can practically feel the weight of his eyes on her; wants so badly to look back over her shoulder, to catch sight of him again, but she stays just as she is, trembling on her hands and knees.

"First, we need to go over some rules for this sort of thing. You get to set your own limits and if you tell me stop, I will, okay? We're going to use traffics for that. Red means stop, green means keep going, and amber means you just need me to slow down a little." He walks up to the foot of the bed.

"Pull your panties down."

"Red, green, a-and amber," she repeats, nodding again, this time more firmly so he'll know she understands. "I'll remember, and...and I'll stop you if I need to. When I need to."

She can hear the tread of his feet as he approaches, can practically feel each footstep as a throbbing sort of need between her own legs. "Yes, Nick," she says, shifting just enough to start pushing her panties down over the curve of her ass until they're tangled around her thighs.

Nick pauses for a moment, just enjoying the pale curve of Rosie's bare ass. He goes to a drawer in his dresses and produces a blindfold, moving to the bed and slipping out over her eyes.

"Take your bra off."

She lets out a faint gasp of surprise as the blindfold slips down over her eyes, leaving her in darkness, but the brush of Nick's fingers as he adjusts it into place is enough to settle her.

"You might have asked me to before you blindfolded me," she murmurs when he gives his next order, just the slightest hint of impertinence in her voice. Shifting up onto her knees, she reaches back and unclasps her bra, stripping it off and dropping it in what she thinks is the direction of the edge of the bed. After a pause to show off a little, arching her back and squirming for him, Rosie moves once again to all fours.

The slap he lands on her ass is little more than a tap.

"Less of that tone," he says. "Be a good girl."

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