Rachel stood before him, naked. Her hands were clasped at her midriff, where he had instructed her to put them. She wondered idly why he hadn’t just told her to put her hands behind her head, the way they did in the BDSM stories. She supposed it might be because John, although he clearly understood a very great deal about BDSM, wasn’t into doing things the same way other kinksters did them.“Rachel,” he said, “you’re very lovely, whether in your clothes or out of them.”Rachel breathed hard, and she felt her eyes widen. She had no idea how to respond. Did she feel lovely? Well, now that John had called her that, she supposed she did, because he had said so. She looked down at her hands, thankful suddenly that she couldn’t see past them—see the immodest little tuft of her pubic hair. Would John take it from her? She felt her face grow warm at the thought, and felt the warmth go elsewhere, further down.Rachel’s breasts were big, with big brown nipples. Too big? Often she wished for little ones, like Sally’s—but John said she was lovely, so he must like her breasts.
