‘I bet you give marvellous head,’ he said, easing her away from him. ‘I shall look forward to that. But first, I really want to punish you. Quite hard. Are you OK with that?’
Nodding furiously, she was too choked with lust to speak.
With a smile, he dipped down gracefully and unfastened her ankles from the chair. Again, it seemed bizarre that he should kneel before her, and yet when he straightened, he’d lost none of his dominant aura. He was the strangest master, not a bit like the way she’d anticipated a dominant man might be, but somehow his very unusual approach made him stronger rather than weaker.
He pulled her to her feet and drew her against him, holding her body tight to his as he took her in a rough, messy, annihilating kiss that decimated the finish of her clear lip gloss. His tongue owned her, and he held her head immobile, ravishing her mouth. When her arms lifted of their own accord to embrace him, he made a warning sound in his throat, then kissed her more savagely than before.
Against her belly, his cock was a knot of iron.
Then suddenly the kiss was over as abruptly as it had begun, and licking her gloss off his lips, John took her by the arm and propelled her to the bed. ‘Lie face down, pussy near the edge. Stretch your arms out in front of you. You can grab the duvet if you need to.’ As if she were an object, a doll, he adjusted her position as soon as she was prone, adjusting her thighs, parting them, making sure she was on show. The fact that she was fully clothed, apart from her bare bottom and her exposed pussy, only made her feel more deliciously subjugated. It was as if she was just an arse and a sex to him at the moment, the rest of her temporarily of little interest.
As he leant over her, she felt the brush of his floating shirt again. ‘Don’t feel you have to be stoic, Bettie,’ he said, drawing a fingertip down her bottom cleft and making her squirm. ‘In fact, I’ll enjoy it more if you cry . . . or maybe even scream a bit.’ His finger tickled her anus. ‘I’ve been told the sound-proofing in this place is second to none, so you won’t disturb anyone except me.’
Choked with lust, Lizzie rocked her pelvis against the bed. How could he stir her like this, with little touches, and soft, yet menacing talk? Her body was screaming already, aching for something to happen. She wanted to mash her sex against the mattress, work her clit against something, anything, and she could feel a wet patch forming on the duvet beneath her crotch.
She longed for him to push a finger into her vagina and fuck her with it, but though she had no doubt that in his eerie way he knew exactly what she craved, he didn’t oblige her.
In silence, he walked away, and she could hear him sorting through objects in the drawer. Choosing something to use on her? She’d half expected a hand spanking was coming first, but now she suspected something more severe. Wanted it, really. She was afraid of pain – in fact she’d always been a baby about it – but perversely she was longing for it too. For the new experience, for the test. She wanted no half measures, and she knew that John Smith would not short-change her. After all, he’d paid her a princely sum in order to do exactly what he wanted with her. And offered a generous bonus, in case he marked her.
Oh, bring it on, you devil! Bring it on!
She heard a swish of something in the air, and out of the corner of her eye she saw what was producing the sound. A ruler. A simple blue plastic ruler, one of the very same bendy kind they had at home, and which she used for quick measurements on dress patterns.
‘Do you need a safe word?’
What was he talking about? Then, it dawned on her. Goddammit, she was supposed to know all this stuff. It was supposed to be second nature. Straining to track him as he moved behind her, she could see the duvet out of the corner of her eye, and said, ‘Chintz!’
‘Good choice,’ he said, sitting down beside her, half twisted sideways on the bed. Face pressed to the duvet, it was difficult to see him, but his presence overwhelmed her. His weight at her side; the scent of him.
‘Your bottom is very beautiful, Bettie. But it’ll be even prettier when it’s red.’
With that he slapped down hard with the plastic ruler, right across the crown of both her buttocks, catching them both in one blow.
‘Yowch!’
It hurt, God how it hurt! The ruler wasn’t all that substantial but its flexibility gave an evil little flick to it. Radiant heat bloomed in her flesh, sharp and keen, making her wriggle.
‘Keep still,’ he ordered, placing his free hand flat on the middle of her back, then lashing her again, this time landing two or three swift blows in quick succession.
Grabbing the duvet, Lizzie tried to hold still, but it was a trial. The heat was furious, much more so than she’d expected. It wasn’t a bit like the pathetic, half-hearted spanking games she’d played with a boyfriend or two. This was real, unrelenting, and serious. John was working the plastic ruler methodically over her bottom, covering it in a pattern of strokes, not leaving any area unvisited.
‘Oh . . . Oh . . .’ she chanted, gripping fistfuls of the chintz duvet cover, straining every sinew to remain motionless but failing miserably. Her pelvis had a mind of its own, and she was circling and rocking, spreading her legs to try and rub herself against the mattress and get some ease for her throbbing clit.
John merely smacked her harder, catching her upper thighs above the tops of her hold-up stockings, angling the ruler to strike the inner slopes of her buttocks, close to her anus.
She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to go on and on. The blaze in her bottom was like white heat, warping her mind. Clutching madly at the bedding, she hauled herself forward a bit, got some purchase with her knees, then gyrated her hips, humping the mattress as the blows rained down. Her body in motion didn’t seem to distract John from his purpose in the slightest. He just kept spanking, and spanking, layering the smacks now, making redder the zones that were already red.
‘Come up on your knees now, Bettie, that’s a good girl.’ Manhandling her, he lifted her up, and she sobbed when his thumbs dug into her punished flesh. ‘I’ll do your thighs now,’ he said in an almost gentle voice, as if he were offering to apply sun cream or some other benison. In a couple of brisk jerks, he pulled down her stockings to the knees, then set about the tender skin of her thighs, lashing, lashing, lashing the ruler, patterning the newly revealed areas in just the way he’d already coloured her bottom.
‘Oh God, oh God,’ Lizzie chanted, burning with the flames of pain that licked her haunches. Yet still, she could feel her sex dripping, her arousal oozing down her legs, her labia puffed and pouting, her anus winking with each blow as she clenched herself. She was still moving when the ruler stilled, resting across her sizzling cheeks.
‘Had enough?’ Twisting, John inclined across her, then, with one last tap flung the instrument of her torment away. ‘I think I have.’ His lips settled against her hair, infinitely gentle. ‘You’re rather magnificent, you know. A natural. I’d never believe you were a working girl.’
She’d forgotten. She’d completely forgotten. Again. She’d been so into it, so swept away by the intensity. To her horror, a tear oozed out from the corner of her eye, running across her face.
John scooped up the moisture with his fingertip. ‘I hit too hard. Didn’t I? You’re not really into this.’ He leant and kissed the track of the tear, infinitely gentle.
For a moment, Lizzie felt as if she were floating up from the bed. She felt very odd. Even the burning heat in her bottom was distant. If she were to roll onto her back, reach up and draw John’s lips to her own, she had a feeling she’d barely register her spanking.
‘No . . . No, you didn’t hit too hard. Not at all.’ She rolled, then hissed between her teeth. Hah, she did notice the spanking. In fact she far more than noticed it, but still, the clear blue of John’s eyes, and the strangely solicitous expression in them over-rode the discomfort. ‘I liked it . . . I actually liked it a lot. So sue me if I’m a kinky whore who gets off on her work.’
John smiled, interesting crin
kles forming at the corner of his brilliant eyes. Why hadn’t she honed in on slightly older men before? The fit ones were devastatingly attractive. Especially the sophisticated blond variety who were in their forties and gorgeous with it.
‘I’m not complaining.’ He brushed her hair back from her face where the black strands lay across her cheek. ‘Why should I object to getting better value for money? A real response is worth a thousand feigned ones, and everything about you is a bonus, Bettie.’
‘Well, at the risk of this turning into a mutual admiration fest, you’re a pretty exceptional client, Mr Smith.’ It wasn’t a lie. He’d have been a gorgeous treat even if he wasn’t her only client, faux or otherwise.
‘Ah, but isn’t it in the escorts’ code that you have to tell all of us that?’
She guessed it was. Men always wanted to know that they were exceptional, even if they weren’t, and if they were paying for a woman’s company a little bit of ego stroking was all part of the service.
‘Well, yes, sort of, but I try not to get myself into a situation where I have to say it . . . unless I mean it.’ When he leant over her, looking into her eyes, she tried to shuffle away a bit, knowing she was in danger of revealing herself. The motion made her wince as the duvet cover scratched her tender bottom.
‘Touché.’ His hand settled on her bare belly, spread fingertips just brushing the edge of her bush. ‘I suppose I’ll never get a straight answer out of you, will I?’
Now was the time to tell him. But she couldn’t quite get the words out. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable with the escort experience. Knowing she wasn’t one would just make things complicated. Especially about the money. She resolved to put most of it aside from now on, to give it back to him eventually, apart from a bit for expenses. If such an obviously wealthy man like him had been courting her properly he would probably have spent far more on gifts and meals and whatnot anyway.
‘What on earth are you thinking about, Bettie? You’re frowning. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were doing your expenses in your head.’
‘No! No way! Sorry . . . I just got a bit distracted. I’m so sorry.’ She tried to sit up, but his hand remained firm upon her, so she reached up and put her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss. His lips were firm, yet evocative with that delicious velvet plushness too. With a dart of his tongue, he responded, kissing her back beautifully. Against her thigh, she felt his erection, still hard as iron.
‘Would you like to fuck now, John?’ She moved herself against him, ignoring the pangs in her bottom. They were fainter now, anyway, amazingly so. He seemed to be something of an artist where spanking was concerned. Maybe he knew how to lay it on without any lasting damage after all? ‘Would you like me to take my clothes off?’ His bare chest looked so nice, and she could only imagine how lovely it would feel to press her bare breasts against him as they embraced.
‘No, not this time.’ He brushed her hair again, then ran a fingertip down the dark lapel of her suit. ‘I’ve a yen to have you while you’re still wearing this. I love women in sexy suits. The more severe looking the better. The contrast between strict, crisp lines and wanton animal horniness really gets me going. The idea of a deliciously hot wet pussy beneath a flannel pencil skirt . . . mmm . . . irresistible.’
‘Mine’s not beneath . . . ah!’ She gasped as he cupped her sex, gripping her roughly, a finger going determinedly for her clit.
‘Near enough,’ he said, a split second before kissing her again and massaging her pussy.
Lizzie writhed on the bed, rubbing her reddened bottom against the duvet, loving both the painful heat there and the heat John was creating between her thighs, playing with her. Whimpers tried to escape from her lips, but he absorbed them with his own, his finger working her tirelessly until she squealed into his mouth, coming intensely.
‘Lie still,’ he said as she lay panting, and she almost laughed. There wasn’t much chance of anything else. She felt sideswiped, and all she could do was watch John as, to her surprise, he wrenched at his soft shirt and almost tore it off, then attacked his jeans.
Naked. He was naked. What a feast.
John Smith’s body was lean and well-formed, beautifully proportioned. He didn’t have the hard-cut muscle of a gym bunny in his twenties, but he was fit and toned, and she wondered what he did to stay that way. Probably a private trainer or two. She immediately felt jealous, hoping he didn’t work out with a woman. Perhaps he swam; that was great for all-over condition.
‘You’re frowning again. I’m not in that bad nick, am I?’ He grinned as he reached beneath the heap of chintz-covered pillows at the head of the bed, for a condom.
‘No, you look great, actually. I was just wondering what you do to keep fit. I should really go to a gym or something myself.’
John paused, condom wrapper half torn open. ‘Well, thank you, Miss Bettie. I suppose you have to say that, because that’s in the whore’s operating manual too. But at my age I’m still flattered.’ He ripped open the package, and rolled on the contraceptive with admirable speed and dexterity, considering he was staring at her thighs, and her belly. ‘And I’d say your own exercise regime is working perfectly. Your body’s magnificent, sweetheart. Sheer perfection.’
Lunging forward, he lay between her thighs, kissing her again and stroking her hair. His weight pressed her to the mattress, stirring her fiery bottom, especially when he rocked his hips against hers, pressing his latex-covered cock between her sex-lips.
‘What do you mean “my age”? You’re not old, you stupid sod!’
Oh my God, why the hell did I say that? What a moment.
John laughed, but his mirth and her tactlessness didn’t seem to hamper proceedings. With a smooth roll of his pelvis, he pushed into her, deep and easy.
‘Well, that’s not the usual sort of remark a man comes to expect just as he’s slipping his cock into a woman, but as it’s you, I’ll let you off. Oh, and by the way, I’m forty-six . . . and a bit.’ Grabbing her bottom mercilessly to adjust his angle, he made her gasp. ‘And please don’t say I don’t look it,’ he finished, bedding himself in to the hilt and burying his face in her hair.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. And anyway, forty-six is nothing. You’re still a young stud in your prime,’ she panted, flexing against him, loving the feel of him inside her, even loving the pangs of pain in her bottom where he held on to her. Her sex clenched around him, ready, ready, ready to ignite into orgasm, she grabbed on to him as hard he held her.
‘Good. I’m glad you think so,’ he said happily, his voice gruff as he manipulated her sore thighs, almost doubling her up, pulling them up to rest on his hips. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to hook her ankles together at the base of his spine. She almost laughed. She was still wearing her high heels. They would dig into him but he didn’t seem to care. Maybe he even liked it? Perhaps he liked feeling pleasure-pain as much as inflicting it?
Now there was a thing . . .
Their bodies raged at each other. John thundered into her; Lizzie bucked up against him, meeting each lunge, pounding her body against his, stimulating herself with the force of her own movements as much as with the furore of his.
He was in deep, so deep. He filled her completely and seemed to fill her more than physically. An emptiness greater than simply that of her sex was stuffed to the brim. Emptiness of her life, disappointments and failures, paths not followed, all were expunged in that moment of completion.
As her orgasm engulfed her, she laughed out loud. Full of a pure, unadulterated happiness that she wasn’t sure she’d experienced since her childhood.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she crooned, enchanted. And it was like an echo bouncing around the chintz-clad room; John chanting the same thing, the very same thing as he powered harder, his hips jerking like an infernal mechanism as he too reached his climax.
Afterwards, for a few seconds, she could barely breathe. Barely think. Only feel.
; I’ve been laid waste to . . . and I love it, love it, love it. I . . .
As she lay holding on to his hot body, and savouring the weight of it, as before, a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Post-coital tristesse, she supposed, but it was no use wanting things to be different.
They were what they were.
5
No Princess Charming
‘I’m sorry. I did it again, didn’t I?’ He heaved himself off her and flopped back onto the bed, at her side.
‘Did what?’
‘Behaved like a slavering beast. Hurled myself at you like an animal.’ He sat up, grinning wryly as he dealt with the condom. ‘You wouldn’t think that I pride myself as a sophisticated lover, would you? I seem to turn into the King of the Jungle the moment I start to fuck you.’
‘I’m not complaining. I like a bit of enthusiasm. And besides, I’m being paid.’ Lizzie hauled herself up too, with some difficulty. She actually did feel a bit like she’d been mauled by a lion, although in the best possible way. Twitching her skirt down from its bundle around her mid-section, she wondered where on earth her knickers had got to. They were really nice ones, among the best she’d ever had. Catering to a high-class ‘punter’ had been an excuse to indulge herself.
Sitting with his arms around his knees, smiling at her, John said, ‘Well, that’s all right, then. But next time, I’ll try to exercise a bit more finesse. And last longer, for one thing. I’m usually pretty good on the stamina front . . . but it’s been a while, and you really are so very beautiful. It’s difficult not to indulge my baser side.’
‘Well, thank you . . . I think.’ She smiled back at him, loving the softer look she saw now in his perceptive blue eyes. His honesty about his own sexual performance was refreshing. And modest. In this quiet moment, it was bizarre to think of the effortless way he’d dominated her, not all that long ago. More and more, he unveiled his complexity.
The Accidental Call Girl Page 6