Turning the go-stay option over, Vicki risked another quick look his way and found that mercifully he wasn’t watching her anymore. He seemed lost in his warm-up, completely unaware of her.
Oh hell, I should have gone…I should have just gone.
Red Webster had an amazing body, and it was even more impressive in workout clothes than it appeared in his usual uniform of jeans, dark sweater and leather jacket. He was big, in every sense of the word. Immensely tall, well over six feet, and broad and beautifully set up in proportion. His chest was massive and deep, and his arms and legs powerful and nicely muscled. He wasn’t a steroid-pumped bodybuilder, but everything about him exuded a supreme strength combined with agility and control.
Control.
That word again. Red Webster was the embodiment of it, and every time she thought of it, and him, it made her quiver. And as if he’d heard it too, Red Webster paused in a long, smooth stretch and glanced her way again. His gaze tracked from her to her gym bag, and, as if he’d read her every intention, he abandoned his routine and strode over.
“You’re not thinking of leaving yet, are you?”
Mischief lights danced in his eyes like sparks, and she had the distinct impression that he could see her just as well without his glasses as with them.
“Yes, I am. I’ve done what I came here to do.”
“You haven’t done a cooldown yet. You need to stretch and get loose and relaxed just as much after a workout as before it.” He looked her up and down as if assessing every last inch of her and not just the state of her muscles. “You wouldn’t want to get a muscle cramp in the middle of one of your high-powered meetings, would you?”
Damn you.
The words were silent and wrought as much by shock as anything. That exact thing had actually happened to her once, when she’d rushed from the gym without cooling down properly. It was almost as if Red Webster had been there and seen her, later, fighting the agony of cramp in her calf muscle.
“I was planning to stretch out a bit, actually, Mr. Webster…before you interrupted me.”
Oh, why in God’s name am I acting like a brat? I’m playing right into his hands.
Right where you want to be, her own inner demon pointed out almost immediately.
Time seemed to stretch out too, and she couldn’t move. Just as if she were already afflicted with one gigantic muscle cramp that had immobilized her entire body.
“I’ll help you.” He picked up his glasses and popped them back on again. “I’m good at this sort of thing.” His mouth curved as he strolled towards her, making him look suddenly utterly sensual. “I’ve done a lot of physical training in my time.”
Oh dear Lord, I’ll just bet you have done, that true interior voice responded with feeling. And nothing to do with working out with weights.
She experienced a moment of fight-or-flight reflex, knowing that if she lingered she was committing to far more than a few stretches. But still she stayed where she was. If she went now, she would regret it. She would miss something. Something her mind wasn’t yet ready to articulate, but her body knew.
She had to prove she wasn’t afraid of him too, or more accurately that she was afraid, but she was game to take him on despite the fear.
“Okay, then.” C’est la vie.
He made her sit on the mat, and hunkered down there with her. Then he proceeded to put her body through a series of the simplest but most astonishing manipulations, pulling on her limbs, exerting equal and opposing forces. His touch was measured, balanced and totally authoritative, and despite her jumbled feelings, her muscles responded and began to relax and loosen in a way that was so delicious it was almost orgasmic.
“Roll over. Lie facedown,” he instructed at length. “I’ll give you a massage to get the last kinks out. There’s still a little bit of you that’s fighting me.”
Despite the protests that rose to her lips, she obeyed him. It was impossible not to. She was hypnotized by the touch of his hands, the glinting fire in his eyes and the sheer overpowering force of his personality.
If she’d thought his stretching regime was bliss, his massage skills quickly pushed her even nearer to paradise.
He worked her with the same understated competence, the massage vigorous but exquisite, alternating between going deep with his thumbs and loosening knots, and moving quickly up and down her back and shoulders with a brisk, percussive chopping action.
Presently, he segued downwards, beginning to work on her thighs and her buttocks.
At that point everything seemed to change.
Large hands settled on her bottom in an almost cradling gesture, fingers flexing as if to test the resilience of her flesh. All of a sudden, Vicki was tense again. Every nerve, every muscle locked in anticipation. Every thought and feeling suddenly focused on the touch of those hands. Every conscious, reasoning part of her switched off, and she ascended into an intense state of lightness and acceptance. Red Webster was handling her, and it was wonderful and she could believe he was the perfect master she’d longed for since she’d first understood the fantasy kink that really got her off.
“So, The Story of O?” His voice was soft. He no longer sounded like the Red Webster she was used to. “What do you really think of stories like that, Vicki? Have you ever played the game? Played for real?”
The words were quiet, but they cut through the air like a thunderbolt. There was nothing salacious, nothing put-on and nothing gloating or even teasing about the way he spoke.
But it was the voice of authority. Total and complete. Without her realizing it, he’d already taken charge, and she could no sooner refuse or deny him anything than she could stop herself breathing.
“No,” she whispered, wrenched by the bizarre compulsion to add the word master.
“Never?”
Awkwardly, against the mat, she shook her head, unable to trust her voice.
“Would you like to?”
His hands were still on her bottom, light as the touch of a butterfly yet latent with power. In the blink of an eye, they might strike.
Do I? Dare I? It might not be the slightest bit like I imagine it.
“Speak,” he went on, his voice still low but entirely changed in timbre. She had no choice but to obey. Sometime in the last few minutes, she’d passed through some kind of invisible barrier and was in an entirely different world.
“Yes.”
“Good. Good girl.” There was yet another nuance in his voice, an unexpected one this time. He sounded almost kind now. “Now get to your feet. We need to do this properly.”
Shaking, more from the loss of his touch than anything, Vicki struggled to her knees and gasped, astonished, when Red gave her his hand to help her up.
Prince Charming as well as master?
Red laughed softly and, touching her on the cheek, he made her turn towards him. His handsome bearded face was calm and benign as she stared up and up at him. Wearing her trainers, she was almost a foot shorter than he was.
“It’s not like that, you know, Vicki.” His thumb moved against her skin. “There’s no need for shouted orders and barked commands. All that bluster and faked anger is counterproductive.” His eyes gleamed. “We’re two adults here, doing something we both want. It’s not a battle, just a bargain. A temporary exchange of power.”
Vicki’s head seemed to go as light as a feather as she acknowledged a great shared truth. She’d given her power to him now. He could do anything with her, and yet she knew in the very pit of her soul that he would never actually do anything she didn’t want.
“Do you want to live really dangerously, Vicki?” he inquired, his dark gaze drifting towards the door.
No!
Vicki didn’t think she’d spoken, but even so, Red nodded sagely.
“Quite right. It’s too soon…and the wrong place…” He looked her up and down again, assessing but not judging. “Go to the bench over there, Vicki…and stand with your hands on your head.”
It req
uired several huge breaths for her to move. Her head seemed to spin. She’d never, ever in her life felt this excited before.
Walking smoothly and with as much grace as she could, considering she was trembling like a fool, she obeyed him, while he strode purposefully to door and shot the bolt. For a large man he moved far more lightly and swiftly than she could herself.
She’d barely had time to settle her linked hands on her head before he was back with her.
Vicki fought for control as he circled her, his head tilted to one side as he studied every part of her body. No touching yet, but his strange eyes seemed to caress as much as they scrutinized.
I wish I were slimmer. Tauter. Taller. I wish I’d put my best leotard on and not these ratty shorts.
“You’re perfect, Vicki.”
She nearly blurted out, “I beg your pardon?” but she knew somehow that she wasn’t expected to speak anymore. These were the rules. She had to be quiet, submissive and pliant. It wasn’t her place to question him.
And yet her heart sang on hearing his praise.
Then it leapt as he touched her.
His fingertips settled delicately on her breasts, testing the flesh as he’d tested the rounds of her buttocks. He didn’t grab or knead, but a dart of pleasure sprang from beneath the featherlight contact and sped instantly to the hot niche between her legs.
It took a supreme effort of will not to sway.
“Exquisite.” His fingers moved on, cruising over her slightly clad body, gently saying hello to her shape.
Vicki dare not look at him. It was forbidden to meet his eyes now he was her master. She trembled finely and studied the polished wooden floor of the gym as his hands slid beneath her vest, then her bra, to explore first one breast, then the other.
Still studying the knots in the shiny wood, she moaned out loud.
“Hush!”
His explorations moved on, and his fingers slid inside her shorts and knickers from the back to fondle her buttocks. Vicki bit her lips as he began to handle her more vigorously, taking obvious pleasure in manipulating her rear. He didn’t touch her pussy, but the tips of his fingers brushed dangerously near to it.
“Excellent.” Suddenly he was extremely close behind her. She could feel his breath flutter against the hair on the top of her head. “I think it’s time to begin, Vicki, don’t you?”
Do I speak now?
It seemed he wanted an answer.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Wonderful.”
As he removed his hands from inside her clothing, Red sounded happy. Joyous. Enthusiastic. And yet still there was the deep, deep thread of authority there.
“Very well,” he said, stepping away from her, “I’d like you to take off your shorts and your panties. They’ll only get in the way from now on.”
For a moment, Vicki’s nerve faltered. For a moment it was as if she was shifting to and fro between the special fantasy world and the real world. Red’s hand returned to her shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze, and she was strong again.
Schooling herself not to fumble or get her ankles caught in them, she stepped out of her flimsy shorts and her even flimsier panties and kicked them both aside. As no instructions had been given about her socks and running shoes, she left them on.
This is crazy. What am I doing?
Again her nerve faltered and she tipped between the two worlds. Again, Red steadied her, a gentle hand against her cheek.
“Hold fast, Vicki.” His low voice imbued her with all the courage she needed.
A moment later he was touching her again, hands returning to her bottom. Her naked bottom. He wasn’t looking at her, neither her pussy nor the flesh he was handling. No, his perceptive eyes were locked all the time with hers, monitoring her reactions as his fingers gauged the firmness and resilience of her buttocks.
“You’re perfect,” he said again. “I knew you would be the moment I set eyes on you.” Inclining forward, he pressed his mouth to hers in the softest of kisses. With his lips against hers, she could feel his breath and the words when he spoke again. “I guess you know what a safe word is? You should have one, especially if this is your first time.”
Safe word? Yes, that was right. She should have one, but her mind wouldn’t seem to supply anything. “I can’t think of one.”
She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. “That’s okay. Don’t worry. If you just say stop, I will. Or even if you just reach around and stay my hand.”
“Thank you.” She did feel safe. Despite everything, she did.
Red nodded. The boundaries were set. “Let’s begin, then, my sweet. I can’t wait any longer.”
Before she could take another breath, he had her by the hand as he sat down on the sturdy weight bench. For just a fraction of a second, he glanced at her exposed bush, his sensual mouth quirking ever so slightly. Then he was drawing her down, with a gentle but inexorable pressure, across his lap.
Vicki had long imagined what this would feel like. To be facedown across a man’s knees, her bottom presented for a spanking. She’d imagined fear, but somehow she didn’t feel it. She’d imagined embarrassment, and she did feel a little of that, but not in a bad way. Somehow there was a grace and a thrill to being presented and exposed like this.
“I can’t say it won’t hurt,” he said, his voice solemn yet weirdly benevolent, “because it will. Quite a bit. But you have to be brave and quiet and true, Vicki. Be a good girl and make both of us proud.”
He rested a palm on her left buttock for a moment, then lifted his hand and patted it down against her naked skin.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
I’m okay. I can cope. It can’t be much worse than this.
But as the moments and heartbeats ticked by, the pats increased in intensity, in purpose and in weight. Increased and increased until suddenly they weren’t pats anymore, and Vicki yelped in shock when the first real slap fell.
Oh God, it hurts! He’s right. It really, really hurts.
As if from a great distance she heard Red make a soothing, calming sound much like he would have made to a fretful child or a restive pet. But even as he gentled her, his hand fell again and again, and was not gentle.
Vicki’s entire consciousness seemed to have focused in her bottom, and her every thought and feeling seemed to be waiting for the next impact of Red’s hand. All her doubts and fears had vanished, expunged by the regular beat of the spanks that landed on her flesh. There was no room for worries about negotiations, or jobs, or jockeying within the company’s complicated hierarchy. These things were meaningless and without weight in the face of the impact of a hand upon a bottom.
But even as one set of stresses ebbed away, another, greater one gathered.
The heat in her buttocks was generating an even greater heat and tension in her pussy. The urge to reach beneath herself and touch her clit was enormous. It throbbed with each smack. Grew needier with each impact. The sudden tears that were dripping from her eyes were born of frustration, not pain.
And yet she dare not move a muscle. Much as she wanted to wriggle and play with herself, she knew it was forbidden. Red, her master, had bade her be still and quiet, and she had to try her best to comply. Even though it was hellishly difficult and she couldn’t contain her spontaneous moans and sobs.
At last, the spanking was over, and she didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. She didn’t know what she felt at all, other than a wild mix of desire, pain, triumph and pure wonder. The experience had been everything she’d fantasized about. But it was also different and more. Much more.
Her bottom hurt, but the crueler ache lay between her slowly working thighs.
What now? What do I do now?
Vicki’s thoughts were muddled but she couldn’t lie over Red’s lap like this forever. Even though in a sudden fantasy, a part of her wanted to.
She started to struggle, but almost before she’d begun to shift her weight in order to get up, strong hands had lifted her bodily and
placed her on her feet.
Standing between his spread thighs, shyness engulfed her, even though she’d bared her bottom and her pussy to him and let him punish her. Her eyes skittered about, fixing on anything in the room rather than meet his piercing gaze.
A big, warm hand settled on her ravaged bottom and she gasped and jumped in the air.
“How does it feel?”
At last she faced him, stunned and befuddled all over again by the shifting, demonic lights deep in his eyes.
My God, he’s as excited as I am.
Unable to help herself, she glanced downwards, swallowing at the sight of his erection pushing against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Like everything about him, it seemed massive and almost oversized.
“It—it hurts,” she breathed, at a loss for anything more eloquent. How could she think when her backside throbbed, her pussy was clenched and aching with longing, and her fingers were flexing of their own accord in readiness to reach for the magnificent cock that lay so temptingly close to them?
If I touch him, he might punish me again.
Her fingertips tingled with need.
And I don’t care. Bring it on.
But just as she began to stretch her hand forward, a shocking, totally alien sound intruded into her total concentration on Red and his penis and how it might feel both to her fingers and inside her.
Someone was banging on the gym door.
“Fuck!” Red growled, half frustrated, half laughing. “Caught in the act.” His face twisted in a gleeful smile of mock irritation, all white teeth and wry, sensual lips framed by the darkness of his rakish beard.
The knocking came again, and that, combined with Red’s confident smirk, fractured the spell of what had happened between them. Suddenly he was the teasing, aggravating Red Webster again, who liked nothing better than to flirt and annoy.
Intimate Exposure Page 3