Intimate Exposure

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Intimate Exposure Page 7

by Portia Da Costa


  “Why don’t you touch yourself and see?”

  Here we go again.

  Adjusting herself in the Loom chair, she plucked at her kimono. Then suddenly halted.

  Her inconvenient stubborn streak flared again. These games were always all one-way. She was the one who was showing everything. She was prepared to play along with Red’s desires, because they were hers too. But she was also curious. The man sitting just a few feet away was exciting and bizarrely beautiful in his own massive, primal way. She wanted to see more than just those strongly molded, slightly hair-fuzzed calves.

  “Why does it always have to be me doing all the showing? You’ve seen my breasts and…and my sex, but I haven’t seen anything of you.”

  Red chuckled, and his tongue flicked out over his lower lip as he grinned.

  “I thought you wanted to play games of submission, Vicki? As a rule the master only reveals himself when, and if, he chooses to. You shouldn’t really have a say in things.”

  Vicki held his gaze. And smiled. The merriment in his bearded face was infectious.

  “I’m not an O, Red. That’s not really me, and I’m only a learner anyway.” Her heart thudded, daring flared up. “Go on, cut me some slack… Just show me some flesh, and I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on and do exactly what I’m told.”

  “You’re impertinent, and you’ll be punished for this—” he paused, still smirking, “—but because you’re a very rare and special woman, I’ll indulge you.” Laughing softly and shaking his head, he reached for the sash of his robe and unfastened it. Quirking one dark brow, he flipped the white garment open.

  The image on the television faded from Vicki’s consciousness. Who even cared what was going on? There was nothing she wanted to look at now except Red’s body.

  His chest and torso were solid and powerful, but unable to help herself, she zeroed in immediately on his cock. And gulped.

  He was a tall man. Well over six feet. And his penis was in proportion, maybe more so. He wasn’t erect yet, but even just perky, it rested against the sculpted musculature of his thigh, large and latent. Vicki swallowed again as she imagined him inside her, stretching her every which way as he thrust and thrust and thrust.

  God, I don’t care if you are supposed to be my master. I’ve got to have you, and I can’t wait much longer.

  “Very nice,” she said crisply, wanting to giggle.

  Red Webster might be mysterious and full of sexual authority, but in one thing he was just like any man on the planet. He was inordinately proud of his equipment.

  “Well, I’m so glad that you approve, Vicki,” he shot back at her, his devilish eyes glittering behind his spectacles. “But remember, you have to obey me now.”

  “Yes, I get that.” She couldn’t take her eyes off his cock, though. It was starting to thicken and rise in a way that took her breath away.

  Vicki had never slept around, but she’d made love with one or two boyfriends in her time and had always subscribed to the “it’s not the size that counts” credo. But now, watching the magnificent rise of Red’s erection, she began to waver.

  A cock that size would make a difference. Especially if, as she knew in her heart, Red knew exactly how to use it to drive a woman crazy. Good Lord, the man was an unrepentant sensualist. There could be no doubt that he fucked just as skillfully as he spanked.

  “In which case, you should also get that your insolence is inappropriate.”

  The words were soft, yet they tolled around the airy Modernist room like a bell. Vicki swallowed, feeling his spell bind her again. Her heart beat like the wings of a panicked bird, and her thoughts did too. It was difficult to keep a hold on them when, in the chair across from her, Red had started caress himself slowly and lazily. She took a deep breath, afraid that if she didn’t maintain some kind of grip on herself, she’d just fly apart at the seams.

  “Y-yes, I’m sorry,” she whispered, straightening in her seat, suddenly feeling as if she had to present herself correctly. Just like the girl on the screen. Red hadn’t asked her to do anything yet, but it was coming. God, how it was coming.

  He gave her a long, steady look, almost peering over the top of his glasses as his large, deft fingers continued to move. Then his head inclined, as if he were prompting her somehow.

  “I’m sorry, master.”

  Now it was her own words that made her feel faint with desire and longing. She’d named his status, making the clichéd title real.

  “Good.” There was note of contentment in his voice as he peered down at his own groin. Was he admiring himself or merely monitoring his progress? He continued to study his cock as he spoke again. “Now remove your robe and then come over here.”

  Vicki slid the wrap off her shoulders, unfastened the sash and pushed the panels of patterned silk from her body. Shrugging it away entirely, she rose naked from the deep chair and took a step towards Red.

  Only to have him stop her with a raised hand. His right one. His left still worked rhythmically, back and forth.

  “On your knees, my dear. And be careful of the carpet. I wouldn’t want you to burn your pretty white skin.”

  Drawing in a deep breath to center herself, Vicki sank down to the floor, then began to crawl as elegantly as she could across the carpet. She focused hard on its pattern of black chevrons on pistachio, not daring to look up.

  “Stand,” he said when she reached him. Disappointment surged through her. As she’d crawled, she’d been anticipating the flavor and texture of his cock, longing to suck him.

  “All in good time,” he said, and when she stole a glance at his face—something that was probably forbidden now—he was smiling knowingly.

  Damn you and your mind-reading tricks.

  Her body and her heart might be obeying the unspoken code of conduct, but her mind remained free and defiant, despite her subservience.

  “You have to obey instructions, Vicki, or the game doesn’t work properly. I thought you understood that.” He paused and made soft sound of satisfaction. The fabric of his robe rustled against the weave of the chair as he adjusted his position. “Now, are you ready to follow a few commands?”

  She nodded.

  “Good girl. Now stand up straight, shoulders back… That’s it. Show off those adorable breasts of yours. That’s better. Now look at me.”

  Vicki obeyed, or at least tried to. Her eyes kept skittering from his face to his groin, and she bit her lip from the effort of trying to control herself.

  “My eyes, Vicki. Not that.”

  Red’s voice was quiet and solemn, but in those strange eyes he’d instructed her to focus on there was laughter. He was having a high old time with her, ordering her about, treating her like a bad girl and pleasuring himself into the bargain.

  He doesn’t actually take this entirely seriously.

  Knowledge gave her equilibrium, the strong center she needed. She schooled her face into a mild, biddable expression, but beneath that she smiled too, laughing inwardly, just as Red was. In the fiery depths of his eyes there was recognition. His intuition, balancing her own.

  “Now stroke your breasts. Both of them at the same time. I want to see those gorgeous nipples really stand out.”

  As Vicki did as she was bidden, intense sensations streaked through her body. Her clitoris leapt, just as if she were touching it too. Delicious tension seemed to balloon between her thighs, and the need to spread her legs and move from one foot to the other became almost unbearable.

  No, don’t give in. Don’t let him maneuver you into disobeying him.

  Fondling her breasts and feeling rude and provocative, Vicki held herself otherwise quite still. It was a question of maintaining a good form. As if she were some prized pet, exhibiting herself for the chief judge in a show.

  Red pursed his lips, as if he were trying to stop himself grinning. The fact that he was struggling too made him all the more exciting.

  “Well done, my dear.” The slight unsteadiness in his vo
ice was like a secret thrill, stroking her clit. He was moving just a little in his chair too. Not exactly exhibiting perfect form himself.

  “Now put your foot up on the chair arm, and touch yourself between your legs.”

  This time his tone was level. He’d clawed back his total control, and with breathtaking speed. Now his voice was light and cool, his eyes narrow behind his glinting spectacles. His demeanor was sterner now, rock steady even if feigned. The fact that he was still stroking himself, rubbing at his cock quite fast, made his ability to command himself, as well as her, even more impressive.

  Oh, he’s so much further ahead in this than I am. He’s done this for years. He can dominate a woman as easily as he breathes.

  Summoning a massive effort, fighting for her own control and balance, Vicki placed her foot on the arm of Red’s chair. The action produced a whisper of coolness between her legs, but when she slid her fingertips between the lips of her sex she found an inferno, a simmering lake of moisture. She was so slippery her fingers slithered about, and she had to concentrate to maintain contact with her clitoris.

  “Rub yourself a little.”

  She obeyed, unable to stifle a gasp. She was hovering on the precipice of orgasm. Biting her lip, she circled the tip of her finger around and over the tiny bud of flesh. She barely needed to tease and tantalize at all. Release was barreling towards her like a great unstoppable wave.

  As her sex quivered, she groaned, unable to contain herself.

  “Have a care, Vicki.”

  So quiet. So ominous. So thrilling.

  She dug her teeth right into her lower lip, combating the urge to come with a small, self-induced pain.

  “That’s better.” His voice sounded milder now, and kinder. He would never ever need to shout. It was all done with subtle and skillful understatement. He was a prince amongst masters, rare and exceptional.

  Not having an orgasm was now becoming a far greater agony than any kind of spanking or other punishment. She almost wanted to plead with him, with her eyes, but her bone-deep stubbornness wouldn’t let her.

  Red was no longer actively caressing himself. He was more relaxed, more at ease, and as he sat back, his amazing cock cradled casually in his hand, he looked beyond Vicki to the scenario on the screen.

  “Mmm… You’re missing this. It’s very good. Do you think I should allow you to watch too?”

  I don’t give a damn. Just let me come.

  But she remained silent.

  “It’s okay, you can speak, Vicki. Do you want to see what’s happening?”

  No, I only want to look at you. For as long as you’ll let me.

  “Yes,” she squeaked, disturbed by her thoughts. She was becoming fixated. “Y-yes, please. If that’s all right.”

  “We’ll watch it together, then, shall we?” His eyes as good as sparkled, filled with the very essence of devilment.

  Vicki almost swayed and was forced to set her foot back on the carpet. She felt as if she were rocking on a ledge, everything in her ready to jump. This man was dangerous, exasperating and secretive. He should carry a public health warning.

  Yes, do have a care, Vicki. Remember this is just fun. A man like Red Webster is a disaster zone for a woman’s peace of mind.

  But the inner warning claxon was sounding. She was already in dangerous territory.

  “Vicki, are you all right?” His voice was almost sharp with concern and completely out of his role.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped back, still unsettled. She brought her head up boldly, vowing that he must never, ever realize how profoundly susceptible she was becoming to his charms. “I just need to sit down. Can we get on with this?”

  Red studied her for a moment, his glance flicking to her eyes, then her mouth. Gauging, monitoring, assessing.

  Finally, he smiled, as if satisfied that the game could proceed. Vicki was amazed that she’d managed to hide the Tilt-A-Whirl of her own emotions, but it seemed that she’d managed to fool him.

  “Of course you must sit down. I know just the place.” His sensuous mouth quirked, as full of mischief as his eyes were. “Come here.”

  He took hold of her arm with his warm elegant hand and began to maneuver her into position. Guiding her carefully, he faced her away from him, then made her part her legs and squat across his thighs.

  As she waited, the soft inner skin of her own thighs tickled by the hair on his, she felt him searching in his robe pocket and pulling something out. A moment later, after a series of small movements behind her, a small foil wrapper fluttered to the carpet.

  “Now, let’s get comfy, shall we?” he murmured into her ear, and without further ado, he took her firmly by the hips and moved her until she was poised over his condom-clad erection.

  With a breathtaking precision—a nudge here, a hitch there—he slowly and relentlessly lowered her aching pussy down onto the great prow of his penis.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God!

  The stretching and adjusting seemed to go on and on and on. He’d looked big, but he felt…oh, he felt enormous. She could almost imagine that he filled her up completely inside and that there was room for nothing else. That he was possessing not only her body but her entire spirit. Her soul.

  Careful, careful, careful. Remember. Just pleasure, just fun.

  “There, how does that feel?”

  “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m going to split in two.”

  “Well, I’m flattered, Vicki, but if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.” He was teasing, but she also sensed a note of seriousness.

  “I’ll stay.”

  “That’s good.” His breath was hot against the back of her neck, and as he adjusted his position in the chair, the slight movement seemed to ricochet around inside her. “Now watch the show.”

  Watching an erotic floorshow was suddenly the last thing she wanted to do. She’d said she wanted to stay, but a part of her wanted to flee the room, take out and examine her feelings and give them a damn good talking to.

  She was insanely attracted to this impossible and perplexing man, probably the last one on earth with whom she should get involved. This was a weekend fling, as casual as casual could be, and afterwards they’d go their separate ways. Red had said so. She’d agreed. Simple.

  “What will it take for you to relax, Vicki?”

  Large hands settled on her body. One cupping a breast, the other sliding between her legs. His beard brushed against the side of her face, soft as he pulled her back against him.

  “Just go loose, sweetheart. Let me pleasure you. Watch the screen.”

  His low, sweet words calmed the insane whirl of her thoughts. There was nothing to be gained by fighting the enveloping sensuality. Why worry about anything when she was sitting on a man’s lap with his imposing and very fabulous penis lodged deep inside her?

  And his hands were working magic, making wonder.

  Observation had told her that Red was left-handed, but he seemed to possess exquisite skills and demonic talents with both his hands.

  Slowly, sublimely, he began to play with her nipple, gently circling, twirling, strumming until liquid jolts of sensation shot from one site of pleasure direct to the other. A zone where he was manipulating her with even greater and more tantalizing precision. His fingers were long, but moved with a surgical delicacy, exerting exactly the right amounts of pressure and friction on her clit.

  He was teasing, teasing, teasing. But in the best possible way. Vicki’s spirit rose and drifted upwards in a dreamy haze as her body began to bear down in an attempt at the impossible. Which was to work Red’s sublime cock ever deeper into her body.

  He didn’t thrust. He didn’t have to. His presence alone was dynamic. Lights blossomed in her head and she acknowledged her own act of disobedience. She wasn’t watching the action on the television as she’d been instructed. She was her own show. With Red.

  It was almost too much. A stimulus too far. Red Webster was an erotic force that tested the limi
ts of the senses. Vicki kept her eyes closed and laid her fingers over his. Not to encourage him or guide him. There was no need. Everything he was doing was perfect. All she wanted to do was to caress him in return and pay homage to the powerful muscles and sinews that pleasured her.

  Her own inner muscles began to tighten around him. Her sex was gathering itself, on the brink of some mighty cataclysm. She was almost there, every nerve screaming for release.

  Then he kissed her, and the featherlight touch of his lips against the side of her throat tipped her over.

  She orgasmed violently. Intensely. Almost painfully.

  As her flesh beat and clenched around him, she was dimly aware of his hand sliding down from her breast to her hip and holding her tightly.

  Still climaxing, she heard herself shout and moan and whimper as his powerful hips lifted beneath her, pushing, pushing, pushing, until suddenly, he too cried aloud and arched up convulsively out of the chair.

  “Oh Vicki,” he groaned and joined her in oblivion.

  What happened just now? What the hell was that? That was more than sex.

  Red slumped in the chair, his hands still folded around Vicki at hip and sex. He felt as if he’d been dragged backward through a hurricane, completely sideswiped by the unexpected intensity of the orgasm they’d just shared.

  He’d planned another little game for them. A test of Vicki’s ability to obey him while distracted. A chance to lay his hand across that sublimely curved bottom of hers and make it pink and pretty as she wriggled and moaned. He’d pictured her across the back of the very Lloyd Loom chair he was crashed out in—they were crashed out in—her beautiful rump offered up to him while he asked her questions about the action on the television screen. He’d imagined the piquancy of her attempting to answer his interrogation while she was being punished, and afterwards, while he pleasured her with a sex toy.

  It hadn’t been his intention that they should end up fucking. Well, not just yet. He often didn’t fuck his spanking and bondage companions at all. Penetration seemed far too intimate when all both parties wanted was a brief interlude of sophisticated power play.

 

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