A Talent for Surrender

by Madeline Bastinado

  She had an hourglass figure that had always reminded Dan of Hollywood actresses of the 1950s like Jane Russell or Ava Gardner. She looked strong and powerful and all woman. He leaned forwards and laid a hand on each of her hips. He brought his face to her crotch and inhaled deeply. He opened his mouth and tongued the top of her cleft, finding her clit. Her body juddered. He laid a tender kiss on her pussy then sat back on his heels, looking up into her face.

  Dan took off his glasses. He folded them and put them into his shirt pocket then unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers. He pulled the tails out of his trousers and tossed it aside. He stood up and unzipped his fly. He pushed his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, pausing to undo his shoes and kick them off. He straightened up, naked.

  His cock was standing out in front of him, hard and purple. He could feel the blood pumping under the skin. Sarah took his hand and pulled him over to the bed.

  She sat down then lay back and put her feet on the edge of the bed. She spread her legs. Dan gave his cock a long slow stroke. He sighed as the foreskin slid over his helmet and back. He dropped to his knees.

  ‘I’m not quite sure what it is you want me to do.’ He stroked her thighs with his fingertips and her body quivered.

  She raised herself up on one elbow. ‘Stop teasing. I want an orgasm and I want it now.’

  Sarah’s lips were swollen and dark. The cleft between them was purple and glistening. Her clit stood out, engorged and obvious.

  ‘That’s the trouble with you –’ he ran his tongue along the length of her pussy, making her gasp ‘– you want it all and you want it now. You’re a filthy, cock-hungry slut who’s obsessed with her own cunt.’ He covered her clit with his open mouth and circled it with the tip of his tongue.

  He felt Sarah’s body stiffen. He could taste her salty moisture. His mouth slid against her slippery flesh. Dan’s cock was rigid.

  Dan spread her lips with his fingers and lapped at her clit. Sarah was moaning and gasping. Blood throbbed in his ears. His balls ached.

  Sarah’s clit was hard and tense in his mouth. He reached up and found a nipple. He pinched it, twisting and pulling. She let out a long animal roar and arched her back. Delicious tingles travelled up his nape and over his scalp like ghostly fingertips.

  He squeezed her nipple. Sarah moaned and thrashed. He wrapped his free hand round her hip and held onto her. Dan sucked on her clit and flicked his tongue over the sensitive tip. Sarah began to rock her hips. He matched her rhythm. Her pussy felt hot and slippery. Her clit twitched in his mouth.

  He gave Sarah’s nipple a final pinch and slid his hand back down between her legs. He slid two fingers inside her. He pressed his fingertips hard into her G-spot and she raised her bottom off the bed, gasping and panting. His cock was pumped with blood and heat.

  He slid in a third finger and fucked her slowly as he sucked on her clit. Sarah’s hips pumped, rubbing her crotch against his eager face. He lapped at her hot cunt. He could feel her muscles gripping his fingers.

  Hot breath gushed down his nose as he licked her. He was tingling all over. His cock was on fire.

  Sarah’s body had begun to buck. The bed creaked and squealed. Dan held onto her hip. He pressed his face against her crotch, sucking on her clit. Her muscles gripped his fingers, hard as iron.

  ‘I’m going to come . . . I’m going to come . . .’ Her voice was high and urgent.

  She began to wail. She ground her crotch against Dan’s mouth. Her clit danced in his mouth. Her muscles gripped his fingers. His cock was rigid and tingling. Prickles of excitement slid down his spine.

  The bed squeaked and shook. He struggled to keep his grip on her as she came. He kept his mouth fastened over her clit, sucking the orgasm out of her. He pressed the tips of his fingers against her G-spot. She sobbed and mewled. Her body was rigid and trembling.

  As soon as her muscles began to soften Dan released her. He slid out his fingers and gave her clit a final kiss. Sarah lifted her head off the bed and looked down at him.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ She sounded weak and exhausted.

  ‘I’m going to fuck you.’ He climbed onto the bed and Sarah slid across and lay on her back with her legs spread wide. He wrapped his fist around his cock and slowly stroked it. The tip was shiny and slippery.

  He shuffled forwards until he was between her parted thighs. He put a hand under each of her buttocks and lifted her up until her crotch was level with his erection. He used one hand to position himself and rolled up his hips, pushing into her. He sighed as he entered her. She felt fiery hot and soft and wet.

  Smudged mascara stained her face. Her normally sleek hair was messy and matted. Her nipples were thick and dark. Dan lifted her legs up over his shoulders and wrapped his arms round her thighs.

  His body was rigid with excitement. He was tingling all over. He moved his hips, sliding in and out of her hot cunt. The out-stroke was long and delicious and slow. He could feel her muscles squeezing him. On the in-stroke his foreskin slid back, revealing the tip of his cock so that it prickled with pleasure and sensitivity. Heat and pleasure coursed through his bloodstream.

  Sara slid her right hand between her legs and began to stroke her clit. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open slightly and Dan could see that her lips were puffy and dark. Now and again, he would get a glimpse of her glistening pink tongue between her perfect teeth.

  The headboard banged rhythmically against the wall. Sarah was rocking her hips, bringing up her crotch to meet his thrusts. Her breasts wobbled. Dan’s arms were wrapped around her thighs. He could feel the tension building in his gut. Where the back of her thighs slid against his body he was slick with sweat.

  Sarah was gasping and moaning; hoarse animal cries of passion and hunger. She ground her crotch against his, her fingers clamped over her clit.

  ‘You’re a filthy, horny slut and you can’t leave your cunt alone, can you?’ Dan’s voice sounded hoarse and breathless. ‘I can feel your muscles gripping my cock. You’re going to come soon. I know the signs.’ Dan pumped his hips, pounding her. ‘Your lips are all puffy and dark . . . you’re panting and moaning . . . You’re on the edge, I know you are. You’re going to come any second . . .’

  Her calves banged against his face. He held on, fucking her hard. His strokes grew shorter and more urgent.

  ‘Yes . . . it feels so good . . . I’m going to come . . .’ Sarah spoke in short strangled gasps.

  Dan’s balls banged against Sarah on every thrust. He could feel her fingers between their bodies as she worked her clit. She rocked her hips, grinding her crotch against him. Her tits bounced.

  Sarah’s moans began to rise in pitch and urgency. The sound seemed to fill the small room. Her body was rigid, her back arched. She let out a long single cry of alarm and relief. Dan felt her muscles gripping him as she came.

  He held onto her slippery thighs and pounded her hard. His hips pumped. He looked down at Sarah as she came. Her mouth was open, her neck stretched back. She was beautiful and she was coming. He was making her come.

  He gave one final deep thrust and exploded inside her. A hot wave of pleasure shot through him. He grunted through clenched teeth. He could feel his cock pumping out sperm inside her.

  Sarah was thrashing and trembling as she continued to come. Her hand was clamped over her crotch. She was covered in sweat. Her chest heaved.

  Dan’s body was shaking. His cock tingled. Wave after wave of pleasure and release crashed over him.

  When it was over they climbed under the covers and lay in each other’s arms. The sweat had cooled on his body, chilling him. He pulled up the duvet.

  ‘That was great.’ Sarah’s voice sounded dreamy. ‘But you should have hurt my nipples more.’

  Dan stroked her hair. ‘I don’t know. I give you two fantastic orgasms and you still want more. You’re insatiable.’

  ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing . . .’ She kissed his nipple.

  Sarah quick
ly fell asleep. Her hair was spread out over Dan’s chest, tickling him, but he daren’t move. He bent his head and dipped his nose into the thick perfumed mass. He inhaled. He could feel her big breasts squashed against his side.

  It had certainly been an exciting evening. He hadn’t seen so much bare skin in one room since he’d made the film about the nudists. But the two projects couldn’t have been more different. The naturists hadn’t struck him as sexy at all, in spite of the acres of naked flesh on display.

  He wasn’t sure why but he’d found the corsets, leather and rubber a thousand times more sexy even though most of the partygoers had been respectably covered. If he was going to get aroused every time the cameras rolled he might have to take up Sarah’s suggestion of a pre-filming wank.

  He smiled to himself. He felt fifteen again; plagued by unwanted erections he felt powerless to control and was convinced everyone could see. He hadn’t felt like that for years. But, as he thought about it, he realised that wasn’t true. He’d felt exactly like that sitting outside Jo Lennox’s office. Helplessly horny and certain she knew about it.

  She was a fascinating woman. He wondered if it was true, as Jim had implied, that she was kinky. She certainly seemed dominant enough and she was undeniably sexy. But – other than wishful thinking – he had no reason to believe that she was even interested in him, let alone involved in anything perverse.

  There was no reason why Jim shouldn’t know her. After all even kinky people sent their children to school. But Jim had said ‘everyone knows her’ which seemed to hint at something more, something Dan couldn’t help finding intriguing and exciting.

  He tried to picture her dressed in a corset, stockings and spike-heeled boots and, instantly, his spent cock began to stir. Dan gave it a lazy stroke. Sarah moved in her sleep, turning over so that her back was towards him. He curled up behind her. Her buttocks nestled into his lap and he closed his eyes.

  Five

  The taxi driver couldn’t stop looking at her. Every time they stopped at a traffic light Jo saw him watching her in the rear-view mirror. She was going to her best friend’s birthday party. Sam was a fetish fashion designer and she lived above her showroom in the King’s Road.

  Jo looked fantastic and she knew it. She was wearing a dress that Sam had made for her. It had a flouncy knee-length skirt and a sweetheart neckline. The waist was formed of a broad horizontal piece of leather that reached from the top of her hips to underneath her bust. It had been gathered into soft pleats, emphasising her curves and the soft swell of her belly. Underneath she wore a waspie corset that nipped in her waist.

  Sam’s assistant Victor had made a pair of shoes and a matching handbag and hat for her. She felt sexy and powerful and alive. She’d painted her lips in the same shade of scarlet as her outfit. The soft leather of her dress had grown warm in response to her body heat and lay against her skin like a soft caress. The corset gripped her body like a lover’s tight embrace. She crossed her legs, conscious of the driver’s eyes on her. Her stockings sighed softly as they slid against each other.

  ‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?’ She met the driver’s eyes in the mirror.

  He shrugged. ‘She did, but she’d obviously never met you. I just can’t help myself.’

  ‘I see . . . so you’re blaming me? The sin of Eve and all that.’

  ‘Let’s just say that if Eve had looked like you I’d have eaten every apple on that tree.’ The lights changed and the taxi began to move. At the corner, he turned into the King’s Road

  At Sam’s showroom Jo was greeted at the door by one of Sam’s models who reminded Jo of a human Barbie doll, tall, slender and impossibly big-breasted. She was dressed from head to toe in body-hugging rubber. On her head were a pair of pussy ears and she was wearing a long stiff tail.

  ‘You’ve got a long climb ahead of you, I’m afraid. Third floor.’ She handed Jo a glass of champagne. ‘Fuel for the journey . . .’

  Sam was Jo’s oldest friend. She was half French and half Scottish and owed her gamine features and effortless elegance to her French mother, and her heavy Glasgow accent to her father. She was a fashion designer, producing exotic sexy creations which were equally at home on the catwalk as at a fetish club.

  Sam was a creature of contrasts. She dressed to reflect her ever-changing moods. One day it might be retro chic, the next it could be goth or punk. She changed her hair colour every few weeks, often dying it a vivid unnatural shade to match her current outfit.

  Jo loved Sam’s many contradictions; her stylish clothes made her seem doll-like and untouchable but she was earthy and foul-mouthed. She knew good wine but preferred a pint of heavy. She made clothes out of leather and yet she didn’t eat meat.

  To the outside world the two women could not have been more different. Jo had a respectable job and a status within the community whereas Sam made kinky clothing for people society preferred to ignore. But they shared a love of clothes and an utter disrespect for society’s rules and roles.

  The only difference between them, Jo often reflected, was that her work forced her to live a kind of double life. At school she was the respectable headmistress but on her own time she was every bit as rebellious, individual and dangerous as Sam.

  Jo could hear a hubbub of voices and loud soul music as she climbed the stairs. On the first floor she bumped into Victor and his boyfriend J queuing for the loo.

  ‘Jo. You look fab.’ He air-kissed her.

  ‘Hi, Victor. Hi, J. So do you two.’

  Victor was dressed in a tiny pair of red leather shorts and an upper-body harness. J seemed to have been poured into a clinging black rubber garment that reached from his mid-thighs to his neck. His impressive muscles were emphasised by the outfit and, in the dim light, it seemed to be the same colour as his dark skin, giving the illusion that he was naked. It was so tight that Jo couldn’t help wondering how, when he got to the front of the queue, he could possibly manage to pee.

  She walked up the stairs towards the music. When she reached the third floor she looked around the room for Sam. The living room was decorated in purple and scarlet. There were silver stars on the ceiling and the furniture was an eclectic mixture of Victorian Gothic pieces and modern. For the party the room had been hung with hundreds of fairy lights, making it look exotic and mysterious, like the inside of a fortune teller’s tent.

  Jo spotted Sam on the other side of the room. She was dressed in a purple leather corset and matching spike-heeled boots which buttoned up the side like a Victorian lady’s. She was wearing a multi-layered chiffon miniskirt in mottled shades of purple, lavender and pink. It seemed to have been starched and stiffened and it puffed out around her hips like a diaphanous cloud. On her back, she wore a pair of matching tiny fairy wings. She was carrying a sparkly silver wand. As Jo drew closer, she realised that the wand was actually a riding crop with a star attached to its tip.

  Sam’s black hair had been cut into an asymmetrical bob and the front had been dyed the same shade of purple as her corset and boots. When she spotted Jo she waved her wand.

  ‘Hello.’ Sam smiled. ‘Do you know who you remind me of in that outfit?’ Sam was staring at Jo, her eyes wide.

  ‘Betty Grable?’ Jo struck a pose.

  ‘Almost. You look like a blonde Dita Von Teese. The way you clip up the front of your hair and everything.’

  ‘Really? You think so? Thanks. She’s really glamorous. And you look gorgeous too, Tinkerbell. Happy birthday.’ The two women kissed. She handed Sam a wrapped gift.

  ‘Thanks. We were still sewing on the wings when the first guests arrived.’

  ‘Well, they look lovely. And they suit you. You look as though you were born with them.’

  ‘Stick around. A few more glasses of bubbly and you might see me fly.’ Sam took a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. ‘Is it tomorrow you’re meeting Dan Elliot?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘And? I hope he’s as cute in the flesh.’<
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  ‘Cuter as a matter of fact. On screen he deliberately cultivates his boyishness. In real life he’s rather stylish and elegant. He’s quite a man, actually.’ Jo sipped her champagne.

  ‘I see . . . he’s obviously made an impression.’

  ‘Yes, he has, I suppose. I rather liked him. In real life he’s much more confident; a man in full possession of his personal power and authority.’

  ‘Just the way you like them. The more powerful they are the sweeter it is when you get them to submit.’

  Jo laughed. ‘I must admit it does sound tempting. But I have no idea if he’s even kinky.’

  Sam’s models, all dressed as cats, moved between the partygoers with trays of champagne and canapes. The other guests were a mixture of Sam’s friends and her clients and the dress code reflected the fact. Most were conventionally, if formally, dressed for a posh night out, but at least a third of the guests were sporting the type of fetish fashion Sam was famous for.

  It wasn’t often, Jo thought, that you saw two such contrasting styles of dress in the same room; usually it was one or the other. It seemed to represent a collision of two worlds and, while Jo was comfortable in both, she had to admit that she felt more herself – more whole – when she was able to dress in the type of clothes Sam had made her.

  The hat and the shoes made her at least eight inches taller. She towered over most men and, she had to admit, she rather liked it. The outfit made her feel sensual and elegant and strong. The corset pushed her breasts up and out and she was aware that men couldn’t seem to take her eyes off them. A waitress went by and Jo helped herself to another glass of bubbly.

  ‘Well, don’t you look fantastic?’

  Jo turned. ‘Jim. Thanks. Good to see you. Where’s Poppy?’

  Jim was dressed in black leather trousers and waistcoat. ‘She’s around somewhere. She’s fairly easy to spot. She’s got green hair this week and an outfit to match.’