The Tutor, Part 53

I was immediately torn.

Yes, Annabelle and I had done our first tutoring session while seated on the nearby sofa. However, the suggestive way she was offering it this time around had far less innocent implications.

Going quiet for a moment, I tried to sort out the impossible decision before me. I was still managing to hold onto the hope that I could somehow salvage all of this. I was exhausted from chores, thoroughly demeaned by both Annabelle and Trixie, and currently caught up in yet another confusingly intimate scene with the girl I told myself again and again had been a one time thing. But if we could just get back to the tutoring session I had come here for, maybe I could find my bearings and get everything back on track.

That’s what ended up leading to my choice. “Okay,” I murmured against her lips. Between standing in our current position and shifting things over to the sofa, the latter was the only one where I had the slightest chance to tap the brakes and convince her to take a study break. Of course, there was the risk that going this way might take us in a more horizontal direction if I wasn’t careful. Not just in regards to Annabelle’s effortless manipulations and subtle physical maneuvers, but also my own reluctant desires.

“Okay,” she echoed, “Just help me with my dress first.”

Wait, what? The whole point of resisting Annabelle’s borderline irresistible advances was to cool things down between us. Stripping her definitely wouldn’t help that cause, and I had also succeeded in putting my foot down about that one thing thus far. In retrospect, it was a ridiculous hill to fight on, when we had been teasing each other with almost-kisses and I was standing there in just a bra and thong. At the same time, I knew that Annabelle being half dressed to match me would create a degree of underlying expectations and temptation, even if we did fully pause whatever this was to start working on mathematics.

Sensing my hesitation, or maybe just capitalizing on my inability to come up with a response right away, Annabelle pointed out, “You were fine tutoring me in my underwear before, weren’t you?” She knew full well that her version of ‘fine’ was different from mine. I had just been caught off guard and too nervous to make a scene at the time, especially when she had smoothly transitioned from her yoga back to our session without getting dressed in between the two.

The problem was, her logic was as effective as ever. And I wasn’t the best with words, even under normal circumstances. Trying to explain how I hadn’t been the most comfortable a couple days ago would no doubt lead into some iteration of, ‘Then why didn’t you say anything?’ And telling her that this wasn’t the same might require me to elaborate on why it wasn’t the same.

While I was totally guessing and broadly projecting, I was almost certain Annabelle would respond with something that would make me flush and set me up for failure. If not in the way I was thinking, then with something else that was equally difficult to answer when put on the spot.

Speaking of being put on the spot, Annabelle said, “Weren’t you, Mere?”

She wasn’t being rhetorical??

I gave a small shake of my head. “I was fine,” I awkwardly muttered. It was the definition of a half-truth, although when was the word ‘fine’ not a half-truth?

“Whatever,” she replied, “Hmm, well, if you aren’t brave enough to help with my dress, then maybe we should . . . ” Meeting my lips for what I assumed would be yet another teasing nudge, she instead parted her lips to fit together with mine. Surprising me despite how slow and gentle her approach was, Annabelle kissed me. Like, actually kissed me.

In a way, I had won. Instead of being baited into initiating myself, the red haired temptress was the one who ultimately caved after what was easily the longest stretch of teasing and build-up of my life.

I didn’t realize until her lips softly locked with mine that I was ready to kiss her back. It was almost like a tame form of edging that had finally reached its conclusion. All those brushes and nudges, paired with how we were holding each other and as close to pressing our bodies together as we had been close to kissing, had left me quite primed for what would have happened forever ago with any other partner. I practically melted into the kiss, instinctively gripping her hips a little more tightly as my lips gently and naturally locked with hers.

That was the issue with Annabelle, although it was also a feature depending on one’s perspective. Every kiss with her was an entirely new experience, similar to how she managed to always keep me guessing throughout all of our less sensual encounters as well. I might have prepared myself for her to pounce, like the first time she had unexpectedly made out with me. I had learned how to keep myself from falling for her tricks that led to me making the first move. And yet, I was not prepared in the slightest to deal with something like this.

The moment was so soft and tender, simultaneously threatening to end at any second while also promising so much more at the same time. I temporarily forgot everything as I dealt with the alluring sensations of Annabelle briefly exhaling onto my lips before meeting me for yet another lingering kiss. She slowly and smoothly pulled me in by my lower back at the same time, while casually arching into me until our chests were lightly pressed together. Then, when I didn’t flinch or react to that, she traced her fingertips up my bare back until she was able to start fiddling with my bra band.

I was definitely too distracted and caught up in the moment to notice that she was basically testing how far she could take things before I cracked.

My bra ended up being the limit in terms of when my senses decided to kick back in. Breaking off the kiss just enough to whisper against her lips as I felt my cheeks flush at the realization that I was about to be stripped even further by the eighteen year old girl I was apparently still interested in kissing, I said, “Annabelle, wait. We said, umm- Tutoring. The sofa?”

She responded by sharply biting my lower lip. “It’s ‘Ms. Annabelle,’ remember? You’re my obedient pet.”

An embarrassing squeak formed in the back of my throat from the unexpected pain, but I was still too deep in the girl’s softness and warmth for her pointed nip to fully pull me out of it. Instead, I was in that same difficult limbo of trying to maintain some semblance of modesty and professionalism while also low key wanting more of what Annabelle was offering. “Ms. Annabelle,” I quietly corrected myself, “Not my bra. Please.” I cringed a bit at the bluntness, but I didn’t know what else to say when she was seconds away from loosening my upper undergarment for the second day in a row in her private living room.

I half expected Annabelle to ignore me. She listened, however, and allowed the band to settle back into place on my bare skin. “How about we match instead?” she casually suggested. Punctuating the concept with a small peck, she shifted her head to the side and brushed her lips against my cheek several times on the way to my ear. Once she was there, she gave my shell a light nibble before whispering, “Strip me, Mere.”

Did she know that I enjoyed ear kisses and whispers, or was it just a lucky guess? I wasn’t used to it being done with a feminine voice, but it was just as effective as when the occasional guy had teased that spot just right. It was enough to send tingles down my spine, and I ended up letting out a breathy sigh before I could stop myself. I had to imagine Annabelle heard it, as I was fairly near her own ear due to how my head was naturally tilted as she toyed with mine.

Biting my lip, I considered what she was telling me to do. Despite how my body was winning more often than not against my mind, I was still aware of how she was still pushing the exact same agenda. She could have easily taken off the dress herself at this point, just like she could have kissed me forever ago, but instead Annabelle decided to make a game of it. Only now, she was framing it like my options were to either strip her or to lose my bra. While she hadn’t outright said it, that’s what it felt like she was hinting towards. And, of course, there was the whole obedience factor. She had tested my willingness to obey earlier by telling me to strip. It wasn’t lost on me that her whispered demand was nearly identical to the one she had given me in the dining room.

If I didn’t do as I was told, would I be all the way back to square one? Was I obeying because I was collared, or because it felt like that’s what I needed to do to get out of the collar? There was too much overlap between too many things for me to keep it all straight. Especially when I was focused on Annabelle’s breath in my ear and the noticeable warmth I was starting to feel between my thighs. I hadn’t even been paying attention to the fact that I was technically being edged down there as well, and probably for some time now. Not through touch, but simply because the light stimulation and nonstop teasing everywhere else had been adding up while I hadn’t been paying attention.

I still didn’t want to give Annabelle the satisfaction. It had felt so good to hold out until she kissed me herself, not to mention all the professional reasons I was trying to keep on my mind while constantly doing pretty much everything but tutoring her. Now that she had reminded me about my role, however, there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room.

All I could do was be brave. Nodding my head, I whispered, “Yes, Ms. Annabelle.”