Nearly Forbidden: Swim Fan Series, Book One

Chapter One-3

“I wouldn’t make a habit of it, slave, but perhaps in just this one instance, your Master would permit it,” he replied, smiling a crooked, wry smile down at her, his d**k still semi-rigid inside her cunt.

Peter pulled out and stood next to the bed. “Clean me up with your mouth, slave,” he commanded. Jacki sat up and took him in her mouth. His semen tasted wonderful mixed with her juices.

“Yum,” she cooed.

Stepping back, Peter said, “Very nice, slave.” Extending his hand to her, he stated, “It’s almost supper time, and I think we have both worked up an appetite. Shall I whip something up for us?”

Taking his hand and stepping off the bed and moving close to him, Jacki said, “I would love that.”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not going to be anything fancy. I’ll see what I’ve got. But I know I have a couple of nice bottles of Vouvray chilled.”

The pair walked into the kitchen. “First things first,” Peter said, as he fetched two wine glasses from the rack. Going to the refrigerator, he retrieved a bottle of wine. He opened it and poured two glasses and put the bottle in a marble wine sleeve on the counter. Crossing to Jacki, he pressed the cold glass in his left hand against her right n****e. She flinched and shivered, then giggled as she took it.

Taking a sip, she said, “This is yummy. What did you say it was?”

“Vouvray. It comes from the Loire Valley in France. It’s made with Chenin blanc grapes,” he replied taking a drink himself. “Now let’s see what I have to eat.” He walked back to the refrigerator, opened the door, and peered in. Turning his head toward Jacki, he said, “It’s not looking too good. We could just order Chinese.”

“That would be fine,” she responded.

“No, wait. I’ve got it. I’ll make a frittata.”

“Sounds wonderful. Can I help?”

“Absolutely. And the good thing is that it won’t require either of us to put on an apron,” he declared, highlighting the fact that they were both still naked.

Setting down his glass, Peter pulled two cutting boards from the cupboard and placed them on the granite countertop. He grabbed a sharpening steel out of a drawer, pulled two knives out of a butcher block labeled Sabatier, and sharpened each in turn. Placing one on each cutting board, he said, “You work there,” pointing to the farther board. “You can prep the vegetables. I’ll do the eggs and meat.” Going to the fridge again, he gathered everything up in his arms. “Here, chop the onion, the mushrooms, and the tomato. Cut the Chinese chives into about three-quarter inch pieces.” Grabbing a head of garlic from a dish on the counter, he continued, “As I recall from our meal at Amalfi, you aren’t averse to garlic,” putting it on her board.

“It’s not very conducive to romance,” Jacki protested weakly.

“Au contraire, ma Cherie! All the way back to ancient Rome, garlic has been considered an aphrodisiac. It contains allicin, which increases blood flow—which is crucial to both parties in s****l congress. Besides, if we both have it, what does it matter? I don’t remember it inhibiting our make-out session after that dinner at Amalfi,” he said, smiling that sexy smile of his. “Mince two cloves.”

“Yes…, Master,” she said, returning his smile.

As Jacki cut, Peter chopped some bacon. Then he cracked four eggs into a bowl, added some garlic powder, and ground some pepper in. As he picked up a jar of salt, he said, “You probably remember that I’m a Francophile.”

“French wine, French knives, addressing me in French. I do remember.”

“I got my Ph.D. from Sciences Po in Paris. I loved living there, even on a graduate student’s budget. I didn’t have a lot of spare time, but I tried to always spend some portion of the day hanging out in a café, watching the people go by, usually Café de Flore or Les Deux Magots. I made friends with the patrons of neighborhood restaurants that I liked, and they taught me how to cook.” Showing Jacki the jar, he said, “This is Muoi Bien, Vietnamese sea salt.”

“You can’t get French salt?” Jacki asked, not understanding the connection.

“Of course, you can. You can get perfectly wonderful sea salt from the Île de Ré, but to me the best in the world comes from Vietnam. I think the French taught them how to be sauniers during their occupation, and the Vietnamese adapted to it, the same way they assimilated baguettes, sandwiches, coffee, and pot au feu and made them distinctly Asian. Did you ever see the movie Julie and Julia?”

“Yeah, I streamed it one time. It was cute.”

“If you remember, Julia Child says, ‘French people get to eat French food every day!’” he said, mimicking the cookbook author’s trademark falsetto.

Jacki stop her paring and chuckled. “Yes, I remember.”

“I love French food. But I discovered Vietnamese food when I lived in Paris. Since then, I’ve been to Vietnam half a dozen times. Vietnamese food is the most elegant cuisine in the world because it insists that every taste be in perfect balance. A former partner of mine said, this time using his normal pitch, ‘Vietnamese people get to eat Vietnamese food every day.’”

“And yet, you are cooking Italian,” Jacki said. “A little ironic, isn’t it.”

Peter sprinkled a liberal amount of the salt into the bowl. “Don’t try and change the subject, and don’t be insolent, slave,” he said with mock seriousness. He poured a splash of milk into the bowl. Then he grabbed a whisk and began to whip the eggs. “Are the vegetables ready?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied with a little curtsy. “And that was the longest, most pedantic explanation for the use of a particular salt I have ever heard.”

Peter smiled slightly. “I still don’t know how submissive you actually are, slave. You seem to have a feisty and prideful streak in you that I will have to try to drill out of you, if I can.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be enjoyable?”

“Yes, it is, but it is also serious. You are supposed to get pleasure from your surrender, and it can be fun, but it is not funny.”

The smile left Jacki’s lips. “The vegetables are ready,” she said flatly. “Maybe this isn’t right for me,” she thought. Peter thought exactly the same thing at the same instant.

Peter went to her and hooked his arm around her waist. He gave her a soft kiss and then locked his eyes on hers. “I told you that there are many more topics we need to discuss. If you want to leave now, I’d understand.”

“No,” she said. “I’d like to stay, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I can’t either—if that affects what you are going to say to Richard.”

Jacki lower her eyes and shook her head.

Peter drew the wine bottle out of the sleeve. Deliberately conjuring up cheerfulness, he said, “Let me refill our glasses!” As he poured, he continued, “Let me get to this frittata. Thank you for preparing the vegetables.” He grabbed a deep cast iron skillet from the cabinet and threw in the bacon, putting it on the stove and stirring it around. When it started to cook through, he repeated the process with the vegetables. Turning down the heat, he swirled in the eggs. “There you go. In six minutes we’ll have our supper.”

Rather than set up the dining room, Peter suggested they eat at the kitchen table. As they sat down, he refilled their wineglasses again. “It’s not much, but it will keep body and soul together.”

“I think it’s delicious,” Jacki said, smiling for the first time since Peter had chastised her.

“You’re beautiful when you smile, Jacki,” he said, stroking he cheek. The smile broadened. “You said that when I talked about seeing about our s****l compatibility, you didn’t think of D/s. What did you think?”

“I thought you just wanted to screw me and see if I was any good.”

Peter grinned. “Well, there was that,” he said, reaching out and fondling her breast. The foul mood banished, he leaned in and kissed her. “Can you stay tonight?”

Jacki giggled. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“I think we can find one.”

“Of course, I’ll stay, Peter.

“When you leave tomorrow, I’m going to send some things home with you—homework, if you will, my pretty pupil. It will include three books. One is SM 101: A Realistic Introduction. It’s by Jay Wiseman, and he knows whereof he speaks. Don’t panic if what you read sounds too extreme. As I said, I’m primarily interested in the bondage and discipline aspects of b**m. Another is Conquer Me: Girl-to-Girl Wisdom about Fulfilling Your Submissive Desires by Kacie Cunningham. I think you’ll find it more useful. She knows what she’s talking about, too. Wiseman wrote the foreword. Finally, there is Confessions of a Bad Submissive by Summer Sterling. It’s a memoir, and I think you can relate to her. If Sterling can be a submissive, I am sure you can be, too. Read them and see if what’s described is something you’d like.

“If it is, I’ll want you here as often as possible. I do not, however, want to interfere with your work. It’s important to me that you become Doctor slave.”

Jacki laughed out loud.

Peter continued, “Before we go on, there are a few things that we do need to discuss, that I need to say. First, D/s relationships must operate on trust. You must trust me completely. Do you?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Why? We hardly know each other really?”

“I guess because I believe integrity in one sphere of your life—the professional—must also be reflected in other aspects,” Jacki answered.

“I will do everything I can, Jacki, to earn your trust and then live up to your faith in me. You must know that you will always be completely safe. I will never let any harm come to you. I’m going to give you a safe word. Whenever you use it, whatever is happening will stop immediately.”

“Why do I need a ‘safe word’? Why can’t I just say ‘stop’?”

“Because there are certain scenarios, roleplay for instance, where you might want to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ as part of the scene, but it’s just acting. Play r**e would be an example.”

“Play r**e?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing I’m really into. Some like it, though. It was just an example. When you say your safe word, though, that communicates that some line is being crossed. It might be physical, mental, or ethical. Use the word, and it calls a definitive and unmistakable halt.”

“So what’s my word, Master?” Jacki asked, almost coquettishly.

“Wisconsin,” Peter said.

“Wisconsin?” she asked, laughing out loud.

“It has to be a word that won’t come up during a scene or s*x,” Peter replied, smiling that sexy smile that made Jacki so wet. “You must admit, slave, that it is extremely unlikely that either of us will be saying ‘Wisconsin’ no matter what we’re doing.”

Jacki had to acknowledge that he was right.

“The second thing is that you will read about setting your limits to our interaction. There are ‘hard limits’ and ‘soft limits.’ Hard limits are the things you will not do under any circumstances. s*x with minors is a good example. Soft limits are things that you may never have done, or have difficulty doing, or don’t like but that you are willing to try or can be talked into. Hand-free fellatio is often on such lists, although you seem to have passed that test this afternoon.”

“I’m a good little cocksucker, Master,” she said beaming.

“Yes, you are slave,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek again. “Once we establish your limits, your hard limits will be respected absolutely. Your soft limits will be respected but constantly tested and pushed.”

“Why?” Jacki asked.

“To perfect you in your submission and to deepen your trust in me. I will never demand more of you than you are capable of” was the response.

Jacki wiggled in her chair again and ran her hand across the back of her neck.

“You just got wet again, didn’t you, slave?” Peter asked.

Jacki was, after all, a highly intelligent person. She realized this time that shifting uncomfortably during s*x talk and—possibly—the neck thing were her tells. “Yes, Master,” she said, smiling subtly.

“We’ll do something about that in a few minutes, slave. There are just a couple more things. I told you that you had a discernment process to go through about whether this is something you crave. The books are part of that. I’ll also give you a few websites to check out. You will need to be brutally honest with yourself or it won’t do any good, and it won’t work between us even if we both want it to,” Peter said tenderly.

“I understand, Master,” Jacki replied softly.

“For that reason,” Peter continued, “after you leave tomorrow, I do not want us to see each other for two weeks.

“Primarily because you have things to decide, and I would just be a distraction and confuse you when you need clarity. Related to that, you have your homework to do. When you come back, I need to be sure it is because you want to.”