“I’m taking the blindfold off,” she said, wanting him prepared for the touch of her hands on his face. She lifted the blindfold and Thorny blinked. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his pupils wide as dimes.
“What was that?” he asked between breaths.
“Rosebuds,” she said, holding up the flogger. The tails were tipped with red leather rosebuds. Thorny grinned. “‘Gather ye rosebuds...’”
“You’re amazing, Mistress.”
“And you’re hard.” She looked down at his cock, harder now than even before the flogging. “Would you like to come?”
“Please, Mistress.”
She reached into her toy bag and produced a bottle of the finest olive oil on the market, which she poured into the palm of her hand. With her slick fingers she gripped his penis and stroked it, covering it with oil.
“Olive oil was used as lube for centuries before actual lube was invented,” Nora said, pulling on Thorny’s cock slowly and gently as his hips undulated in time with her strokes. He was a rod of iron in her fingers, so hard she wondered if it hurt to be that stiff for so long. “It still has one massive advantage over modern lubrication.”
“What is that?” Thorny was swaying on his feet, his head falling against his arm.
“It tastes a lot better.” Nora went down on her knees in front of him and took his cock in her mouth. Thorny cried out as she took him deep in her throat. As hard as he was, he didn’t come immediately, which pleased her. Pausing only to kiss and nibble at his hipbones, she went to work on him, licking from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue around the head, using her hand to pump the shaft as she sucked him with her mouth. He made the loveliest sounds while she licked and sucked him. Whimpers and gasps, whimpers and moans, whimpers and inarticulate pleas for something...release, mercy, more of this, more of that.
“Warn me when you’re about to come,” she said.
“A gentleman always does.”
“I must not know many gentlemen then,” Nora said before putting her mouth back on him and taking him deep again. Holding him by the hips, she moved her mouth all over every straining inch of him. As she sucked him, he fucked her mouth, pumping his hips faster as his breaths grew shorter and shallower. She tasted a few drops of salt on her tongue and drew him completely into her throat. Thorny said her name as a warning and Nora pulled back. She took him in her hand again, gripped him firmly and rubbed hard. He went silent and tense and came in a series of spurts all over the cheval mirror in front of him.
Nora stood up and wiped her mouth off on a towel. Thorny had gone slack.
“Thorny? How are we doing?”
“We are so happy right now we could cry.”
Laughing, Nora unhooked his feet from the spreader bar and removed the ankle cuffs before standing and unhooking him from the ceiling. His arms fell down to his sides and she steadied him to keep him from falling. With an arm around his waist, she guided him to her bed and put him on his stomach. She picked up her olive oil and massaged it into Thorny’s muscles and welts as he groaned with pleasure.
“I have never felt so gooey,” Thorny said. “I’m a noodle.”
“Happy?”
“Blissed. You are so good at that.”
“The flogging or the blowing?”
“All of the above. Thank you, Mistress. I wish they had a Zagat guide for dominatrixes. I would give you five stars.”
“Would you like some water?”
“I would like some food and water.” He slowly rolled to his side making no attempt to hide his flaccid cock from her gaze. He seemed wonderfully comfortable being completely naked in front of her. “Can I take you out to dinner? I need to carbo-load if I’m going to fuck you all night long. Pasta is sex fuel.”
Nora grinned. “You shower the olive oil off your welts while I clean the semen off the mirror, and then we’ll go out for some sex fuel.”
“That’s the weirdest sentence I’ve ever heard. And I’m a prostitute so you know that’s saying something.”
“Really?” Nora asked. “If that’s the weirdest sentence anyone’s ever said to you, you’re clearly not spending enough time with me. You should fix that.”
Thorny leaned in and kissed her, a slow wet deep kiss.
“How about I spend all night with you?” he asked.
“I do want the Boyfriend Experience at some point,” she said.
“Mistress...me buying you dinner so I can get in your pants? That is the Boyfriend Experience.”
29
The Boyfriend Experience
ON THE WAY home from the best little Italian place in Westport, the sky finally broke and hot summer rain exploded all over the streets. They ran, laughing and slipping, from the car and into her house. Once inside the door the both of them shook out their hair and shoes like dogs.
“Finally,” Nora said. “The humidity was hell on my hair.”
“Your hair looks very sexy when wet.” Thorny ran his hands through the wet waves and smiled. “You should be wet all the time.”
“Maybe I am,” she said as he kissed her.
“Can’t wait to find out.” He tugged his jacket off and hung it on the coatrack.
“Should we go upstairs?”
“Do you have any wine in the house?”
“I was raised Catholic. Of course I do. Red or white?”
“Red.”
“It is my color.”
Thorny followed her into the kitchen and opened a bottle of Pinot while she pulled down two wineglasses. He sat on the kitchen table and she stood between his thighs. They sipped from their glasses until Thorny took hers from her hand and set it down next to him.
“What is it?” she asked as he took her hands in his.
“Nothing. I just wanted to do this.” He put her hands on his shoulders and placed his hands on her waist. A perfect position for kissing. So they did.
“Now tell me if I’m wrong...” Thorny said, kissing along her jawline to her ear, “but something tells me I’m not the only one in the room with something on the brain. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. Everything. The usual.”
“What’s the usual?”
Nora sighed. “My ex.”
“Ex-priest?”
“Ex-priest. Ex-lover. Ex-everything.”
“You’re thinking about him?”
“I think about him a lot.”
“When did you two break up?”
“Over three years ago.”
“That’s a long time to be hung up on someone.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Is there a little of the proverbial Catholic guilt happening here?” He wound his fingers into her hair, caressed her cheekbone with his thumb.
“There’s an old Zen saying,” Nora said. “‘To her lover, a woman is a delight. To a monk she is a distraction. To a mosquito she is a good meal.’ With him, my priest, I was all of the above—a delight, a distraction and dinner. He lost a lot when he lost me.”
“I didn’t hear ‘girlfriend’ in there.”
“I was his property, not his girlfriend. He was my owner, not my boyfriend. I am thirty years old and have never had a real boyfriend in my life.”
“Would you like one?” he asked, kissing her ear. Nora closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders again.
“Yes,” she said. “For a night. If you’re offering.”
He kissed the tendon of her shoulder and moved his mouth to her ear again.
“I’m offering.”
His hand slipped under her fitted black T-shirt and tickled her stomach. Nora laughed, already feeling better.
“Do you, by any chance, have any sexy lingerie in your house?” Thorny asked.
“I might,” she said as he pulled back to meet her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“I happen to have a camera with me,” he said. “Takes pics and videos. We could do a little fashion show maybe? Maybe film ourselves having sex? One of my many perversions.”
Nora stepped back and looked at him. Then she crooked her finger at him and walked out of the kitchen.
“Oh...the crooking finger,” Thorny said, picking up the wineglasses. “I will follow that finger wherever it goes.”
In her bedroom, Thorny made himself comfortable on her bed. Shoes and socks off, jacket off, lying on his side with one of her fluffiest red pillows under him while she dug through her closet.
Thorny opened his overnight bag and took out a camera.
“You’re actually taking pics?” Nora asked.
“We can erase everything when we’re done. I won’t even pick out a favorite and ask you to send it to me. Unless you want to.”
“You fuck me all night like you promised, and I’ll consider it.”
“Start considering it...”
She kept her kinky clothes in her closet but the lingerie had its own drawer in her bathroom dresser. She chose three pairs of shoes—her red stilettos, her vintage black-and-beige Mary Janes, and a pair of good old-fashioned saddle shoes.
“Saddle shoes?” He sounded dubious.
“You’ll see,” she said and disappeared into the bathroom. She dug through her dresser drawers and found three outfits. The first one was a red-and-black merry widow that she paired with black stockings and the stilettos. She piled her still-damp mass of hair onto her head and pinned it in place, pulled down a few pieces to frame her face and applied some dark red lipstick.
She stuck one leg out the bathroom door and heard a whistle. She threw the door open dramatically and Thorny collapsed backward onto the bed.
“You look like Sophia Loren,” he said, pretending to croak. “I’ve always wanted to go back in time and fuck Sophia Loren.”
“She’s still alive.”
Thorny sat up straight. “There’s hope for us yet,” Thorny said, addressing his crotch. “Goddamn, you look beautiful. Pose for me.” He flicked the camera on and aimed it at her.
“How do you want me?”
“Every way I can have you. But for now, stand with your hands behind your back and look left. Lift your chin a little and think of something sexy and elegant.”
Nora did as instructed. Thorny snapped the pic. It was a digital camera so he turned it to her so she could see the shot.
“Beautiful, aren’t you?” he said, grinning at the picture. “You photograph well.”
“Take it again. I need to change leg positions.”
She adjusted her stance and Thorny got off a few shots.
“I totally lied,” Thorny said, flipping through the pictures. “I’m taking every single one of these pics with me.”
“Well, if that’s the case...we better take some better ones.”
“What’s better than this?”
She didn’t answer, only gave him a look—that look—and slipped back into the bathroom to change. This time she slipped into her bustier that hooked in the front and had a bow right under her breasts. She pulled on the matching panties, the matching elbow gloves, the matching stockings, slipped her feet into her Mary Janes and buckled the straps around her ankles.
“What do you think?” she asked when she emerged again from the bathroom into the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
“Hmm...” Thorny stood up and walked over to her with the camera in his hand. “Not bad...but let’s try this.” He lifted her hands and put them on the back of her head. With the slightest pressure he tipped her hips to the side “Better.” He took a few steps back and took a picture. When he looked at it he didn’t seem pleased.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s still not quite right.” He set the camera down and stood in front of her. Nora tried not to laugh as he looked her up and down, his chin in his hand, his eyes narrowed like an auteur trying to see his subject in a new light. “I know what’s wrong with the picture.”
“What?”
“This.” Thorny untied the bow on her bustier and opened it hook by hook. He paused and met her eyes as if giving her a chance to tell him no. She didn’t. He pulled the bustier off her and let it fall to the floor.
“Better?” she asked.
“Almost there...” He took both her naked breasts in his hands and squeezed them. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, tugging and pinching them. Nora closed her eyes as he touched her. She felt blood rushing to her breasts. Her nipples hardened in his fingers and the warm delicious sensation of it suffused her entire body. She felt her vagina growing wet, and her clitoris swelling as he devoted his full attention to her nipples. When he lifted her breast in the palm of his hand and clamped his lips on the nipple to suck it, a jolt like lightning traveled down her spine. He gave her other nipple equal attention, sucking it eagerly and deeply while she held herself in place, back arched, breasts high, hands clasped on the back of her head. A soundless sigh escaped her lips. Thorny kissed his way from her breasts to her neck. He held her nipples between his fingers as he bit lightly into her throat, playfully feeding on her flesh as he teased the tips of her breasts.
Finally he stepped back.
“Now...” he said looking at her with his critical eye, “that’s the look I wanted. Don’t move.”
He took a few pictures of her in that pose before moving her into a new pose, leaning against the wall on her forearms, her breasts thrust forward and her back arched. A classic burlesque stance. Thorny took his pictures from several angles. Then he put her against the wall and she lifted her arms over her head again, clasping her elbows.
“Beautiful,” he said and she could tell from the obvious bulge in his jeans he wasn’t simply flattering her.
“One more outfit. Ready?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
“With this outfit? Probably not. Brace yourself.” She went back into the bathroom and quickly changed clothes. She pulled the pins out of her hair, brushed her hair into pigtails and braided them.
“It’s not exactly lingerie,” Nora said as she emerged from the bathroom. “But I thought you’d like it anyway.”
Thorny’s baby blue eyes went wide as she stepped into the light.
“Jesus, Mary and Britney...” Thorny breathed at the sight of her.
“It’s the real deal,” she said. “I went to Catholic school kindergarten through high school. I shortened the skirt, obviously...” Nora turned her back to Thorny and bent over slightly. The navy blue pleated skirt lifted to reveal her white cotton panties she wore underneath. She had on a white blouse—barely buttoned—the navy pleated skirt, white-navy-and-gray argyle knee socks and her black-and-white saddle shoes.
“I have never wanted to be Catholic so much in my life.”
“What are you?”
“I’m from Utah originally if that gives you a hint.”
Nora laughed. “One of those, eh? What’s that old saying that applies to Mormons? When they’re good they’re very, very good, but when they’re bad they’re—”
“Male prostitutes?”
“Something like that. So I take it you approve of the outfit?”
“I approve. My cock approves. I don’t think we have to worry about my brain killing me. My dick is going to do me in first if it doesn’t get inside you soon,” he said, stroking her clitoris through the fabric of her panties.
“How should I pose?”
Thorny nodded toward the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed as Thorny set the camera down by the pillow.
“I want you...” he said, reaching under her skirt and tugging her underwear down and off her. Then he pushed her knees open wide and lifted her skirt to her stomach. “Just like that.”
Nora leaned back on her elbows. Thorny looked at her but without touching.
“You like it?” she asked, opening her legs wider so that her labia parted to reveal the entrance to her vagina.
“Like is not the word I would use right now.”
“What word would you use?”
“Lick,” he said and buried his head between her legs. She gasped
as his tongue went into her vagina, a good gasp and one of pleasant surprise. Thorny sat on his knees and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed. He thrust his tongue in and out of her. Nora placed her hand gently on the back of his head as she pushed her pelvis against his mouth in small quick pulses. The pressure coiled inside her like a spring twisting and tightening. Thorny’s head lowered and rose as he licked every part of her, her vulva and labia, her clitoris, passing his tongue over and into her with incredible skill and enthusiasm. The man clearly loved his work as much as she loved hers. He didn’t let her come, however. He stopped and kissed her inner thigh as he reached out and picked up the camera.
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“Oh, yes I would.” He grinned at her over her thigh. “Touch yourself.”
“Is that an order?”
“Absolutely.”
“Should I call you ‘sir’?”
“I had to call my dad ‘sir.’ How about you call me... Mister Thorny?”
“Yes, Mister Thorny.” She winked at him as she moved her hand between her legs. “Any special requests, Mister Thorny?”
“Spread wider.”
“If I spread any wider you’ll be able to read my thoughts.”
“Like an open book,” he said, using his elbows to nudge her thighs wider.
“Pull back your clit hood. Your ring is obstructing my view,” Thorny said as he adjusted the settings on the camera.
“That ring was a Valentine’s Day gift, I’ll have you know.”
“Gift or not, it’s in the way of your clit and my pictures.”
Nora laughed and lightly tugged on the ring to retract the hood of skin over the swollen bud of her clitoris.
“Beautiful,” Thorny said, snapping a very intimate close-up. “Now the labia nice and wide. Use both hands.”
“Are we sending these pics to Hustler or the American Medical Journal of Gynecology?”
“Pretty sure they’re the same thing.” With the comfort of a man who made his money having sex with rich women for a living, he stripped out of his clothes without any further ado. Everything he did was a pleasure to watch—rolling on the condom, covering himself with a layer of lube, sliding his slick fingers into her and opening her up with his hand. Even wiping his hands clean on a tissue he did with a certain sexual aplomb. His casual confidence in the bedroom reminded her of someone. Oh, yes. It reminded her of her.
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