Guilty Pleasures

by Bertrice Small

  “I have told you once, your grace, that I am no whore. Because a woman enjoys coupling and playing with a man doesn’t mean she is a whore,” Carla said irritably.

  Ignoring her, he leaned over to take something else from his basket of toys. Then he sat down next to her again. “Your arse is quite pink again,” Hawke remarked. “I believe it is now time to attend to your cunt once more.”

  Carla could now see the object he had drawn from the basket. It was a long feather with a sharply pointed tip. He ran it slowly down her slit, and she shivered.

  “Oh, yes, wench, you will enjoy this, I promise,” he said as he skillfully plied the feather across her cunt lips, as well as back and forth along the shadowed slit. She could feel moisture beginning to rise. Then, with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, he spread her open and began to tickle her clit, slowly at first, and then with quicker strokes and flicks of the feather.

  Carla’s lust exploded. Despite her trussed-up position, she attempted to squirm away from the feather that was so skillfully torturing her. Her juices were flowing, and she screamed with her desire. Carefully he inserted the feather into her vagina, teasing the sensitive walls of flesh. “I want to be fucked!” Carla moaned desperately. “I want to be fucked, you bastard! Aren’t you man enough to do it to me? Can you only tantalize me, your grace? I want to be fucked, damn it!”

  He withdrew the feather. “Woman!” he declared in bored tones. “Either you can’t bear being fucked or all you want is to be fucked. There is more to passion. You will be fucked, wench. You will be fucked until you are breathless and unconscious, but I am not yet of a mind to give you that. I am enjoying torturing you with desire.” But then he thrust three fingers into her vagina, jamming them back and forth several strokes until she came with a shriek. “There! Are you satisfied for now, wench?”

  “Unbind me,” she begged him. “I am beginning to lose feeling in my extremities.” And she was.

  “Of course,” he said in reasonable tones. “It’s time for you to tease me a bit.” He reached up and undid the bonds holding her legs and arms, massaging each limb for a few moments so that the feeling came back into them.

  Carla lay flat on the bed, breathing deeply. “Can I do whatever I want?” she asked him.

  “You can’t bind me,” he said.

  “Just your arms,” she begged him. “I want free reign over your body.”

  “You want to slit my throat, wench, and I am fully aware of it. I will let you have your way as long as it pleasures me.” He stretched out next to her.

  Carla knew she had to be satisfied with that. “No touching me unless you simply can’t bear it,” she warned him. Then, getting onto her haunches, she looked him over carefully. He was definitely lickable, and so she decided that she would lick him. First she bent to kiss him, her tongue shooting into his mouth to find his tongue. The two digits intertwined and stroked at each other for several long minutes. Then Carla broke the embrace, her tongue licking the side of his face.

  The tongue moved slowly, at a leisurely pace, to his throat, his neck, his shoulders. It lapped across the broad chest, tasting him, savoring the scent of salt and sun, sensing the muscles beneath his flesh. She moved to his belly. It was hard and smooth. Her tongue dipped into his navel and out again.

  “You are not permitted my cock yet,” he warned her.

  “Very well, your grace,” Carla agreed. But then she moved across the bed so she might see what was in his basket. With a smile she drew out a small leather tawse. “Get on your hands and knees,” she commanded him, and was delighted when he obeyed. Admiring his round, firm, and tight butt, she smacked him with the tawse. To her surprise he didn’t protest, so she began to lay several hard blows on him. His buttocks quickly bloomed crimson, and his cock, which had hung beneath him, now stiffened, shooting straight forward. Carla hit him harder. “You are a very bad boy,” she told him.

  “More than you can imagine,” Hawke replied, and then he sprang off the bed. Yanking the tawse from her hand, he pulled her from her place. “On your knees, wench! You know what to do, and I expect you to do it well or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

  Kneeling before him, Carla began to lick the thick length, but she was excited by what she had done and couldn’t resist taking him almost immediately into her mouth. She could barely contain him, but she began to suck him, harder and harder, drawing him deeper into her mouth until his cock tip was touching the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She felt his hand on her head, kneading it, and heard his harsh breath.

  “Ah, wench,” he groaned, “your skills are to be commended. Suck harder!”

  He was going to come in her mouth, Carla knew, and she wanted him in her cunt. How long would it take him to renew his vigor? Well, it was her fantasy, wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure right now, but if she still had some kind of control, he would come and still be hard. That was just what she wanted. Make it so, she prayed silently.

  And then he came, spurting his creamy, salty juices down her throat so hard and fast, she could barely swallow quickly enough. He groaned loudly with the act. “By God, wench, I have never had better,” he told her, “but alas, I am not yet satisfied.” He yanked her up. “On your back,” he said, pulling her onto the edge of the mattress, pushing her legs up to her shoulders. Looming over her, he moved closer, thrusting into her cunt with a sigh and another groan of distinct pleasure.

  Then he began to piston her hard and deep with an energy that both surprised and astounded her. Carla’s head spun with delight. This was what she had been waiting for, and she was not disappointed. She couldn’t ever remember entertaining a cock of such length and girth. His performance was incredible, and while at first it had felt as if he was splitting her in two, the sensation quickly gave way to a feeling of unbelievable rising pleasure. Unable to contain herself, she screamed with delight, and before she could stop herself, she climaxed, shuddering over and over again until she finally ceased quivering.

  He withdrew his sated cock, slowly nodding with open satisfaction. “Wench, you know well how to please a man. I am content for now.”

  “I’m not,” Carla finally managed to say. “Is that all you are good for, your grace? One small fuck? I will not believe that!”

  “You are too bold,” he said, his handsome face darkening. “I will fuck you again when it pleases me, and not a moment before.”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “Well,” she said, “you are hardly a youth. I suppose I was fortunate to gain one good poke from you. I had, I will admit, hoped for better.”

  “Do you think me incapable?” he demanded.

  “You said you would do me when it pleased you,” Carla answered him. “That certainly means you are not capable of fucking me again. How typical and how selfish. You have satisfied yourself but care not if I have been satisfied.”

  “You screamed with your pleasure, wench,” he said.

  “I did. But do you mean to ration my pleasure? If that is so, then just let me pay you for the island now, and you can be gone back to England.”

  “I haven’t sent the documents to Governor Morgan yet,” he said. “Are you telling me that you believe my claim is true?”

  “Whether ’tis true or not, you would in a pirate’s fashion have gold from me. Take it then, and leave me to find a lover who can satisfy me fully,” Carla told him. She suddenly felt better. She had been well fucked, and felt she was about to regain control of this unexpected fantasy she was enjoying. Then, casting a scornful glance at his groin, she saw that his cock was more than ready to do battle with her cunt once more. “Ohhh,” she murmured, and a wicked smile touched her lips as she scrambled from her precarious perch on the edge of the bed back into its middle.

  He said nothing, instead climbing atop her to push slowly into her vagina again. “Is that better now, wench?” he growled at her.

  Carla wrapped her legs about him. “Ohh, yes, your grace,” she purred into his ear.

  The day beyo
nd the bedroom’s French doors began to fade into late afternoon, but neither Hawke nor Carla tired of their sexual play. But then she fell asleep, and when she opened her eyes again, she was in her own bed—the bed she shared with her husband. A contented smile touched her face, and then Carla fell back to sleep. When she awoke again, it was raining outside. What a night, she thought. She might not have imagined someone like Hawke, but she had to admit she was not dissatisfied with him. He was every woman’s dream. Tireless and skillful.

  The rain stopped by eleven, and Tiffany called just after noon. “Did you survive last night?” she asked, giggling.

  “Barely,” Carla answered. “He whipped me. I whipped him. I sucked. He fucked. And oh, let me tell you about the pointed feather.”

  “A feather?” Tiffany almost whispered. “Pointed?”

  “Yep, and a most devastating weapon, I might add,” Carla said as she explained how he had used the wicked tickler on her clitoris.

  “God, he sounds like a perfect brute,” Tiffany said. “I am sooo jealous.”

  Carla laughed. “Create a brute of your own. Your sultans don’t all have to be civilized and gallant. Certainly the real ones weren’t.”

  “I couldn’t,” Tiffany replied.

  “Why ever not?” Carla wanted to know.

  Tiffany hesitated.

  “Tiffy! You have a secret,” Carla accused. “Tell me! Don’t I tell you everything? Come on now. Spill it!”

  “The men I fuck with all look like Joe,” Tiffany finally said. “Oh, they have better bodies than my husband, but they all have the same face. If I’m going to screw them without guilt, they have to look like Joe.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Carla said. Then she laughed. “If I put Rick’s face on any of my playmates, I couldn’t do half the naughty stuff I do. And I wouldn’t want to, Tiffy. Rick is a sweet and tender lover. He always was. But adventurous and wicked isn’t in his character. If I put Rick’s face on a lover who whipped me and ass-fucked me, I wouldn’t believe it at all. I’d get a fit of the giggles.”

  “I love my romance novels, especially the harem ones, as you well know,” Tiffany admitted, “but I have never been able to see myself making love to anyone else but Joe. I can’t help it. I’d feel guilty. Don’t you ever feel guilty?”

  “No,” Carla said. “The Channel is fantasy, nothing more. You don’t think married guys dream about screwing other women? I’ll bet Joe does now and again.”

  “I can’t do it,” Tiffany said. “Here I am, a smart woman who raised her twins, got her training, and now works in a law office. But I can’t imagine loving anyone but Joe.”

  “The Channel isn’t about loving anyone,” Carla said. “It’s just fantasy. I would never consider being unfaithful to Rick in real life, but the Channel isn’t real.”

  Tiffany sighed. “I guess I’m just different from the rest of you,” she said. “I can’t help the way I feel.”

  “You’re sweet,” Carla told her friend. “Rick called from Paris last night.”

  “He’s in Paris? Wow! Maybe Joe should have taken Ryan as a client and left Ashley to Rick,” Tiffany teased.

  “Rick’s in Paris, not me,” Carla said drily. “And if it were Joe, you wouldn’t be in Paris any more than I am.”

  “Hey, I’m the firm’s legal aide,” she said.

  “I would still wager no Paris,” Carla said and chuckled. “Are we going to the club this weekend for dinner?” she asked. “I told Rick I was going.”

  “How about Sunday?” Tiffany responded. “With Rick away you don’t want to have to cook for just one.”

  “You could invite me for dinner,” Carla teased.

  “I don’t want to have to cook either,” Tiffany said with a laugh.

  “What time? Not too early. I’ll need to recover from Hawke’s playfulness,” Carla said with a grin. “Hey, it’s Saturday night, after all.”

  “You are going to be exhausted by the time Rick gets home,” Tiffany said. “He’s going to think you’re coming down with something.”

  Carla chuckled, and then she grew serious. “I’m still concerned about how this guy got into my fantasy. I did not think him, or anyone like him, up, Tiffy.”

  “But you were thinking that you wanted more excitement in your fantasy,” Tiffany reminded her friend again. “Maybe that translated into your pirate king.”

  “I didn’t think such a thing could happen,” Carla said. “With events maybe, but with people? I’ve always micromanaged my fantasy carefully. Pirates weren’t the nicest people in reality, as I’ve told you. I absolutely did not think up this Hawke character. So where did he come from, Tiffy?”

  “You got me, Carla,” Tiffany admitted. “Maybe you should call the Channel’s customer hotline and ask.”

  “Yeah,” Carla replied slowly. “Maybe I should.” She paused and added, “Just not yet. Since I didn’t program this, I’m curious as to how it’s going to play out.”

  “You’re braver than I am. I think when that pirate walked in, you should have said ‘Fantasy end.’ If you aren’t in control like you’re suppose to be, then something is wrong, Carla.”

  “I’ll call customer service after the weekend,” Carla promised. “It’s Saturday afternoon, and no one will be there anyway.”

  “They have service twenty-four-seven,” Tiffany said.

  “But what if they had to take me off-line until whatever is wrong could be fixed?” Carla murmured. “If I thought there was anything seriously wrong, I just wouldn’t access it, Tiffy. Who knows? Maybe my subconscious wanted an adventure with a bad boy, and the king of the pirates is certainly a very bad boy. Besides, I’m back in charge now, and I have some serious payback to deliver to his grace.”

  Tiffany shook her head. “As I said, you’re braver than me. Nora’s home, by the way. Why don’t you ask her if something could go wrong? She works for the Channel Corporation, and she’s pretty high up in the organization now.”

  “She’s the CEO of their development division,” Carla said proudly. “Who would have thought a woman who had the mind-set of a fifties housewife just seven years ago could have wised up and come so far? Yeah, I’ll go over and ask her if she’s ever heard of something like this happening.”

  “Good,” Tiffany replied. “I’ll feel better about it then. You going to the Blairs’ barbecue today?”

  “Yeah,” Carla answered. “I can’t get over how love found Kathy, and it’s all so perfect for them. See you there?”

  Tiffany nodded. “Ride with us,” she suggested.

  “Nah,” Carla responded. “I might want to leave before you do.”

  Tiffany shook her head. “You mean you want to get back to Amorata Cay and your big bad boy.”

  “Yep,” Carla agreed cheerfully, “but I promise to speak to Nora before I do.”

  When Tiffany hung up, Carla did just that, crossing the lawn in midafternoon to Nora Buckley’s big white Colonial. Despite her rise in the corporate world, Nora kept the house she had lived in for so many years with her unfaithful deceased husband and their two children.

  She called it her refuge.

  “Hey,” she said as Carla came in the kitchen door and walked into her den. Nora was an elegant, attractive woman with red-blond hair and gray-green eyes.

  “Hey, yourself,” Carla said, plopping down on the den couch. “I got a question for you. It’s about the Channel.”

  “Shoot!” Nora replied.

  “Did you ever hear of someone popping into a fantasy who wasn’t created by the customer?” Carla asked.

  “No,” Nora said from her recliner. She sat it up and put her wineglass down. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “Well,” Carla began, and then she went on to explain.

  Nora Buckley listened carefully; then she said, “You’re certain you didn’t create him, Carla? Maybe once you thought of someone like this.”

  Carla shook her head in the negative. “I’ll admit I’ve been bored lately being the pirate que
en. That’s why I added Amorata Cay and my house. Actually, I go there to relax when I’m stressed out from the ER at the hospital.”

  “And this Hawke, who calls himself the king of the pirates, just walked in on you?” Nora was thoughtful. “I’ll have to check this out, Carla. I have never before heard of something like this, but you never know, and the Channel isn’t my division. I will, however, call Mr. Nicholas about it.”

  “Thanks. While I’m curious about how this happened, it’s Tiffy who worried,” Carla said. “The guy is a sexual master, so for now I’m just enjoying myself.”

  “As long as you don’t feel you’re in danger,” Nora replied.

  “Hey, I’m the queen of the pirates,” Carla said and chuckled. “I fear no man!”

  Nora laughed, but she was considering the possibility that whoever this Hawke who called himself the king of the pirates was, he was no man. When Carla left, Nora picked up her cell and punched 1.

  Mr. Nicholas immediately answered. “Yes, Nora?”

  “I apologize for interrupting your weekend, sir, but we may have a problem relating to the Channel.” Then she went on to recount her conversation with Carla.

  “I will speak with Julian immediately,” Mr. Nicholas said. “I feared he was too young to be put in charge of the Channel. I had been informed that he allows some of his friends to play in fantasies to which they have not been invited, but he assured me it wasn’t so. Obviously he lied. It isn’t a wise thing to lie to me.”

  “No, sir,” Nora responded.

  “Thank you, my dear, for informing me of this breach. Please tell Mrs. Johnson that she is perfectly safe.”

  “Well, frankly, sir, I got the idea that while she was startled by his appearance, she was enjoying herself,” Nora told her employer.

  “Then we shall allow her one more night. I am told Julian is quite adept at naughtiness, which is why I gave him the Channel to oversee. Obviously he could not resist partaking of the wickedness,” Mr. Nicholas replied. “Thank you, Nora.” And then the head of the Channel Corporation hung up.