“Comfortable?” says Lisa. Morgen nods. “Do you want a drink?” Morgen shakes her head. The older woman watches her for a moment, and then without saying another word undoes the cord of her gown and shrugs out of it, letting it pool on the sofa around her. Beneath she is completely naked – not even underwear.
Morgen cannot help but react. She gulps a breath, sits forward in her seat, then sits back. She doesn’t know where to look. For a moment her eyes are drawn to Lisa’s body – the generous curves and the dark arrowing of hair between her legs – but the sight of her naked and sitting there feels like too much, like committing an invasion, and so she quickly looks away again. Lisa simply sits and watches her, supremely untroubled.
“Stand up,” she says, “and come here.”
Morgen does so, her body obeying before her mind has had the time to think. She stands, and moves around the small table that separates them, and there is a roaring in her ears and a tingling in her hands, and she is reaching out even as she approaches to settle her hands on the beautiful curve of Lisa’s shoulder…
…but Lisa holds up her hand. Stops her mid-step. Morgen freezes where she stands and watches as Lisa reaches gracefully over the arm of the chair to retrieve a hardback black sketchbook and a fresh set of drawing pencils. She hands them to Morgen, who takes them in numb and wanting hands.
“You’re going to draw me,” says Lisa. “Properly.”
Morgen swallows. The sketchbook is heavy in her hands. These tools feel like too much for her – the intensity of Lisa’s attention like more than she can bear. But all the same she nods, retreats to the other chair and sits. A pulse beats in her thigh, in her pussy. She opens up the sketchbook, and Lisa stands – not posing as such, but simply unfolding her body, letting Morgen see it all. All those curving lines that go together to make her.
“Could you… um…” Morgen doesn’t know the words to ask for what she wants, but she gestures with her hands. Lisa, smiling, puts one narrow foot up on the coffee table, spreading her legs and little and giving Morgen a view of the pinkish centre of her pussy – a dark, private fold of flesh between her legs, something that Morgen never honestly thought she’d see. She feels herself blush on top of the blush she’s already wearing, and busies herself retrieving a brand new pencil from the box.
At first it’s hard to look at Lisa as she draws. She has to in order to get the shapes and angles, but it feels like looking into the sun. Her eyes water. But something takes shape on the page – a mess of lines coagulating into a human form, a recognisable one. And as she draws Morgen finds her nervousness disappearing. She is making the shape of Lisa’s body on the page before her, and it is as intimate as touching her, and it is allowed. With the tip of her pencil she shades the curve of the underneath of her heavy breasts, her hips, her peasant legs. Lisa simply stands, poised, waiting for her to be done.
Morgen’s arousal is a steady, burning heat. At moments it rises and falls like a fire flickering, but it never leaves. The only sound in the room is her breath and the scratching of her pencil on the rough surface of the paper. There is nothing else. Morgen wonders if she could find satisfaction in this – just this. If Lisa were to take the drawing and send her away would it be enough to have captured her like this, touched her body all over, laid her into thick lines of graphite?
It would not, Morgen knows. The drawing takes half an hour, but when she finishes it, she doesn’t stop. Not straight away. She is afraid to stop and afraid to show Lisa the fruits of her labour and so she keeps tweaking it, adding little flicks of shading and making tiny adjustments until Lisa, sensing that the real work is done, steps down off the table, walks over to her and twitches the sketchbook from her unresisting hands.
Morgen wants to protest, but she keeps her lips pressed tight together. Now Lisa is looking at the drawing she did – the impression she has created of her, and it is unbearably intimate, like having Lisa’s hands inside her brain, rooting around, looking for nerves to tug on. Morgen risks a glance upwards.
“This is good,” says Lisa. A rush of relief passes through Morgen. Relief and pathetic, complete gratitude that she has managed to please Lisa. “Very good.” Lisa flicks the sketchbook shut and places it on the coffee table. Then she bends down and kisses Morgen full on the mouth.
This is a short extract from Discipline – a full length erotic novella about a nascent dominant / submissive relationship. The complete story is just ninety-nine cents, and by picking up a copy you’ll be supporting Lascivity, and me as a writer. Go here to buy the book.