Chameleon

by Ashe Barker

  Ethan shifted his position slightly to bring his shoulders between her now widespread thighs. He took his time, gazing at the sweetly moist and very pink pussy so obligingly displayed inches from his face. She was aroused, close to incoherent with it, her clit swollen, almost completely out of its protective hood. The lips of her cunt were engorged, plump and inviting, slick and wet. Leaning on one elbow, Ethan slowly drew the backs of his knuckles along her quivering slit, noting the extra droplets of moisture appearing there. He leaned in, blew directly onto her clit and watched as her muscles tightened. He blew again, and caught the merest twitch as she suppressed the urge to thrust upwards, seeking the friction she desperately needed.

  “Don’t move, Fleur,” he maintained that implacable tone then leaned in to destroy her totally.

  Two licks. Two long, slow, flat-tongued licks along the length of her cunt was all it took to send Fleur and her hard-fought-for composure spinning out of control. She gave a lurch, a small cry and was gone, caught up in a whirlwind of orgasmic fury as her body finally asserted its inevitable victory. Ethan slid two fingers into her, thrusting sharply to rub against her G-spot. Even though his instructions had been explicit, he had known she would lose this battle. It went against all he knew and felt to allow a woman’s orgasm to be anything less than it could be. Not on his watch. She might not have had his permission for this release, but in the end, they all counted. He massaged her G-spot and finger-fucked her into oblivion, smiling to himself at how easy it had really been, despite her determination to obey his instructions. She was such a hot, responsive little thing.

  Ethan carried on sliding his fingers in and out of her pussy, slowing the tempo as her body ceased its uncontrolled shudders. At last, she lay still. Ethan watched as she drew the tip of her tongue along her lower lip, a sign he was beginning to recognize as fear. She was afraid of him, afraid of the consequences of her lapse. He found he didn’t appreciate this, not at all. Nervous apprehension was all well and good—he could work with that—but fear was counter-productive.

  Ethan reached up to cup her chin in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her lips.

  “You came, without permission.”

  “I am sorry, Sir, so very sorry. I tried and I just—”

  “I know. It’s hard, and I didn’t let up. You did well to hold out as long as you did. I’m impressed.”

  “I… Thank you, Sir. But, what about my punishment?”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry about that. But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Right now, I want to fuck you.”

  “I see, Sir.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Why, Sir?”

  “Do you know why I want to fuck you? Why I intend to do just that?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Because you’re my fuck toy. My own hot little cunt for my personal use. Isn’t that right?”

  Fleur hesitated for a fraction of a second, then, “Yes, Sir. It is. That is right.”

  Ethan smiled to himself and rolled off the bed to stand beside it, looking down at the olive-skinned woman spread out, naked, tied and blindfolded for his use. Still fully dressed himself, he unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off his shoulders. Fleur obviously heard the rustle of fabric and turned toward him, her head tilting slowly from side to side as she sought a clue, any clue, as to his whereabouts. Ethan stepped slightly farther away from the bed and unzipped his jeans. He took a condom from his front pocket then slid his pants off his hips too, taking his boxer shorts with them, and watched as Fleur again turned her head toward the sound.

  He moved a few paces to his left before ripping the foil open. She tilted her chin in his direction, following the audible clues. He unrolled the condom along his length.

  He stood still, silent, fully naked now, and waited. It didn’t take long, a few seconds no more, before she began to panic.

  “Sir?”

  Ethan remained still and perfectly quiet. He knew what he wanted her to do, what she needed to learn.

  “Sir? Please, Sir…”

  Silence.

  “Fountain! Fountain, please, Sir…”

  He was beside her instantly, his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks to hold her still for his kiss. He brushed his lips over hers and lifted one heavy thigh over her hips, wrapping himself around her. She was left under no illusion that she was not alone.

  Fleur responded powerfully, opening her mouth as she sucked his tongue inside. Rolling fully onto her, Ethan positioned himself between her thighs, his cock nudging her wet and welcoming entrance.

  “Please, Sir, I want you. I want this. Please…”

  Ethan required no further encouragement, sliding into her with one long, swift thrust. Fleur arched toward him, thrusting her hips to meet his. He reached for her knee, drawing it up and outwards to more fully open her. Then he withdrew, waited a moment with just the tip of his cock inside her before plunging back into her. Fleur gasped with pure pleasure and she gripped him tightly with her inner strength. She’d been tight before. Now she was utterly exquisite. Ethan shifted his angle slightly to allow him more, deeper penetration. It was what they both wanted. Fleur brought her other leg up, unbidden, to match the one Ethan had positioned, and he started thrusting.

  Ethan soon established his rhythm—crisp, sharp, incisive. He didn’t intend for this to take long. There would be time later for more drawn out teasing and gentle finesse. Today he was going for a demonstration of what it meant to be submissive. He wanted her surrender.

  He got it. Fleur’s body accepted him as readily as her heart and her mind had. She was unresisting, totally giving, absolutely taken. Ethan fucked her hard, efficiently, pushing her swiftly toward her climax. As she hovered within reach of it, he slipped his hand between their bodies to rub the pad of his middle finger roughly against her clit, leaving her in no doubt of what he wanted, demanded from her.

  He hurled her from one extreme to another, one moment forbidden to orgasm, the next it seemed compulsory. Fleur may have failed to obey the first time, but she did not the second. Her climax drew a long, low moan from her as her body spasmed sharply under the onslaught of Ethan’s thrusting cock. Her pussy gripped Ethan’s erection, her muscles contracting around him as he, too, hurtled toward his own release. He knew the instant Fleur passed the point of no return, and followed her gladly, his balls tightening and drawing up, ready. He rammed his cock into her one last time, hard and deep, and held his position as his semen spurted to fill the condom.

  Fleur lay still beneath him, her breathing rapid, her lips slightly turned up in the beginning of a smile. Ethan reached for the cashmere binding her wrists and tugged at one end of the fabric. The knot fell away, freeing her hands instantly. He made similarly short work of the blindfold, watching, amused, as she blinked in the sudden light. Still inside her, he rolled to his back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hips to bring her with him.

  Her hair lay everywhere, it seemed. He grabbed a fistful of it to draw it back from her face as she tilted her head to prop her chin on his chest. He noted that she still looked vaguely stunned but otherwise okay. If this had been a vanilla fuck, he would have asked her, made sure, but this time the rules were different. Now he waited, allowing her a few moments, no more, to collect her wits, then, “You may thank me, when you’re ready.”

  Her eyes widened but just a fraction. “Thank you, Sir. I… I liked that—very much.”

  Me too, honey.

  He treated her to a slight incline of his head. “You did well. Well enough, anyway. You only disobeyed me five times, so you’ve earned just ten spanks, would you agree with that?”

  “I… Yes, if you say that, Sir, I am sure that you are correct.”

  “I am. As you know, you came without permission so your punishment is doubled. So I’ll make this an easy choice for you. You’ll accept ten stripes with my belt on your bare bottom, or twenty slaps with my hand. Think about it overnight and tell me tomorrow which you think you pref
er.”

  Now her eyes did widen, and Ethan managed not to smile. If she’d looked slightly stunned before, the mention of a belt across her arse had completed the job. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Morning, gorgeous.”

  Ethan was clearly busy, seated on one of the low sofas in the living area of the riad, piles of papers spread on the coffee table in front of him. His laptop sat open on the seat beside him, and a half-full cafetière perched on the edge of the table. His cup sat on the floor. As Fleur entered, he put down the pencil in his hand and smiled across the room at her.

  The friendly greeting reassured her. He seemed not to mind her disturbing him. Which was good, as she wanted to talk—or to listen. Anything, really, she just craved the contact with him.

  She had awoken to find herself alone in the huge bed, though the side previously occupied by Ethan had been still warm. He would not be far away, and her impulse had been to find him, to be close to him again. She had slipped from the bed, hunted around for something to wear, as she felt self-conscious about presenting herself before him naked. At least, not without a direct instruction to that effect. Then she had left the bedroom to seek him out.

  “Good morning, Sir,” she offered the final word cautiously. Fleur was uncertain of the protocol for the morning after and in fairness, she was feeling more than a little confused right now. But of one thing she was certain. For her, the events of last night were still very much in the present—her pussy contracted sharply, just at the memory of it. But this Ethan, the efficient, professional Ethan, who concerned himself with maps and laptops and paperwork, might not be minded to continue their interplay from the previous evening. He looked too serious, too businesslike. He looked—detached.

  “There’s coffee in the pot. Or I could get some tea sent across for you by room service. What would you like for breakfast?”

  You. “I am not hungry, thank you. But tea would be very nice.”

  Ethan got to his feet and strode to the side table where the hotel phone handset sat proudly. He ordered up a tray of Earl Grey tea, toast and croissants in more than passable French, she noted. He made a detour on his way back to his workstation to drop a light kiss on her forehead.

  “You might get peckish later. After your spanking.”

  Ah, not so immersed in business, then. Fleur was conscious of the flush starting at her neck and creeping up her face. She had known that this was coming, but not quite so immediately. A spanking before breakfast? She had somehow managed to assume that her punishment would be administered later, after their return from her parents’ home.

  “You intend to do it now? At this moment?” Her voice sounded rather breathless to her ears. She hoped he would not misinterpret it as eagerness. Although, on the other hand…

  He slanted a brief, inscrutable glance in her direction as he settled back on the sofa. “Who are you talking to, Fleur?”

  She frowned, momentarily thrown. Then she remembered. “You, Sir. I apologize.”

  He simply nodded, accepting her apology. “I could administer your punishment now, which has just grown to twelve spanks, incidentally. You really need to concentrate, Fleur, but I’m confident a seriously sore bottom will help you enormously in that regard. I’ll be giving you a memorable lesson, so I expect it to be effective. I’m happy to allow you to drink your tea first, though. You may prefer to do that sitting. You won’t be sitting afterwards.” He gestured to the sofa opposite him, inviting her to make herself comfortable.

  Despite his ominous promises, Fleur found herself doing exactly that, arranging the lower hem of the shirt she had borrowed from his drawer carefully so as to cover as much of her legs as possible. She fully appreciated that modesty seemed somewhat misplaced between them now, and by the sound of it, it would be entirely shredded before much longer. But the habits of a lifetime die hard. She thought she caught a slight smirk on his handsome face, though that was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He made no comment on her appearance or demeanor, simply applied his attention to gathering his papers together.

  “Please do not let me disturb your work, Sir.” Her protest was quick and polite, of course, but it was offered as much to allow herself a few more minutes to contemplate her situation and immediate prospects.

  “I can finish this later. For now, Fleur, you have my undivided attention. Did you sleep well?”

  “I did. Thank you, Sir.” How polite we are.

  “Me too. You make a delightful bed companion, so soft and warm. It took some effort of will not to wake you up first thing and fuck you until you screamed. But you looked so peaceful.”

  “I…would not have objected, Sir.”

  “How accommodating. Perhaps later. In fact, definitely later. First, though, have you decided how you would prefer to accept your punishment this morning? I take it you will be accepting it?” He smiled pleasantly across the coffee table at her, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

  She would, she had no doubt of that. And she was fairly certain she had made her decision regarding the manner in which she preferred to be punished. Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

  “Ah, your tea. One moment, please.” Ethan stood and went to answer the door.

  She thought about moving from the center of the room in the hopes that she would be unnoticed by the hotel staff member, but recalled that Ethan had protected her anonymity yesterday and she was confident he would do so again. Her confidence was not misplaced as she heard him thank the waiter. He returned to the room carrying the tray, no doubt taken from the waiter in exchange for another handful of dirhams. He placed it on the table in front of her, on top of a large chart still spread out there.

  “Please do help yourself. I think I’ll stick to coffee.” He poured himself another cup. She noticed he did not add milk this morning.

  A minute or so later they were both supplied with drinks. Fleur took a first, tentative sip before lifting her gaze to meet his again.

  “You were saying, Fleur…?”

  Ah yes, a spanking or his belt? “Yes, Sir. I think, if it’s all right with you, I would prefer you to use your hand, please.”

  “Of course. May I ask why you chose that?”

  He could ask, certainly. She might struggle to answer. She knew she had to try, though—he would insist on that much.

  “Because I am afraid. I am afraid of both, but less of you, of your hand. You will be able to control, to know…”

  “Be under no illusion, Fleur, I will be in absolute control, whichever method of punishment you select. A spanking with my hand is not a soft option—I can hurt you. I will hurt you. I intend you to learn from this so it will be a memorable experience.”

  Fleur swallowed hard, her pussy clenching and dampening even as her heart sank at his words. She was experiencing a confusing, chaotic reaction, erotic lust tinged with a healthy apprehension. But she knew, in the very pit of her stomach, where dread was even now transforming into something else, that she would not back out. She wanted this, wanted to feel it, experience it, hurt from it and learn from it. And she wanted him. It was really very simple.

  “I do understand that, Sir.”

  He regarded her silently for a few moments, seemed to be assessing. At last, satisfied perhaps that she did indeed understand her situation, he nodded briefly. “Good. We’ll do this outside, I think. Come with me.”

  He stood and walked away from her, heading for the French window leading out to the internal courtyard. Fleur replaced her teacup on the tray before her and got to her feet. Silently, she followed him.

  Ethan sat on one of the several seats arranged around the courtyard. He beckoned Fleur to him as she hesitated by the door, her back to the cool interior of the riad. It was already approaching thirty degrees outside and he had chosen a spot in full sun. She was sure this was deliberate to afford him an even better view of her bottom, unimpaired by shade. She moved forward to stand besi
de him.

  “Are you wearing underwear?”

  “No, Sir. I do not have any, apart from the pants I wore yesterday and they are no longer clean.”

  “I see. Would you like me to buy you some fresh ones? I’m sure one of the boutiques in the hotel can supply what you need.”

  She wondered what he would choose for her. “That would be very helpful, Sir. Thank you. I have the money. I would not expect you to pay for my clothes.”

  His sexy smile went some considerable way toward melting her insides entirely. Perhaps this spanking would not take long, then…

  “Consider it a parting gift, Fleur. I’ll see to it. Now, please position yourself across my lap and raise the shirt above your waist.” He looked up at her expectantly. She knew better than to cause him to ask twice.

  Leaning across his lap, Fleur lowered herself onto his knees. She wriggled a little, settling. The unfamiliar position felt oddly comfortable. She squeezed her buttocks together experimentally, though what she hoped to discover was somewhat beyond her in that moment. Remembering the rest of her instructions, she reached for the hem at the back of the shirt and lifted it to the small of her back.

  The sun’s warmth caressed her naked bottom, gentle heat that would shortly become searing—with or without the aid of Ethan’s hard, heavy palm. The irrelevant thought fluttered through her consciousness that, as far as she could recall, she had never bared her skin in the full sunshine. Not totally, not like this. Ethan was certainly using all the props at his disposal to make this occasion special for her—unique, in fact. And she had a suspicion that he was nowhere near done yet.

  Fleur squeaked as Ethan’s hand connected with her buttock, though this was not a slap. He stroked her, the sensation erotic and tender. Her response was born out of surprise, not pain.

  “You’re trembling, Fleur. I know you can’t be cold.”