He started at her ankles, this time, slowly drawing the feather up and down her legs. This time, he brushed his fingertips and the feather up the insides of her legs. She moaned. It was all about gentle ovals, inching ever higher, ever so slowly. He stood up and suddenly ran his fingers and feather down the sides of her ribcage. She flinched and he smacked her bottom a couple times. It was a little harder than usual, and she gasped. It hurt, this time.
Abruptly, he flipped her over. He scrabbled through his desk drawers frantically, until he found the tie he had taken off one day when he had a headache. He’d forgotten to take it home, and he whipped off the one he was wearing. He had two small chairs in front of his desk, and he wrapped a tie around each of Monica’s wrists and forced her into a chair. He tied the ties onto the chair legs, and stood behind Monica, delicately tracing circles around those huge breasts of hers. He could smell her excitement even as she was moaning, seemingly close to tears.
“Yes, yes,” he whispered. “It’s all for Georgetown, just remember that. You do what Houlihan says, and it’s all going to be okay.”
He squeezed her breasts hard, and she cried out. He swept his fingers over her ribcage and breasts, making his way down to her thighs, and soon she was shrieking with laughter. Her helplessness excited him in a way he’d never known before. Soon, he would be ready. He dragged the feather and his fingers in an excruciatingly slow trail down around her breasts, past her belly, into the v of her legs. He gently stroked the wet flesh, just brushing ever so slightly. Monica gasped again.
He’d known from experience that vigorous rubbing sometimes worked, but usually not when the stimulation came from fingers. One of his conquests had confessed that hard rubbing with fingers never, ever worked, but a vibrator on high-speed was the only way she could have an orgasm. And sometimes it took women a while to warm up. It wasn’t their fault; it was just the way they operated.
After another lingering once over of Monica’s fantastic, young, tight body, he untied her and led her over to the couch in his office. It was a full-length affair, and he put her down on it and started ripping his clothes off. He loathed condoms, but at least he had a few with him. It wouldn’t do to get this girl pregnant.
“What are you doing that for?”
“I don’t want you to get pregnant.”
“I’ve been on the pill for two years now.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah.