“Ooh, Sir,” she groaned, unable to stop herself from wriggling against his touch.
“Your legs, they wish to close, they wish to rub against themselves, is this not so?”
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.
“This is not allowed, not until I decide, so I have something to make them behave, but first…”
His voice trailed off as he tickled her clit, teasing and toying inside her pussy. Watching her eyes close, and hearing her urgent breathing, he decided to stretch out the luscious moment. She was falling in love with his exploring fingers, and he continued the prurient play until her squirming wetness told him she was completely lost in her need. Cupping her sex with one hand, he reached to the side of the chair with the other, retrieving the spreader bar.
“Look,” he directed.
Fluttering open her eyes, she stared at him, not sure what it was she was supposed to be studying. His hand was still against her, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
“You see this?” he asked, holding it up.
“The pole,” she mumbled.
“I am going to place this between your ankles. You will not be able to close your legs. This first time it will not be too wide,” he promised, “but in the future…”
“Yes?”
“In the future I will have it very wide, and you will be bent over a couch, and every part of you will be open to me.”
His deep brown eyes glinted at her, and the imagery sent an erotic shuddering through her loins. He felt her hot, pulsing energy against his hand, and he squeezed, then lightly pinched her clit.
“Sir,” she trembled.
“You are feeling weaker?”
“Yes, Sir, I am, much weaker.”
“The chains are strong, they will hold you.”
Dropping his hand away, he crouched down, moving her legs a short distance apart, and attached the bar to her ankle cuffs.
“Now you are as you should be,” he remarked as he stood up. “Now you are mine to do with as I wish, aren’t you, Vivien?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Moving to the table, he popped the champagne cork, filled a crystal flute, and selecting some chunks of the rich chocolate, he moved slowly back to her.
“Open your mouth,” he instructed, dropping in the chocolate. “Close your eyes and let it melt against your tongue, then you will tell me how delicious it was.”
He watched her as he sipped the champagne, and as he sensed the succulent sweet devouring her taste buds, he placed the flute on the small table next to the chair, and returned his fingers to her slippery pussy. Moaning heavily, she tried to close her legs, and squirm against him, but the bar between her ankles made it impossible.
“Ah, yes, you are learning who is in charge of your pussy,” he murmured, “and your lovely tits,” he continued, tonguing each in turn, “and your mouth.”
Pressing his lips to hers, his tongue shared the sweet melted chocolate, while his fingers continued their dance between her legs.
“Would you like some champagne?” he murmured, his lips moving to her ear as he dropped his hand away.
“Yes, please, Sir.”
Carefully taking the flute to her mouth, he tipped it forward, letting the sparkling wine flow, and swallowing it down, she let out a long, heavy sigh.
“That was so good,” she mumbled.
“All pleasure, yes?”
“Yes, Sir, all pleasure,” she replied, her eyes half-lidded. “I feel as if I’m in a dream.”
Taking another sip of the champagne himself, he placed the glass back on the small table, then walked behind her.
“Close your eyes,” he said firmly.
She felt the black satin touch her eyelids, and as he wrapped it around her head, shutting out the small amount of light that bathed the room, she took a deep breath. The introduction had been magical, compelling and seductive, but she knew that’s what it had been, an introduction. What was to follow?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It began with a sole finger whispering down her spine, pressing gently as it moved over the thin leather to circle each of her seat cheeks, and traveling down the inside of her right thigh, it ignored the silent craving cry of her clit. The fingertip continued its journey up to her stomach, pausing for a moment before ascending her torso to visit her right breast, where it suddenly, unexpectedly, sharply pinched a nipple, eliciting a sharp cry of pained surprise.
“Two rules, are you paying attention?” he asked, fondling the pulsing rosebud.
“Yes, Sir,” she panted.
“When I ask you a question, you reply immediately, and if I tell you to do something, you do it right away. Tell me what I just said.”
“I answer immediately, and do whatever you say.”
“Good girl,” he whispered, continuing to caress the one breast.
Holding it between both his hands, he lowered his lips, sucking gently, and nestled his thigh against her sex.
“Sir, that’s amazing,” she moaned, but he didn’t respond, just continued his adoring attention to her fleshy mound.
His mouth was relentless, his tongue rolling her nipple, his teeth lightly nibbling, his fingers fondling and gently squeezing, all the while his leg gently rubbed. When her staccato utterances of joy became an uninterrupted moan, he lifted his head, kissed her shoulder, dropped his knee away, and moved his lips to her ear.
“You liked that.”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“And you love it when I touch down here,” he murmured, his fingers exploring between her swollen pussy lips. “You are soaking.”
She gasped and wriggled as much as her binds would allow, but then his fingers moved to her other, neglected nipple, and she waited, aching for him to give it the same attention.
“Does this breast want consideration too?”
“Yes, Sir, please,” she panted.
“It began with a hard pinch, did it not?”
“Yes, Sir, it did.”
“So this is how it works, to have the pleasure, first you must earn it with the pain. I will ask you again, does this breast want consideration too?”
“Ooh, Sir.”
There was a slight pause before his hand fell hard on her backside, landing three stinging smacks on each cheek. She cried out and tried to move her feet, but the spreader bar made it impossible.
“Why did I punish you?”
“B-because I, uh, I didn’t answer.”
“Oui, because you didn’t answer. Now you learn, you do as I say, or you will be punished. Next time it will be more smacks. So, now, what is your answer, does this breast want consideration too?”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
His fingers held her nipple, waiting, allowing her anticipation to build, and she grit her teeth, preparing for the sharp pain. He tweaked, she yelped, but immediately his warm comforting mouth fell in place of his fingers, his hands began their sensual play, his knee returned between her legs, and losing herself in the joyous decadence, she moaned happily, leaning her head against her arms.
Vivien was falling into a euphoric trance, his loving mouth and warm massaging hands sending her further into her blissful state. When he slowly withdrew to settle in the chair, she sighed, sinking into the warm sting of her backside, and the heavy, erotic ache of her breasts.
Reaching under the chair, Dominic retrieved his long, thin dressage whip. There was a small jar on the table next to him, and unscrewing the lid he dipped in his finger, then slid it across the last few inches of the thin rod, including its feathered tail.
Lifting it in the air, he tapped it softly against her breasts, eliciting a sharp gasp and jerk of her body. He knew it was a delightful tickle, and he circled her nipples, giving them each a sharper tap, ensuring a light coating of the spicy oil, before carrying it down to slither against her sex, burrowing it into her slit.
Watching her slit lips close around it, with easy skill he moved the oiled end back and forth, and lifting his gaze, h
e relished the rise and fall of her chest, knowing she was living in the moment, buried in the scintillating sensations that were flooding her senses. Sending the stick into a tantalizing seesaw rhythm, he picked up the crystal flute and sipped the champagne.
This is heaven. Your first time before me, locked in chains and helpless, your glorious body heaving with its need, your pussy so wet, and craving my cock…yes, this is heaven.
Though he could feel his own need pressing against the confines of his slacks, he savored the moment, drawing it out, allowing the spicy oil and teasing stick to ride her forward.
Her moans grew, and her rapid breathing transformed into an intense panting. Delighting in the sound of her sighs and moans, he slowly slid the crop from her sex and laid it against the chair, then standing up, he quickly removed his clothes.
“How are you?” he purred, moving behind her.
“I don’t know,” she breathed. “There are no words.”
“There is so much I want to do to you, share with you, teach you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I want to train you, Vivien. Do you wish to be trained?”
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, “so much.”
“Your pussy is on fire?”
“Yes, what you just did, yes, it’s on fire, wonderful fire.”
“Mmmm, and now I will bring fire to your beautiful bottom,” he warned, kissing her shoulder as his hand passed over her cheeks.
She groaned, but arched her back to show her willingness.
“First, some champagne?”
“Oh, yes, please, Sir.”
Retrieving the flute from the small table, he brought the glass to her lips, and slowly poured the bubbly liquid into her mouth.
Downing the last of it, he returned it to the table, then moved to a rack that held a various selection of floggers, belts, and whipping implements, picking up a thin strap. It would deliver a tantalizing sting, but the pain would quickly pass, and returning to her side, he tapped it against her bottom.
“This will sting, but I believe you will find it exciting,” he purred, moving his lips across her neck.
Stepping back, he softly whisked the thin leather across her backside, then flicked it between her legs. The surprise visit against her sex made her squeal, but as he continued the strap’s dance, one stroke on her bottom, one against her pussy, she felt herself drawing closer to a powerful climax.
“Sir,” she panted, “I’m s-so close.”
“Mmmm, I’m sure you are,” he purred. “Just a few more meaningful lashes across your beautiful bottom. These will sting more than the last. These are the payment for your pleasure.”
“Oooh, yes, Sir,” she managed, and as he caressed her cheeks, squeezing and fondling, she thrust back at his hand.
“You love attention like this?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“One of these days, your bottom will get a lot more of me,” he purred.
Before she could respond he moved away, and lifting the whip, he landed it with zing, following it with another, and then another. She yelped as the sting seared through her, squirming as much as her shackles would allow, but quickly returning to her side, he rubbed her burnt skin as he kissed her neck.
“You have done so very well.”
“Thank you, Sir, I feel so strange.”
“I know, and I’m going to rub you for just a minute longer, then feed you some strawberries and cream,” he said softly. “Just breathe now, just breathe and feel the comfort of my palm.”
When he felt she had settled, he moved across to the large table, filling a bowl with the delectable berries, dropping in a large dollop of the thick, whipped cream.
As he ambled back to her side, he thought he’d never seen a more lovely vision. When he’d placed her in the chains, he’d left her arms bent, and her head was gently resting in the crook of her elbow. Her long hair was flowing around her face and shoulders in haphazard waves, and her proud breasts, held up by the invisible underwire, were jutting out as if asking for his mouth. The full, round cheeks of her backside, in spite of their bright pink blush, seemed to be begging for more.
Spooning the desert into her mouth, he listened to her groans of gratitude, knowing her heightened state of arousal was responsible for the extreme flavors she was tasting.
“Was that delicious?” he asked, placing the empty bowl on the small table.
“Oh, my God, incredible.”
“You deserved them,” he whispered. “Now I will take you from the chains, and you must move your arms slowly down while I massage you.”
Unsnapping the shackles, he brought his fingers to her shoulders and back, rubbing firmly, pressing his thumbs into her muscles as she lowered her arms, continuing until they hung at her sides, then crouching down, he removed the spreader bar, and the cuffs around her ankles.
“Come with me,” he said softly, an arm around her waist.
He led her slowly across the room to a double bed tucked away in a corner. Two pillows in the center of the mattress were waiting her arrival, and helping her on to the clean white cotton sheets, he positioned her over them so her hips were raised.
He paused, gazing at her fondly, then stepping away he hastily stripped, donned a condom, and climbed on to the bed behind her. His fingers began exploring her dripping sex, and she moaned softly, wriggling against them, aching for more.
“Are you ready for my cock?” he asked, his fingers continuing to tease her pussy.
“Yes, please, Sir, I’m aching for your cock.”
“Ah, this is what I must hear,” he smiled, and placing his swollen member against her, he thrust home.
She wailed her joy, bucking against him, and without pause he pumped her pussy, his hands clutching her hips as his fever engulfed him. Her gorgeous, punished bottom stared up at him, and her growing rapturous cries united with his groans as their mutual moment loomed.
He knew the spicy oil and flicking flogger would have brought her close, and he expected she would soon reach the edge, but the speed of his own climax took him by surprise.
“Sir,” she howled, “I…I…am…g-going…to…explode!”
Her honey walls pulsed against him, her wails filling the room, and throwing his head back, his eyes squeezing shut, his life force surged forth, jerking his body with its eruptive power.
Vivien could hear his deep, guttural groans, but it was all part of a giant, tumbling, wash of sparking energy that seemed never-ending, and when the electric torrents finally abated to a heavenly ripple of tantalizing tingles, she felt herself fall limp, and then his arms wrapping around her, rolling her against him.
There was no recall of the pillows being moved, or the blindfold coming off, nor did she know when she had fallen beside him; her only sense was his warmth as he held her.
“Dominic,” she breathed, when finally she was able to find her voice.
“Yes, my sweet girl?”
“What is this…thing…we have? This amazing feeling?”
“Ah, this,” he sighed, “this is passion.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The following day, in his stately London home, Robson had spent the afternoon staring at headline after headline, his fury growing. He’d decided the best punishment for Vivien was a range of nasty articles suggesting that she was drug-addicted, drank too much, and was suffering from some odd mental malady. For hours he’d been on the telephone attempting to convince the press that those were the reasons the much publicized engagement had been called off.
Controlling the media was something at which he excelled, and over the years he’d developed a reputation, you do for me, I’ll do for you, but he had hit a dead end. Without exception the press loved Vivien McKay, and no-one would write a bad word about her. Having consumed too much whiskey, and at his wits end, he’d called Alfred, who had immediately dropped everything and rushed to his friend’s side.
“Maybe you should just let it go,” Alfred suggested, as Robson led him into h
is sumptuous study. “I mean, if she’s not right for you then-”
“I can’t, I won’t,” Robson interrupted, pouring Alfred a large scotch.
“But if you can’t get the press to do your bidding, how else are you going to get back at her?”
“I don’t know,” Robson scowled.
“Please don’t do anything illegal,” Alfred begged. “I’ve already gotten you out of one scrape, and I-”
“I’ll do what needs doing,” Robson growled. “She can’t put me through the mill like that, and just walk away, but you don’t have to worry. Whatever I do, it won’t be against the law.”
“Good to hear,” Alfred sighed. “At least you have the ring back.”
“Believe me,” Robbie interrupted, “I’d have that ring back, one way or another.”
“Ah, yes, quite,” Alfred mumbled. “Perhaps we should go to the club and have some dinner. I’ll bet you’ve been at it all day and haven’t eaten a thing. Maybe and idea will come to you, after you’ve had a decent meal.”
“That, Alfie, is a superb suggestion,” Robson declared. “I’ll take a hot shower and be down in a few minutes.”
Alfred watched his friend march out of the room, then settled into an armchair near the blazing fire. Robson made him nervous when he was wired. As methodical as Robson could be, Alfred had seen him take foolish risks when out for revenge, and showing Vivien that she’d crossed the wrong man, was such a mission. They both knew it was only because of Alfred’s intervention a few years before, that Robson had escaped serious consequences, but as he stared at the dancing flames he knew it was a false hope. When Robson had a target in his sights, there was no taking the rifle from his hands. Alfred shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.
While Robson and Alfred were making their way to their gentleman’s club, Vivien and Dominic were boarding the Eurostar back to London.
A Promise of Passion Page 14