I had to close my eyes to touch myself. I’d never done it in front of my boyfriend. I’d never done it in front of anyone. I’d never had my pussy bare like this, nothing hidden, every part exposed.

It had taken quite the mental adjustment to accept that he didn’t hate how I looked. He had been stood staring at me when I first touched myself and he hadn’t stopped since.

I felt so embarrassed to be doing it that the only way I could cope was to close my eyes and pretend I was alone.

It wasn’t too difficult to do it then. I was already turned on after the way he’d shaved me, his hands moving the soft folds of my skin one way and then the other, his hot breath making me tingle.

By the time he told me to get up, my legs were weak, my mind confused. I felt lost and alone, the society I knew and all the rules of civilisation didn’t seem to exist here. Without them, I was adrift in a sea of emptiness, my mind seeking for anything, like I was groping in the dark until I found somewhere solid to anchor myself to.

It was him. I scurried after him from the room, the only solid thing in the house, the only real thing. His rules were madness but they were real. He could be relied on, that was what my mind had decided.

He brought me into a bedroom more palatial than any I’d ever known. It was as big as the bathroom, with a four poster bed against the far wall. Two huge windows let in the light from outside, illuminating tapestries that lined the room. The carpet was deep red, the blankets on the bed a lighter hue. Above us, a chandelier hung, perfectly still, the beams of sun hitting and bouncing off it, sending twinkling spots of white onto the wall next to me.

I didn’t even notice the stirrups on the chair until he told me to sit, I was too busy trying to grasp the enormity of the space I was in, the sheer wealth and history on display.

I had already gotten used to being naked in front of him, mad as that may sound. When all the rules crumble away, you seek out normality, your brain adjusting to stop you cracking completely. I told myself it was normal to be naked, at a subconscious level.

It resulted in the shame of my nudity fading, only to return in spades when he told me to sit and then to touch myself.

I had been able to ignore my throbbing clit until he came so close to touching it before stopping. I felt ashamed of his tone when he told me how wet I was. It was true but I didn’t want it to be true.

I was shocked by just how wet I was, my hand gliding through it, easing the ache in my clit as I circled it slowly. Even with my eyes closed, I was thinking of him, wanting to impress him, to please him.

Part of my reasoning came from the bathroom. He’d been so gentle when he’d shaved me, so different to his belligerent manner when he’d been screaming at me to strip. It was like when he’d helped me from the car, his hand gentle on mine. Something told me that was the real him, the gentle touch, the softness of manner.

Something had happened to crush that part of him, though I couldn’t begin to imagine what. Maybe that was what happened when you built up an empire, you lost your softness. But it was still there, flaring up beneath the furious manner that he kept returning to.

I kept thinking about him as I played with my clit. When I half opened my eyes, I saw him give me a tiny nod, as if telling me that what I was doing was acceptable. Even that small note of approval warmed me inside, he was already making me need his approval.

He’d been right, of course, not that I would ever have had admitted it to him. I did want his permission to be a slut. I could never have climbed onto that chair and spread my legs so wantonly of my own volition, the idea was too far from what I was capable of doing. I was too shy to ever offer to do such a thing. It was hard enough to believe he wanted to watch.

I was sinking into the moment, my hand continuing to tease, my breathing growing shallow, when he suddenly interrupted, bringing me back to the present. “Stop,” he said.

I took a second too long and he slapped my hand away. “You do as you’re told without hesitation,” he said, kneeling down between my legs, exhaling onto my pussy, the sensation strong enough to make my toes curl and my fingers clench into fists as he paused to speak again. “Spread your lips apart.”

I did as he asked, my fingers trembling as he examined me closely. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked, looking down at his serious face.

This,” he replied, his fingers sliding up my thighs, his touch more gentle than I thought possible. Then with his hot breath continuing to hit my pussy, my body tensed up, knowing what was coming.

But it didn’t. He moved his fingers up over the spot he’d just shaved. “Much better,” he said, sliding them down again, this time straight over my throbbing clit.

I felt as if wetness was pouring out of me, I was so turned on. How was this happening? I’d never felt like this in my life, so tense, so wired, like every nerve in my body was awake for the first time. Then he slid a finger into me.