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me. I felt them tighten, pushing out the material of my bra.
    The skirt pooled at my feet. I reached for the clasp of my bra, afraid that if I hesitated, I wouldn’t be able to do it.
    Justin watched as I removed the bra. He watched as I slipped out of my shoes. My legs were bare, the summer weather and a good tan making stockings unnecessary. My panties glided down my thighs and then I stood before him naked.
    “Very nice,” he said. His voice was cool and distant, as if he was admiring a piece of artwork. “How do you feel?”
    “Vulnerable,” I whispered.
    “And?”
    “Excited.” The confession came at a price. I could feel myself blushing and knew he could see it on my neck and breasts.
    “Good. That’s how you should feel.”
    A long moment went by as he stared at my and I resisted the urge to fidget. Finally, when I couldn’t take his silence any longer, I said, “Now what?”
    “Impatient?”
    I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what he was asking for.
    “Do you like pain?”
    The question took me by surprise and I blurted, “No!”
    He tsked. “Get dressed.”
    “What? Why? What did I do?”
    Justin stood quickly and I took a step back. “You misled me. I thought you shared my interests.”
    “I don’t know—”
    He closed the distance between them in two long strides. My back was up against the wall, the soft brush of his shirt against my bare breasts. My breathing was ragged and harsh. I realized I sounded like a woman in arousal, not someone who was afraid.
    “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m interested in exploring pain. Namely, yours.” He took my nipples between his fingers. “If you want me to stop, simply pull away.”
    I couldn’t have moved if the security alarm had gone off.
    “If you want me to continue, ask me to hurt you.”
    His words were soft and surprisingly arousing. I lowered my head, ashamed and embarrassed by my feelings, my gaze falling to my nipples imprisoned in his fingers. The sight of my pink nipples against his tanned fingers brought a soft moan to my lips.
    “Well?”
    “Please.”
    “Please what?” His fingers just barely held my nipples. “Don’t play games with me, little one. You won’t win.”
    I raised my head until I met his gaze. “Please hurt me, Justin.”
    Almost immediately, he began to twist my nipples. If I had thought about it, I might have said the pain began even before I asked for it, as if he knew I would ask. The pain intensified, a warmth flowing from the tips of my breasts across my chest, radiating a steady, constant pressure that became more and more intense.
    I wanted to squirm, to cry out, but something in his expression made me stay still and quiet, my back pressed to the hard wall while he tortured my tender breasts. He gave my nipples a particularly vicious twist and I bit my lip until I tasted blood. It hurt, no doubt about it, but there was also a heaviness in my cunt, a corresponding tingle in my clit with every painful twist of my nipples.
    “You please me,” he whispered. He leaned close and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips that seemed incongruous with the rest of the situation. “Your threshold for pain is going to be a delightful challenge.”
    I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, yet I felt myself smiling in spite of the pain. “Thank you.”
    He tugged my nipples out from my breasts, stretching the already pained skin, then released them. The ache began as the blood flowed back into them and I moaned softly.
    “Nice.”
    Before I could respond, his hand was between my thighs, squeezing my cunt. The sensation was pleasurable at first and I pressed against his palm. Then he exerted the same pressure on my pussy that he had on my nipples and I gasped.
    “Pain with pleasure,” he murmured. “There’s nothing like it.”
    I wanted to ask him how he knew, if he’d ever felt pain during sexual arousal or if he only liked to inflict it. The words died in my throat as his fingers found my clit.