More

by Rachel De Lune

  “Isabel, you have been a naughty girl. You made yourself come when I expressly forbade you from doing so.”

  Oh, shit.

  He lets go of my hand and walks around behind me, leaving me to stand on my own.

  “Don’t look around at me. Keep looking out of the window at all those people in the city below. I am going to turn off the lights. At this height, you will be able to see them. As you are in the darkness, they won’t be able to see you.”

  I’m plunged into darkness with only the soft gleam of the window offering any light. My pulse races at the uncertainty around the impending punishment.

  “Isabel, strip naked for them.”

  “What?” I can’t help my shocked voice and automatically start to turn around, but catch myself at the last moment.

  “You heard. Stand there at the window and strip off all your clothes for all those people in the light below. Show them what a naughty, sexy, beautiful woman you are. Not for me, Isabel. I’ll sit behind and watch you strip, but you are not to look at me at all.”

  I want to turn my head around to see his gaze, try to understand his tone, but know that I shouldn’t.

  “Isabel, if you turn and look at me, I promise you I’ll put you over my knee and spank you so hard that you will be reminded of it every time you sit down tomorrow.”

  He answers my thoughts again. Put me over your knee and spank me? Yes, please. Although as I think about it, I’m not sure how hard he would go. Above everything, the swarm of thoughts and images in my mind makes me wet. This situation, although scary, makes me feel wanton and provocative. I can almost feel my desire dribble down my thighs at his words and am instantly reminded that he has my knickers from earlier. Breathe, Izzy. They can’t see you, and you can do this.

  My hands move to my top, cautiously picking it up and pulling it over my head. Shit, shit, shit. I’m really going to be standing here in my bra in front of an open window!

  Thank goodness for my recent lingerie shopping trip. Okay, what next? I weigh my options and start to panic. Expose my breasts or expose… Shit! Expose my naked pussy. I’m not sure I can do this. He is really testing my boundaries. But I want to. I want to be daring. I want punishment. I want danger. I want excitement. I can do this. Do what he says. Strip for them. Show them what a good girl I can be.

  After my mini pep talk, I reach behind me and unfasten the clasp on my bra. Refusing to give in to my insecurities, I toss it to the side. I run my hands to the small of my back, reach for the zip at the back of my skirt and slide it down. As my hands slide around my waistband to pull it down, I become acutely aware of my nakedness underneath. It makes me feel sexy, feeling my skin with the tips of my fingers. It sparks a warm comfort through my blood. Here goes.

  I pull my skirt down and step out of it, revealing myself to the window.

  “Completely naked, Isabel.”

  Oh no… The shoes. My reluctance is clear as I slowly step out of my shoes and roll down the thigh highs. The ability to do this with any finesse or seductive quality has been stripped from me with the rest of my clothes. I’m now utterly naked. It is strange that the lack of shoes is the biggest blow to me. Standing in bare feet makes me feel small and vulnerable, and I realise that I have closed my eyes.

  “Admire the view, Isabel.”

  I guess he may be able to see a small reflection of me in the glass and know that my eyes are closed. I force them open to gaze out at the view below. The lights of cars move like a model train set on the streets below. Lights are on in buildings and the city gives off a glow.

  “Seeing as you are so good at it, make yourself come for them, Isabel.”

  Fuck, no. Please, that’s too much.

  “Isabel, take your finger and slide it onto your clit.”

  His words both dismay and soothe me. I follow his instruction, focused on his commands. I’m unable to do anything other than obey.

  So I slide my finger down between my legs. I am soaking. My whole sex is wet. My mind has been struggling with the position I am in, but my body? My body betrays me, and it is clearly showing how much I want this. Or how much this is what my body needs.

  The touch—my touch—on my clit feels amazing, and as I stroke, everything else fades away and I submerge myself in the desire of my body.

  “Good girl. Now open your eyes and enjoy the view, the sheer naughtiness of what you’re doing.”

  I gaze out at the city below and stroke longer, amazed that even with this vulnerability the sensation is amazing. My finger glides over my clit and my hand moves faster. I pant and my mind focuses on the frustrations that have consumed my body over the last few days.

  Faint noises distract me for a moment and draw me from my observation of the people below. I can’t look around but low, reverberating breaths tell me Seb is as excited by this as I am and that he’s enjoying the show.

  I know that this is my punishment—to test my comfort zone, and see if I can truly follow instructions. But having Seb enjoy my submission gives me the inner courage to do as I’m told. I can listen to my body and the desires that I have and respond to them in a way that I’d never previously considered. It’s exhilarating and I’m spurred on even more by my impending orgasm. The danger is an aphrodisiac and knowing that Seb watches my arousal, is himself turned on by my actions, holds the key to why I’m now racing to come.

  “Come for them, Isabel.”

  His words are the final encouragement I need. I open my eyes wide and my orgasm rips through my body. I press tightly on my clit as my body pulsates around my hand. My finger is the only thing keeping me standing and stopping me from collapsing under the weight of the pleasure coursing through me. I’m so caught up with my body’s feelings that I don’t hear Seb until he’s pressing at me from behind. His deep dominant voice growls in my ear.

  “Lean forward, place the palms of your hands on the glass and spread your legs wide apart.” I do as I am told, and he helps to bend my torso. My hands above my head press against the cool glass, but my bum is on clear display for him and with my legs this wide he can probably see my throbbing pussy.

  He’s naked and I hear the tear of the foil condom packet before his hot skin covers mine. His hard cock nuzzles the entrance to my pussy, and the next second he slides inside me.

  “You naughty girl. You’re about to get fucked for everyone to see. They will see me fucking you from behind, filling your dripping pussy with my cock. God, you’re wet. You are a naughty girl, Isabel. What are you?”

  “I’m naughty,” I moan, lost in his words.

  “And you feel so damn good.”

  I try to process what is happening, but the feelings and emotions swamp any rational thought. I simply surrender. I watch in the reflection as Seb fucks me and it only adds to the fire that has ravaged me. All I can do is feel the assault on my body, my mind, and my soul.

  The glass offers no form of concealment—there’s nowhere to hide. I’m as open and vulnerable as I have ever been. Seb’s punishment, his choice of task, has left me raw. I gaze away from this pornographic sight and look directly out of the window to the lights of the city.

  Condensation builds on the window directly in front of me and my hands slip down the glass a few inches, emitting a squeak and leaving an erotic trail of finger marks down the pane. How can something so obscene feel so damn good?

  My first orgasm isn’t even going to register against the one that Seb will force from my body. Long, hard strokes send sparks of pleasure from my clit. They radiate out in a wave that reaches my fingertips. He increases his rhythm and I have to focus to keep my hands against the glass. My arms burn. My pussy aches. My throat is arid from my ceaseless moans of pleasure. Then he starts to tense, to plunge into me harder. His fingers grip my hips like a vice and he comes. With his last thrust, I, too, burst into another climax from deep inside. He slowly circles his hips into me, making sure I’ve completely come apart, and pulls me against him tighter so I can feel the sweat against our s
kin.

  He sweeps his arms around my waist and lifts me up off the floor. He picks me up and carries me the short distance to the bed. I collapse in an orgasmic mess in his arms. Sated and exhausted, he positions me on the bed and presses a wall switch. Floor-to-ceiling curtains glide closed on the stage of my punishment.

  Snuggling up, he spoons behind me and pulls the sheets over us. I float in the ecstasy of all the sensations I have experienced. I have no idea how long we lie there. Time could have stood still for all I care. He slowly pulls away and lifts himself off the bed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Wonderful,” I mutter, still in something of a dream state.

  “Izzy, I fucked you really hard in what was, in effect, a stress position. Your muscles will ache badly in the morning unless I deal with them now. Roll over onto your front, baby.” His words are soft and filled with comfort. Although I register the tone, I’m not sure what he’s talking about so I flop over on the bed as he asks. Warm, smooth hands glide over my back as he rubs my skin with oil. Fingers and hands gently knead my shoulders, lifting the tension away with his magic. He certainly is a man of many talents.

  I must have drifted off into slumber, as Seb wakes me with soft kisses on my cheek and down my neck.

  “It’s time to wake and re-join reality, Izzy.”

  No, no, no, no! I want to stay in this room forever. I pull myself to sitting on the side of the bed. I notice my clothes, neatly folded and arranged on the chair to the side. My knickers are on top. It’s obviously time to get dressed and catch my train. On the table to the side is a light snack of a Caesar salad and a long glass of freshly squeezed juice, which I devour. Good, dirty sex seems to give me an appetite.

  When I’m dressed and finished with the supper, Seb comes over to me and offers his hand to help me stand. He presses the button to open the curtains and we look out at the view once more. His body presses against my back, the stubble on his jaw tickling my cheek.

  “Nice memories, Isabel?”

  “Oh yes. Very, very nice.”

  He brings his right hand around and gives me one sharp slap on the side of my bottom. And in one simple movement, he sets my sated body on fire again. Will I ever get enough?

  “You’re a brilliantly naughty submissive, and I love it.”

  “I love it, too. Thank you.” Thank you for everything. For pushing my boundaries, for encouraging me to do those things an hour or so ago, for lifting the lid on the box in which I had put all these desires and then rummaging around the bottom of it to find even more hidden beneath. Yes. Thank you, Sebastian! I battle with myself, wanting to share all of my emotions and feelings with him. Will he understand how much he means to me after such a short time? Will he believe me considering I’m still married?

  He takes my hand and steers me toward the door of the room. I still feel unsteady on my feet. Despite the good massage, I understand what he meant about achy muscles. We step silently into the lift and exchange inane grins all the way back down to the ground floor. Practically laughing, we step out into the lobby of the hotel.

  I can’t remember the last time I laughed this effortlessly or had this much fun during sex. It’s so refreshing to be able to share it with him and see his lighter side as well. We collect my coat and bags, and he escorts me to a taxi waiting outside in the cold air.

  “Goodnight, Izzy, and good luck tomorrow.” He kisses me formally on the cheek as I depart.

  I turn and look up at the building, to the glass windows of the rooms high above, and smile. I’m now disappearing back into the city—the city which I stripped for, came for, and was fucked in front of. I dash into the back of the cab before my blush becomes too obvious.

  Thinking of myself as a high-class escort had never featured in my fantasies before tonight. But as I am driven through the streets back to the station, that is what I feel like. Seb’s escort, visiting him in hotel rooms and swanky apartments. Although that makes me feel ridiculously sexy—a fantasy I didn’t realise I had—it also sours my stomach. Maybe to him I am just his latest plaything, a challenge, and a free one at that. Am I using him or is he using me? This started by simply wanting to explore some what-ifs and to see whether what was in my head was the missing piece to my happiness. The sex and the submission are great. But the relationship between us—the connection that has been built on trust—has grown in my heart. I want more from our relationship. I want it to continue. I need it to. But does he?

  I enjoyed Manchester, Izzy. But I haven’t finished with your punishment. S

  Punishment? For what? I thought we already did that. Izzy

  Yes, but for some reason you seem incapable of following my instructions. I’ve got a specific task I’d like you to follow through for me. Will you do it, Isabel? S

  My heart is in my mouth because I know instinctively that I will. At least, I’ll try. Self-doubt lingers when it comes to carrying out some of Seb’s instructions, no matter how much I want to fulfil them.

  Yes. Izzy

  Good. I’m sending you an email that sets out my requirements. I hope you will find it an enjoyable challenge. S

  I’m as impatient as ever and excitement whirls in my stomach. I immediately check my emails. Nothing. I return to my previous browsing on Tumblr and try to put Thursday night’s encounter and Seb’s recent challenge from my mind. I have a report I probably should be finalising for tomorrow, but my mind has been less than focused of late. Well, focused on anything other than Sebastian York.

  After spending the rest of Sunday evening and most of Monday checking my emails every few minutes, I give up and decide that this is another part of Seb’s game. He’s purposefully teasing me and making me wait. And that stirs all sorts of wanton emotions. Sexual frustration and lust haven’t featured in this way before. My sexual appetite has been kick started, and now I mentally picture myself and Seb in all of the images I find online.

  By Tuesday morning, I’m fighting the urge to call or text Seb and see whether he’s forgotten to email me. I manage to make it to work without giving in. Just.

  As I open my email to remind him, there it is. I click it open and then close it just as quickly, realising where I am. Instead, I grab my phone and scroll to load my most recent emails.

  Isabel,

  It seems you struggle to follow my instructions, even when consequences are involved. I have yet to decide if your actions are deliberate and you misbehave in order to be punished. Regardless, I’d like you to follow these instructions—hopefully an enjoyable challenge. You will be making some purchases. You have a budget of £300. My credit card details are at the bottom of the email. The items you buy must either intrigue or excite you and will be:

  Something to spank you with.

  Something to tie you with.

  Something to put inside you when I’m not able.

  And something that scares you a little.

  Happy shopping!

  S

  5555-1103-1479-2709

  11/16

  476

  Holy shit!

  I re-read the email a few times before I finally close it and bury my phone in my drawer. My heart soars at the thought of pleasing Seb by actually completing his request. To know he is happy with me will be a greater reward than any awkwardness or embarrassment I may feel buying these things. You already have a vibrator. Purchasing items that fit his request will be no more difficult. I mentally prepare myself and think about the task he’s set. I can do this. I can. All I have to do is buy a few items online. I’m eager to start my task, wanting to please Seb and bring a smile of approval to his face. My mind is made up—I’ll get this done as soon as I’m home from work tonight.

  I sit on my sofa with the laptop perched on top of my knees. Seb’s instructions flit across my mind as I start my search to purchase some items more intimate than I perhaps would have imagined a few weeks ago.

  With trepidation, I start with the CELLO website where I found my pretty pink vibrator. I f
eel as if I’m doing something illicit, like watching porn. I scold myself for being so silly. While it’s not a pastime I’d share with my mother, I’m an adult. There is nothing forbidden about buying sex toys. I’m comfortable with watching images of BDSM, this should be easy. But the anonymity that the BDSM websites or Tumblr provide makes it safe. This is real. I’m going to give them my name and my address.

  I relax into the sofa cushions and click through the different sections of the site. I’m turned on by considering all the possible items that would satisfy Seb’s instructions. Something to spank you with. I add a small black flogger with suede to the basket. The kiss of the tassels is something that I long to feel. Will they tickle, sting or hurt me? Something to tie you with. The blindfold and satin ties ooze luxury, and I can imagine the cool material binding me. Something to put inside you when I’m not able. My heart skips as I imagine what the larger vibrator will feel like, pushed into my core. The sleek vibrator is in the basket and I’m eager to explore the next requirement. Something that scares you a little. His instruction gives me the courage to add items that I’ve thought of, but shied away from.

  My nipples are sensitive, so I add a delicate silver pair of tweezer clamps that are connected by a silver chain. Next, a small leather paddle with intricate stitching catches my eye. It’s a contradiction to me. It looks sensual and pretty, yet dangerous at the same time. How would my body react to being bent over Seb’s breakfast bar and paddled? I press my thighs together, seeking relief from the arousal spurred by the thought of Seb applying the contents of my shopping basket on my willing body.

  In less than an hour, I have everything. At the last moment I add love beads and a sensual hot oil candle. I couldn’t resist the idea of the beads, the ability of them to keep me on the edge of arousal, wet for Seb, is too much after mentally playing over my fantasies. I put my laptop to the side and stretch out my legs. It’s suddenly very hot.