Two Shades of the Lilac Sunset

by Rosen Trevithick

  Demi’s eyes twinkled. “Definitely sex.”

  Ross smiled.

  “I think really, it’s your duty to have sex with me as soon as possible, if we’re ever going to fix this.”

  Ross nibbled her outer ear “Is that so?”

  “And if you care about me at all, you’ll give me a proper seeing to.”

  “Perhaps today is the day we should try that thing we discussed but haven’t done yet …”

  “Mmm,” purred Demi, shivering.

  Ross brushed her lips with his, teasing her with the closeness. Demi smiled. He pretended he was going to kiss her again, then pulled away. When Demi attempted to kiss him, he grabbed her hands and held them above her head, holding his face just out of reach. Demi used all her might to lunge forward, planting one on his round nose.

  Ross laughed. “Go and kneel on the floor,” he said in the authoritarian voice that he knew Demi adored.

  “Right here?” she enquired, playing her part.

  “Right there.”

  Demi gladly got down on the floor.

  Ross knelt behind her. She could feel the warm tickle of his breath on her neck and she shuddered. He moved his lips closer, gently brushing her neck with his cupid’s bow.

  He slipped his hands beneath her shirt and slowly teased the sides of her body with feather-like strokes, as he eased up her white vest top. Demi could feel her nipples perk. When Ross removed her bra, the feel of the cotton rubbing across her nipples sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Lean forwards onto your hands.”

  Demi leaned until she was on all fours.

  Ross reached around her waist and unfastened the belt of her jeans. Demi loved the sound of the buckle clacking – a promise of what was to come. She stayed still, submitting to his will.

  He began working down her jeans. She felt a breeze on her buttocks – her knickers were coming off too. She straightened one leg, and then the other, as Ross finished exposing her legs and arse.

  Now completely naked, Demi was vulnerable and exposed – the condition she loved the most. Her senses were at their strongest. The smell of Ross’s musky sweat conveyed a sense of animal hunger. She waited for signs of Ross’s next move. Knowing his final destination intensified the feeling of defencelessness.

  Ross placed a finger on the nape of her neck and slowly ran it down her back – through her shoulder blades, between her kidneys and down towards her bottom. When he reached the cleft where her back became buttocks, he continued the line between her cheeks – not deep enough to touch what lay beneath, but a menacing threat of what was to come.

  “Wait there. And don’t move.”

  When Ross left the room, Demi realised for the first time that the window was open – not just the curtains, but the window too. She was going to have to be quiet so as not to attract attention. Although not visible to passers-by, she knew that anybody coming right up to the back door would be able to see her here, naked on the kitchen floor waiting for Ross to come back and fuck her. At least the onlookers would not know what he planned to do!

  Ross returned. He held a bottle of lube in front of Demi’s face, making sure that she had seen it. She groaned – that mixture of dread and yearning that churned her insides in such a delicious manner.

  Ross was behind her again. “Elbows on the floor.” As Demi obeyed, her arse tilted, exposing her further. “Now, straighten those arms out in front of you. You may rest your head on the floor if you wish.” Demi reached forwards with her hands, forcing her cheeks to spread, putting everything on display. The realisation made her judder.

  “Relax.” He’d seen it.

  Her face reddened.

  Demi felt Ross’s finger on the nape of her neck again, but this time it was covered in cool, wet lube. Repeating his earlier move, he traced the line of her spine. When he reached her crack she felt his finger slide across her rim and down towards the moist lips of her pussy.

  Ross began his stroke again, but this time from the bottom of her spine. He ran his finger between her butt cheeks. His finger lingered over her asshole. He traced the circle with the tip of his finger. At first she thought he was going to insert the digit and squeezed her eyelids together, preparing. Frustratingly he didn’t.

  He began massaging her buttocks with his hands. Demi felt lube squirted directly onto her skin. As Ross massaged, he pulled her cheeks even further apart. He groaned, telling her that he liked what he saw. Demi felt her muscles spasm again. She blushed, wishing that her arse would not make her feelings so obvious.

  Next she heard the glorious sound of another buckle clacking. She looked over her shoulder and could see Ross sliding down his jeans.

  “Did I say you could look around?”

  “No, master.”

  “Then put your forehead back on the floor, where it belongs.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Knowing that Ross was almost ready to take her arse, but not able to see what he was doing, drove Demi wild. She felt a cool splatter of lube squirted directly onto her anus. It wouldn’t be long now.

  She felt Ross’s erection prod one of her buttocks. Then he took his finger and traced her line again. He eased the tip of his finger into her arse, working in the lube. Oh, this is interesting … The feeling was familiar, but not reminiscent of sex.

  Ross withdrew his finger a little, then pushed it in a little farther. Demi’s eyes popped.

  He leaned forwards and Demi could feel his breath on her neck. “Are you ready for this?”

  “No,” she groaned, playing her part.

  “No?” asked Ross, moving away.

  “No, no, no! I was playing! If I meant ‘no’ I’d have said ‘turnips’!” she explained, referring to their safe word.

  Ross laughed.

  The moment had been ruffled but not destroyed. Ross leant forwards again, enclosing her body in his. She felt his thick chest hair create friction with her back. He kissed her neck. She felt his erection pressing against her crack – not quite the spot, but not far off.

  He grabbed Demi’s hips. The tip of his cock eased open her butt hole. She winced as she felt a brief stab. Ross withdrew and squirted a little lube onto the tip of his penis. He eased it in again. Demi felt herself stretching to accommodate him. Did he have to be so damned wide? Once again, he withdrew.

  On the third stroke, he pushed himself deeper into her. Every instinct in her body screamed ‘what the fuck?’ yet it didn’t particularly hurt – it just felt … counterintuitive. The most counter-fucking-intuitive thing in her life.

  He began to slide in and out of her. She felt her body relax and tense, alternating between the two to his rhythm. There was no poetry to it – at first, it reminded her of having a shit. However, instead of relieving herself, he controlled the relief. Instead of owning this sensation, as she had done every day since she was three, somebody else did.

  He slid in once more. The motion – the sliding, the stretching – was pleasant and made her tingle from her tailbone up to the nape of her neck. Her instincts screamed for her to push him out but with his hands firmly grasping her hips, she had to wait until he was ready. It was the hottest experience of her life.

  Evening of Wednesday 31st June – inside a penthouse on the Sea Front

  Nat had been noticeably frosty from the moment Willow arrived. She looked at her reflection in the enormous mirror above the mantelpiece. Had she got the outfit wrong? He’d asked her to arrive wearing just a 1950s trench coat, seamed stockings and a pair of Gucci pumps, which he’d bought for her. Was it the red lipstick that had put him off? She felt it completed the look, but perhaps he didn’t agree.

  She finally dared to ask, “Is everything all right?”

  “Perhaps you should ask Demi, since she seems to know more about me than I do, these days.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  I don’t. That’s why I asked. Willow put her memories through a
mangle. Was it something to do with those photographs the weekend before last? Surely that had all been resolved by now.

  “You told her details about us.”

  “Um …”

  “About our sex life.”

  Willow scanned her memory. She remembered telling Demi, through tears, that she had lost her virginity to Nat who had since buggered off. At the time, she had thought she might never see him again. Surely he didn’t object to that? “I don’t know …”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me.”

  “I’m not!”

  Nat frowned and perched on the edge of the sofa. “So you didn’t tell Demi that I like to handcuff you?”

  Did I? Willow thought about it. Eventually, she remembered her short conversation with Demi. She’d barely scratched the surface. “Only briefly.”

  “Briefly?” cried Nat, standing up glaring.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing! You can’t tell other people about things like that. Our sex life is private. You know how important privacy is to me.”

  “I only talked to my sister.”

  “Who talked to her boyfriend. The next thing I know, Ross is making a joke in public about handcuffs.”

  Willow felt a twinge of irritation – Demi should not have blabbed to Ross. “I won’t mention anything again.”

  “If you tell people about the type of sex we enjoy, they’ll misunderstand. They might think I’m abusing you. Your sister already has it in for me.”

  “I don’t think she does …”

  “You don’t seem to understand how serious this is! If the wrong person got hold of information, they could twist it to make me look bad.”

  “For spanking and handcuffs?”

  Nat let out a frustrated breath and walked over to the windows. He looked out, clutching the safely bar, as he often did when he was stressed.

  Willow went over to him. She ran the toe of one of her pumps up his leg. “What can I do to make you forgive me?” she asked in her best flirtatious voice.

  Nat brushed her off roughly. “I usually get my submissives to sign a non-disclosure agreement, but I thought you could be trusted.”

  Willow’s eyes widened. A non-what? Surely you couldn’t sign away your right to talk to your sister about sex?

  “Other people aren’t like you and me, Miss Cassidy. They don’t understand that there’s pleasure to be had in pushing boundaries.”

  “I promise I won’t say anything about our sex life to anybody. I didn’t know it was so important to you.”

  Nat turned back to face Willow. “This has gone on long enough.”

  Willow’s lower lip quivered as she asked, “What?”

  “This. You and me.”

  She felt a blood rush and steadied herself with the sofa.

  “There’s no structure. I told you at the beginning that I want a proper, bone fide submissive. If I had been able to train you properly, you would have known not to blab our intimate secrets. This trial period – this probation – has gone on long enough.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that it’s time for you to agree to my proposal. I want you to pledge yourself to me.”

  “I am yours.”

  “I want you to agree to be my submissive, to use as I wish.”

  There was a time when such a statement would have made Willow laugh out loud. There was a time when it would have appalled her. However, over the weeks, she had experienced more than just a flavour of what it would feel like to be Nat Gordon’s ‘bone fide’ submissive. She loved it when he fucked her – she liked many varieties of sex: intercourse, fingering, blow jobs … Spanking and bondage weren’t things she would have suggested herself, but now that she had experienced them, and then experienced them again, they were so intimately entwined with sex that they turned her on almost as much as sex itself. Was this agreement Nat seemed so set on really any different from what they were already doing? “Will anything change?”

  “Everything will change.”

  Willow studied him, wishing she spoke his language.

  “We’ll sit down together and I’ll tell you everything I expect from you. You will get a chance to tell me if there’s anything you don’t agree to. Then we’ll see if we’re compatible.”

  Willow thought about the time they’d had sex on the kitchen worktop, screwing so vigorously that a cafetiere had fallen off the draining board smashing into a hundred pieces. How could he think that they weren’t sexually compatible?

  Nat walked into the kitchen and emerged with two large wine glasses and a bottle of white. He walked over to his desk and turned on his monitor. “I’ll print a copy of the contract my last submissive agreed to. Of course, we will need to tweak it.”

  “You mean Katrina?” asked Willow, feeling a pang of fear. What if Katrina had agreed to things she would never want to do?

  “It doesn’t matter who. Other submissives are in the past. The past is gone. This is between you and me.” He poured two large glasses of wine and invited Willow to join him at his desk – surprisingly formal. “The opening just defines a few terms, describes the times when you agree to be available to me and stresses that your safety will be of paramount importance to me. I will not let any harm come to you, if you sign this agreement.”

  And if I don’t?

  “This is the important bit – this list of hard and soft limits.”

  “Right …”

  Nat went through the list ticking ‘vaginal penetration’, ‘oral penetration’ and a few other things they’d already tried and enjoyed. Then he ticked ‘photographs’.

  “I’m not sure about photographs.” She remembered the time he snapped her on his phone. “I wasn’t keen.”

  “Hmm … It would seem a shame not to use that expensive camera I bought you.” He kept ‘photographs’ ticked and moved onto the next item: ‘anal penetration’.

  She folded her arms. “No.”

  “I can understand why you might think you don’t want to, but trust me, it can be very enjoyable.”

  “It’s not for me.”

  “I’ll train you for it. Step by step. That’s why this contract is so important – so that we can see the things you’re ready for, and the areas where you’ll need a little more time.”

  He checked ‘spanking’, ‘paddling’, ‘whipping’, ‘caning’. “They’re more or less the same thing.”

  Are they?

  “Crawling.”

  “I’m not keen on crawling.”

  “That’s staple Dom-sub fodder,” he cried, exasperated. “Jesus, Miss Cassidy. We can’t do this at all if you’re not prepared to go down on your hands and knees.”

  Willow thought about it. Perhaps she wasn’t being adventurous enough.

  “Now, biting. Are you up for a bit of biting?”

  “Biting?”

  “Okay. Not heavy biting. Shall I’ll put you down for light to moderate biting?”

  Willow took a gulp of her wine.

  “Come, sit on my lap.”

  Willow was hesitant.

  “We’re creating something beautiful. You should be in my arms.”

  Willow smiled and joined him on his fancy, leather, reclining swivel chair. He kissed her gently on the lips. “See, this isn’t too bad, is it?”

  She tried to kiss him back but his lips were now on her neck. She felt his teeth press gently against her skin. She tingled. He worked his mouth down to her shoulder, brushing with increasingly intense strokes of the teeth. Gently, he gripped a mouthful of flesh between his teeth. It didn’t hurt but made her squirm. She moaned, excitedly. So he did it again. This time, he clamped his jaw over her collarbone; it hurt like fuck.

  Willow jumped away. “What level of biting would you call that?”

  “Moderate.”

  “Then change that to ‘light nibbling’.”

  Nat edited the contract and moved on to ‘scratching’. The contract was long and seemed unnecessa
rily wordy. He topped up Willow’s wine as he explained hard and soft limits.

  By the time they got onto sex toys, Willow was feeling a little tipsy. The items seemed to blur together. What was the difference between a dildo and a vibrator? Weren’t they the same thing? Had Nat already explained that?

  He headed to the kitchen, taking both empty wine glasses with him. Willow took the pen and began scribbling. When Nat returned, he looked surprised. “Adding a few kinks of your own?” He passed her a refilled glass.

  “Yes,” said Willow, pointing to a list she’d added to the end.

  “‘The sub shall be kept in Belgian chocolate’?” he read out. “How would that work, Miss Cassidy. Would you like to be encased in the stuff?”

  Willow giggled. “I demand a daily supply.”

  Nat gave her an appreciative kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He moved onto the next item. “Does that say ‘girlfriend’?” He wasn’t smiling.

  “Well?” demanded Willow, with her most charming smile.

  “I thought I explained that I don’t do relationships, only agreements.”

  “But I practically am your girlfriend,” Willow pointed out. “We have sex, we go on dates, you said yourself that it’s exclusive.”

  Nat ignored her and moved onto the next item. “No, you cannot sleep in my bed.”

  Willow felt as if somebody had dropped a brick on her chest. He wanted her to agree to fifty varieties of bedroom activity, yet nowhere near a bedroom. “But it’s ridiculous, me sleeping on the sofa.”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ll make up the spare room for you. I’ll even paint it for you. You can have any colour you like!”

  Willow felt short-changed. Then she remembered the words she’d overheard him say to Katrina. ‘Willow’s different. I’m falling in love with her.’

  Willow glanced up and down the list once more. The entire document was about their sex life – their exclusive sex life. Surely this was a relationship. If not, it was certainly a good building block.

  ‘I’m trying to tell you that you’re the girl of my dreams, Miss Cassidy.’