Me

What?

Ben

Imagine it's just us two and you are doing as I tell you to. What would you call me to show me you are mine?

Fuck! I sink lower into the water. There’s that tingling again. Imagining a strong guy above me. His big hand gently squeezing my throat asking me if I'm his good girl….

Me

Sir

My cheeks are burning and it’s not from the steam in the bathroom. I realise that I’ve started to stroke my nipples with my free hand. Flippin’ heck, I'm a second away from sliding my fingers lower. All over some messages with a stranger who is probably pissing himself laughing about my naïve questions.

Ben

Good girl.

Shit. In a panic I drop my mobile onto the soft bathmat next to the tub like it’s a hot potato.

I sink into the warm water, letting it envelop me as I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I reach for the loofah to distract me from the feeling his messages left in me and squeeze some body wash onto it. As I begin to lather up, my mind starts to wander.

His profile did give away that he was tall and what was visible in his picture did hint that he probably works out. In my mind’s eye, he has dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Not light blue, but dark like a sapphire.

A shiver runs down my spine as I recall his words. I'm insane to daydream anything into this given when we literally exchanged our first messages only an hour or so ago. But I can't help it. It’s been so long since a man has paid me any attention. Or at least in a positive way. Maybe I can convince him to teach me. My heart starts beating a bit faster. Yup, because I can do casual sex. That's never going to happen, Miss All or Nothing.

I rinse off the suds from my body and set the loofah aside. Leaning back against the edge of the tub, I let my hands roam over my skin, tracing lazy circles along my thighs before moving higher to cup my breasts. Ben. That's always been one of my favourite names. I picture his strong hands exploring every inch of me with a hunger that matches my own. My nipples harden at the thought as I gently pinch them between my fingers. My hand continues its journey downward, gliding over my stomach until I get to my mound. I part my legs slightly and let out a soft moan as I make contact with my already swollen clit.

I start off slow, teasing myself with light strokes before applying more pressure. The sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. I need this. As I continue to circle my clit with one hand, the other one moves lower until it finds its way inside me. I let out a gasp as I push two fingers in, my walls clenching around them.

"Sir," I whisper and that's all it takes to push me over the edge. I let out a soft moan, sapphire eyes still looking down at me. It’s been a while since these eyes invaded my thoughts.

The room slowly comes back into focus. Smutty is staring at me in a very disapproving way.

"Wow," I whisper. Maybe that idea of being a submissive does appeal to me more than I thought.

"Don't you judge me," I point at Smutty, "I’ve seen you lick your own balls, Mister."

I finish washing myself before stepping out of the bath. There are butterflies in my tummy. Nervous butterflies and excited butterflies. Fuck it, let's give this a try!

Forty-five minutes later I crawl under my duvet. That's how long I managed to draw my beauty regime out, and when I say beauty regime, I mean I put on face cream, brushed my teeth, and gave Smutty some belly rubs. Anything to not have to deal with reality and check the reply Ben sent me. What if he turned from a nice guy into a creep? I mean, the internet is full of weirdos and perverts, right?

My eyes zoom in on my phone on my nightstand. I grab it and then immediately put it back again. Oh, for fuck’s sake. It's not like he’ll jump out of it. I take a deep breath and swipe the screen.

Ben

Well, let me know if you have any other questions.

Where to start? I have so many questions! But can I really send them through to a stranger? In the end, I decide to keep the door open for more.

Me

Sorry, I had to get out of the bath. It's quite late, but I would love to continue our conversation another day?

Could I sound any more boring?

Ben

Any time!

5

Believer

Ben

My muscles are still burning from my Saturday morning run. I pushed myself a lot harder than I usually would, but when my mind is racing, my body needs to move.

Yesterday evening was tense, especially when Amelia left me hanging for nearly an hour after my Good Girl comment. I thought I’d blown it. When she finally got back in touch I was close to losing my mind.

The washing machine beeps happily at me after I press the start button. I have a housekeeper Monday to Friday who does my washing and cleans my house, but if I keep my sweaty running clothes for the whole weekend to be washed on Monday they'll stink to high heaven and I really can't do that to Gustavo.

My fingers run through my hair which is still damp from the shower as I make my way back to the smoothie I have chilling in the fridge. The small utility room on the ground floor is just off the kitchen. There's also a decent-sized living room with an adjacent office that pulls double duty as my personal library. Upstairs there are three bedrooms. Do I actually need that many? Not really. But I loved the garden when I first viewed the house. And it's right next door to my sister's place. That and the amazing view of the fields surrounding the village sold me on it. Sure, with the success our company has had, I could easily afford something even bigger. But who wants all those empty rooms?

I swallow the last of the green sludge that is sold as a “healthy smoothie” when someone rings the doorbell over and over. I can't stop a grin from forming on my lips. My favourite little munchkin is here. I place my glass in the sink and head to the front door.

"Do I know you?" I ask as seriously as I can muster.

"Uncle Ben, it's me, silly," a cheeky five-year-old grins at me. His front top two teeth are missing and his little tongue pokes through the gap.

"And who are you?" I ask again and bend down like I’m inspecting him closely.

"Robbie," he sighs exasperated.

"Oh, Robbie. I think I have a nephew called Robbie," I grin making him chuckle.

"Yup, me."

"That’s yes, not yup," my sister Fiona, who has been watching us, corrects him.

"Yes, me," Robbie repeats pointing his little fingers at himself.

"Well, if you are really my nephew I think you should give me a hug!" I haven't finished the sentence when the little squirt jumps into my arms. He has the same blond hair and green eyes as Fi. She and I couldn't be more different. Fi is short, petite and fair. Aside from towering over her, I have the broody dark look that women usually flock to like moths to a flame. But we are as similar in character as we are different in looks. We are both driven people who know what we want. In her case, that was being the best mum anyone could imagine. Her older kids, Sam and Claire, are both at university, and then five years ago Robbie joined the family as a surprise. Fi struggled at the beginning, having mentally prepared herself for an empty nest with her teenagers gone. But luckily, she has a husband who couldn't have been more supportive. Once Robbie was born everyone doted on him. And the little munchkin knows it. He has us all in his tiny palm.

"How are you, Robster?" I ask him, placing a kiss on my sister’s cheek. Robbie slides his hand in mine as we walk into the kitchen. Saturdays he and Fi usually come over for lunch whilst my brother-in-law plays football for the village team. Robbie hates football, something nobody in the family understands. We are an Aston Villa family, my dad made sure of that. We all love football. Except for the little squirt.

"I'm hungry," Robbie grins at me. Of course he is. He has the energy of ten kids and runs around all day long. But he also has the appetite of ten of these little monsters.