" We got up, still talking, and began to dance again.
“I want to try something,” he said.
“Okay, what?”
“Twist your arms behind your back.”
“Hmm, okay … Like this?”
“Yes. And now I’ll hold you like that.”
I licked my lips and gave him the look, and I said, “Okay.”
“If you want me to stop, tell me.”
“Okay. I’ll bite you if I don’t like it. If I’m okay, you get a kiss.”
He smiled and clasped my wrists tight, pinioning my arms behind my back. The pressure twisted my shoulders back, just a bit, and thrust my breasts forward. We moved, and I felt my breasts pressing through the silk T-shirt against his chest. I kissed him.
“I like it,” I said. “I like it when you hold me, when you have me … in your power.”
He kissed me. It was a rapid, sudden, ravishing kiss. He let go of my wrists, and I flung my arms around him. We twirled around. He lifted me up. We plunged back down onto the divan. I was astraddle him, on my knees, looking down on him, breathless.
“Lift it off,” he said.
“You lift it off,” I said. I bowed, and he pulled the silk T-shirt over my head, leaving it halfway off for just a minute, and masking my face. He kissed me on the forehead through the silk. His lips pressed on my lips, and I hungrily tried to kiss, but I was a prisoner of the silk, and then, slowly, he pulled the T-shirt off my head, and my lips were free, and our lips met, and we kissed, a deep, free warm, liquid kiss. I was melting into him.
His hands went up and down my back, sweeping, exploring, pressing, and caressing. He kissed my breasts, slowly, licking and biting each nipple. "

― , The Shaming of Gwendoline C