His hands were moving again, working their way back up her legs, between her thighs, hesitating right on the verge of where she most wanted to be touched, and she was whimpering, thought she might die of desire.

“Don’t forget to ask permission,” he said.

“Yes, Sir, no, Sir, pleeeease, Sir,” she moaned, hips moving again.

She thought he laughed, but then his hands were on her, finding the sensitive nub, and she didn’t care what he was doing as long as he didn’t quit touching her. Skillfully, he stroked her and he felt herself moving closer toward that moment – that glorious over-the-top moment -closer – closer and

“Omigod, can I cum, please can I cum?”

“Yes, Sofia, you may,” he said, and she was almost there, so close, so close, so close ~~

~~ but then instead of going that last inch, she felt herself slide back a bit. Not all the way, not like she didn’t still want to, but getting a bit further away from that amazing orgasm that had been just there – just in reach. She felt panic – oh, no – he told her she could cum, he already told her, he thought she was ready – it wasn’t going to work – she wasn’t going to –

Desperately, she began a Story of O fantasy in her head, one she often told herself when she just wanted to cum fast. And that helped, the feeling began to build again, ok, ok, “…O is not to be tattooed, she’ll be branded…” and that did it, whew, yes, over the top, ahhhhh. Not exactly the earthshaking orgasm she’d been expecting. But better than nothing.

She might have moaned a bit more than she felt, might have acted just a tiny bit more shattered than she was. But that was ok. Right?

But she didn’t feel very good about it.

He took the blindfold off. She had trouble meeting his eyes.

But, he can’t tell, she assured herself. It was fine. She came, and that was all that mattered. She wasn’t going to be a disappointment to him.

She felt cold. And exposed. Not in a really good way. She moved her legs, took them off the arms of the chair, stretched them out in front of her. She had been afraid he’d stop her, but instead, he grabbed a light blanket from the bottom of the bed and covered her.

She felt warm. And more comfortable.

“Hey,” he said. Sofia looked at him then. He looked – kind. And curious. “What just happened?” he said.

“What happened?” Sofia heard her voice, too high, too tense. “Nothing, nothing happened – I mean – of course something happened, I just had a wonderful orgasm! It was – it was sooooo good.”

She thought that sounded genuine. But Lucas was just looking at her, head cocked to one side, like he was waiting for her to say more. Like he was still curious. Damn it.

“What? What do you think happened?” she said, hating the tone of her voice. “What else could have happened?”

She couldn’t hold the eye contact, looked down, away, played with the edge of the blanket. She thought, I can’t do this. I can’t. I don’t know what he wants. I’m going to ruin everything.

“Sofia.” His voice was really gentle, and she looked up. Tears in her eyes, damn it, damn it. “I don’t know what happened, but I could feel a shift in the energy between us. And I’ve been doing this a long time, I’m pretty sure that was not a “fabulous” orgasm.”

Tears spilled over as he said that, she knew that he was disappointed in her, all that effort he put into making her cum, and she knew this might happen, she should have known better than to even try. It had been just like the best BDSM story ever, until it wasn’t, and it was all her own fault.

“Baby,” he said. “Sofia. I don’t know why you’re crying or what’s wrong, but whatever it is, it’s ok.” That made her cry harder.

“No, it isn’t ok,” she said, “I’ve ruined everything, that’s not ok.”

“Listen to me,” he said. He handed her a Kleenex. “Listen to me. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong, what happened, and why you’re crying. But not this minute. Here’s what I want to do. I want to tuck you in my bed, and fix us some tea. Some kind of soothing bedtime tea.

We’ll drink it in bed, and that’s because this is a special occasion, I won’t let you have tea in bed all the time.” That made her smile a little bit.

He went on, “But we’ll just drink out tea and we don’t have to talk until you’re ready. Then you’re going to tell me what just happened and why you’re crying. The truth. Does that work?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, dabbling at her eyes with the Kleenex, then breaking down and blowing her nose. Loudly.

“Bathroom?” he said. “I’ll make tea, then it’s my turn.”

Sofia shut herself in the bathroom quickly, ignoring the mirrors. She was overwhelmed with feelings. Sadness, disappointment, shame.

“Sixty years old,” she chided herself, “and you still can’t cum when he wants you to. Still had to escape to a fantasy in your head, still had to pretend it was great and not just ok. You had this lovely chance to really have something with Lucas, and you’ve blown it.”

As she washed up, she continued fussing at herself, “And even if he didn’t care, even if he would have been fine with the whole orgasm thing, then I have to act like an idiot and cry and, oh, fuck me running, this is why I can’t have a Dom, can’t keep a Dom, or a relationship!”

Even in the middle of this self-directed rant, Sofia knew something was wrong with it. She knew there was something “off” about the things she was thinking, but she didn’t know what and couldn’t even think about it. She was just overwhelmed with feelings.

But she dried her tears and blew her nose. Reluctantly, she finished washing up and opened the bathroom door. She didn’t see Lucas as she practically raced to the bed and slid in under the covers. She propped the pillow against the headboard, but pulled the sheet up so her body was covered. She wished she were wearing pajamas.

She glanced around then and saw Lucas, who had been sitting quietly in the recliner. “Oh,” she gasped, a bit startled. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” he said, getting up, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll get the tea in a minute.:

He closed the bathroom door and Sofia tried to calm her breathing, tried to calm her mind. But she still felt like she was drowning. “Drowning in disappointment,” she thought, but then that made her smile a little bit. “Ok, that’s a little dramatic, maybe not actually drowning.” And she sighed.

Then Lucas was there, wearing dark blue pajama pants, holding a small tray with two mugs, a teapot, a selection of teas, and a plate with several cookies. He set the tray on the nightstand, pulled up a straight back chair, and settled himself beside the tray, facing her.

“As if I were sick,” she thought, avoiding eye contact. But she smiled at the tray and said, “Fancy! That looks good.” She selected the Egyptian Licorice tea bag, and Lucas poured the hot water into the mugs.

While they waited for the tea to steep, he talked about some of ceremony around serving tea, and different experiences he’d had in different cultures. Listening to him, not needing to respond other than by agreeing or asking a simple question was soothing, and Sofia began to relax a bit.

She had eaten a cookie and was sipping her tea when Lucas said, “Sofia, where are you on the submissive scale right now? From 0 – 10, how submissive are you feeling right now?”

Sofia did a quick internal check – submissive? Fuck she was hardly feeling submissive at all!

“Um,” she squirmed a bit, “Not – well, maybe a two. Or a three.” She felt silly, she could still feel a bit of soreness from the spanking earlier, why did she not feel submissive? Clearly, she just wasn’t any good at this. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

But Lucas just looked curious. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, then added, “No, never mind, that’s a pointless question.” Sofia felt like she’d just been given a respite.

Lucas held out one hand, palm up, and without a thought, Sofia laid her hand on his. His hand enveloped hers, and she felt herself settling. He set his mug down and traced the lines on her palm.

Sofia took a deep breath. Yes. It was as if a weight were being lifted from her. Tentatively, she made eye contact with Lucas and smiled.