by Tasha Fawkes
"Watch."
His tone is on the back of my neck again, one hand grabbing a fistful of my hair, forcing my eyes back to the mirror. I watch as his cock slides back and forth between my thighs. When is—
He bends me forward, pressing down on my neck, my arms stretched to their limits. I bite back a gasp as the sudden, rough move startles me. Immediately after, I feel his cock probing my wet slit. My pussy responds.
"Beg for it!"
His voice is the same. This is Daniel, my boss, but hearing him talk like this, in that deeper voice, that rough, guttural voice with an edge to it, I know this is a part of him that he keeps well hidden from ordinary people. I’m excited and a bit awed at the same time.
"Beg for it! Beg for my cock to dive in!"
"Please, Master," I respond dutifully, meaning it. "Dive in!"
Once again his cock disappears, as do both his hands from my body. His lips find my shoulder, that spot between the base of my neck and the top of my shoulder, and he nibbles. He uses his teeth, scraping them along my flesh. I know he’ll be careful not to leave marks, at least not obvious ones. More goose bumps. I pant with anticipation. I hear him tear something open and recognize the sound. A condom. Thank goodness one of us is thinking. I didn’t even give it a thought. Not just about protecting myself from an unwanted pregnancy, but an STD. Maybe that's something we should've talked about before, but—
Both his hands grab my shoulders press me down and forward. Once again, my shoulders ache at the stretching. My head immediately drops downward, but he grabs my hair again, forcing my head up.
"Watch!"
I do, embarrassed and fascinated at the same time. I’ve never watched myself having sex before. I’ve never watched— His head probes between my legs for several moments, and then pauses.
"Beg for it!"
His voice is gravelly, strained, as if he’s holding himself back. "Take me, Master!" I gasp. "Please!"
He obliges. With one, single, hard thrust, he enters me. Fills me completely, almost painfully. It feels like I’m not big enough for him, that I can't hold him, but once he’s inside, he pauses, giving me time to adjust. Not nearly long enough. I want to relish this moment, but he’s the one in control.
His hips begin to thrust. His dick slides nearly all the way out and then surges upward again. Hard. Forceful. I wince, but try not to make a sound. I hear the slick, wet sounds of him entering and withdrawing. Hear the sound of his balls slapping against my ass and upper thighs. I want to touch him, to grab that huge cock, but I’m bound and unable to move. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to—I have to distract myself or I’ll finish before he does. I force my eyes to watch his face. So fierce now, so handsome. Both of his hands grip my shoulders, hard, both of us staring into the mirror, watching as he pumps into me. My knees want to sag, but his grip tightens. I keep my eyes riveted to his face, see his jaw clench, then his chin lifts slightly as he rocks his hips, slows down his pace only slightly, and then, in three more pumps, he climaxes.
I’m not sure if I can let go now, if I can—
His cock still captures inside me, he moves his hands off my shoulders, wraps them around my waist and once again cups my breasts. This time his fingers massage, twirl, and gently pluck and twist. One hand continues to tweak my breasts while his other roams straight down my belly until he cups my mound. I watch him fingering my nub and that's all it takes. Punishment and pleasure. Pleasure and punishment—two more strokes and I feel waves washing over me. Blinding, breathtaking, white flashes of waves. Waves of pleasure wash through me, around me, and have my head swimming.
I’ve never, ever experienced anything like this. I want more. So much more.
Thirteen
Daniel
In the past few hours, I introduced Ashley to several of the gadgets in my playroom, and after using the devices on her, explained several naïve mistakes she made in her manuscript regarding a number of scenes in her book. I have to admit that I’m impressed. She’s an eager and willing student. I can't even begin to count how many women I have fucked over the years, but there’s something different about Ashley. It isn’t just the fact that I, an expert, am introducing her to this new world.
It’s that we seem to connect on a level I didn’t expect. Her body seemed to sense what I needed before I did. She enticed me in ways others haven’t, and she wasn't doing it on purpose. She’s a natural. Her passion is unmistakable. No, her breasts aren't extraordinarily large; rather they are a large B cup, maybe venturing into C territory. But more than a handful is a waste anyway, right?
I don't think my reaction to our playtime had anything to do with the fact that I had never done this with her, either. I never tutored anyone before. I had many encounters with women I had never met before, nor after. But there is something about Ashley that just seems so fresh, so… I can't even name it.
She dresses slowly. I watch. Now the shyness has returned. Not overt, but I sense it. Perhaps even a touch embarrassed, but she’s game. I like that about her. That mixture of naivete with such a zest for adventure. Coy shyness that’s natural, not faked. Her pleasure wasn’t faked either. I know that she gained pleasure from our exercises. I also gained pleasure. It was a win-win.
I went so far as to contemplate inviting her to the bondage club. I've never even considered bringing someone to the club. I never really felt like I needed to. I get everything I want there and then some. Plenty of women and couples looking for partners. For different kinds of sex. No questions. No demands, no strings.
This thing with Ashley, this feeling she gives me… I feel relaxed. It’s more than just getting my rocks off. I actually enjoy spending time with her. Today wasn't so much about release as it was in exploration, seeing this world through fresh eyes. Usually after a scene, I’m ready to go. I hate lingering. I despise women who want to linger with me afterward. Crystal learned early on that our interactions were about one thing and one thing only. Fast, hard, hot sex. She wanted to be dominated and I wanted to dominate. With Ashley, it’s a bit different. Yes, I’m still her Dom and she my sub, but there’s a sweetness about her, something that I can't quite wrap my mind around.
I realize I’m lingering. Taking pleasure in just watching her get dressed. I watch every move, every tilt of her head, the way her hair drapes over her face as she bends slightly to don her pants. I watch her fingers as they slip on her tennis shoes. I smile. This is a new feeling, and I like it. I don't want it to be over.
Thoughts of work, of my mother, of Karen, of the demands everyone place on me are gone. I’m just living in the moment and enjoying every second of it. Ashley stands and turns to me. She isn't sure if she can approach or whether she should stay until I tell her she can move.
"I'm just Daniel now, Ashley," I say. "Come over here."
She does, smiling hesitantly, glancing at me and then quickly glancing away. Her cheeks are still flushed, her eyes glistening. "So, what do you think?"
She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, slightly shaking her head before trying again.
"I— I was surprised by a few things, and I was more than startled a couple of times, but I liked it."
She’s honest too. This world is still new to her. No amount of research can compare to the real thing. "You think you learned a few things along the way?"
"Yes, I did. And you're right. If I'm going to write about it, I have to know what it all feels like. The thoughts that goes through your mind when…" she pauses. "I'm blabbering," she admits, offering a slight shrug.
I know her well enough now to know that the slight shrug is a sign of awkward embarrassment. "No, you're not blabbering. I want you to benefit from these… lessons," I say. "It will make your writing better."
She dips her eyes and nods, not looking me in the eye. What is that? Disappointment? I’m not going to tell her that this has been one of the most invigorating afternoons I’ve spent in a long time. I’m not going to tell her that I enjoyed myself supremely, that she
was a most willing pupil, and a good one at that. I can’t go there. She has to know that this—our sexual encounters—are just that. Sex.
Is that the only reason I brought her down here to my playroom? It was part of it, yes, but after reading her manuscript, I couldn't deny my curiosity. Only part of my curiosity was assuaged this afternoon. There is so much more to learn about Ashley— I stop myself right there, straighten, and gesture toward the stairs. "We should go."
No. I absolutely cannot get involved emotionally with Ashley. As I watch her walk across the basement floor toward the stairs, I realize with surprise that keeping my distance will be a challenge. Especially after what we just did. She made it possible for me to feel completely relaxed and at peace. I can't remember the last time that I felt this way.
While it would be interesting to take her to the club, I also decide that she isn't even close to being ready for such an adventure. One step at a time. We walk upstairs and at the landing I gesture down the short hallway toward the kitchen. "There's a bathroom just off the kitchen if you need to… use it or clean up or anything."
She smiles and nods. "Thank you, I'll just be a moment."
She walks off down the hallway, her tennis shoes barely making any noise on the wood floor. No sharp clack of heels that usually grated on my nerves as I waited for my subs to leave. I follow her several moments later and enter the kitchen area, where I open the refrigerator and pull out two cans of diet soda. I pop one open and chug down half of it before she emerges, her hair slightly damp, her face fresh. Holding my half empty can of soda, I gesture toward the other one.
"Thirsty?"
She smiles and reaches for it. "Thanks," she says, popping the lid.
If she’s surprised I offered her a soda and not a drink, she doesn't acknowledge it. She takes several sips and glances around, trying not to be overt about it.
"Would you like a tour?"
Her eyes widen but she nods. She takes a sip and then places the can back on the counter.
"You can bring it with you," I say. Sipping from my own can, I give her the grand tour. Another first for me. Not one of my subs, not one, have ever been allowed past the kitchen door and into the rest of the house. In fact, the kitchen bathroom is as far as any of my previous "guests" have roamed in this house. I’ve never offered any of them anything, not even a glass of water. The basement playroom is one thing, but the rest of this house is my private domain. One I keep to myself. This place is only for me. Not Karen. Not Crystal. Not anyone. But I find myself wanting to share it with Ashley.
I shove thoughts of Karen out of my head. Playing the gracious host as I give Ashley a tour, listening to her murmurs of appreciation in regard to the structure, the décor, and the overall ambience. She laughs softly as we return to the kitchen.
"What?" I ask, honestly wanting to know. Another first.
"I think I can fit my entire apartment into your living room," she comments. "You have a lovely home here, Daniel."
I can tell she wants to ask. Why I keep the house a secret. She’s a smart girl. I'm sure she can figure that one out on her own.
She takes a last sip of her soda and then places the nearly empty can back down on the counter. She's had enough. I reach for it, tip the can upside down into the sink, and listen to the remainder trickle downward. I follow suit with my own, then toss both cans in the trashcan under the sink.
"Let's go."
We make our way back outside to my car. "You want me to drop you back at the hotel or the office, or do you want me to take you home?"
She hesitates only a second. "Can you take me back to the hotel? I have a few errands I need to run in the neighborhood anyway."
I nod, somewhat relieved that she didn’t taken me up on my offer to take her to her apartment. I feel torn. Torn between wanting to get to know her on a deeper level and wanting to keep her at arm's length. No entanglements. No promises. No strings.
Fourteen
Ashley
It’s New Year's Eve. I haven't heard from Daniel in a couple of days, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or whether I’m expecting too much. My introduction into genuine bondage down in his basement playroom in his secret house left me tingling for an entire day. He dropped me off at the hotel like I asked, but I didn't really have any errands to run. I just didn't want him taking me to my apartment. I didn't want him to see where I lived. Didn't want him to realize that I wasn't his type after all.
I wasn't embarrassed, as I like my apartment, but compared to that house of his? It’s like comparing peanut butter to caviar. Face it. I’m a simple girl. Not typically impressed by wealth or material things, I felt myself rendered somewhat speechless while Daniel gave me a tour of his home. Well, not really his home, because I do believe he spends most of the time in his penthouse apartment downtown.
Still, I’ve crushed on the man for such a long time. Being given a glimpse into his world, aboveground and then to his basement playroom, gave me a deeper glimpse into this person that I’ve admired secretly and from afar for so long. I admire and respect him as a publisher, but until a couple of days ago, I didn’t even imagine the various facets of who Daniel Stone really, truly is.
I like him even more for it. Dammit, I can't allow myself to get any more emotionally involved with him than I already am, and that’s entirely one-sided as it is. I have to know where to draw the line between the fantasy I developed within the pages of my manuscript to the reality of life.
"Did you hear me, Ashley?"
I’m jolted from my reverie, the steady beat of the party music once again pounding inside my brain. I’m at Tory's, at her annual New Year's Eve party. It’s crowded, almost claustrophobic in her packed apartment. Does she really know all these people? It seems like it. While I’m not much for partying, I need a distraction. Usually, I spend New Year's Eve alone, preferring to watch the shows on TV, and sometimes even to go to bed before the ball drops. This year, no. I need to be surrounded by people, by the music, the dancing, and yes, even some harmless flirting.
I know I’m allowing myself to get too wrapped up in Daniel. The past couple of days, I’ve barely gone ten minutes without thinking of him. I can't do that. Not only is it not part of our "deal", but I can't allow myself to go falling in love with him. It would be so incredibly easy. I’ve admired him for so long, secretly created this fantasy life with him, that after the basement, those feelings burgeoned even deeper. Without even trying, he hooked me. I want to continue exploring his world, to spend time with him, but I can't get clingy. If I do, I don't doubt for a moment that he’ll cut me loose.
"Ashley!"
"What?" I finally reply.
"Here comes Stewart!" Tory says, pointing.
I see Stewart enter the apartment, doing his impersonation of John Travolta in Grease. It used to be funny, but now it’s just embarrassing. He looks like he's already had a few. His gaze sweeping the crowded room, he finally sees me, lifts a hand, and begins pushing his way through the crowd in my direction.
I smile politely as he approaches, wraps his arms around me, and plants a wet kiss on my lips. His breath smells of beer and whiskey. I responds only slightly, thinking that at some point, I have to break this thing off with him. It isn't going anywhere. Not where I want to go, anyway. I know he wants a more serious relationship, but the thought of spending a life with Stewart is just… sad.
At some point, I need to make it clear to him that not only am I not interested in marriage, but we aren't in an exclusive relationship either. He has no idea how I feel about Daniel, and I’m not about to tell him.
It’s impossible not to compare the two now. Different as night and day, not only in the sex department, but in persona. Stewart is a nice guy. He really is. There’s only one way I can think to put it. Stewart is vanilla, and I want Rocky Road. Stewart is plain and boring; at least that's how I feel at this point in my life. I want texture, adventure, and never knowing when I’ll bite into a marshmallow or a nut, or just en
joy the silky smoothness and flavor of smooth chocolate.
I sigh. I don't want to hurt Stewart, but I also feel that stringing him along isn't fair to him nor myself. But not right now. I can't tell him tonight. The countdown has started. Less than two minutes until midnight. At the minute mark, Tory turns off the music.
"Watch the clock, everyone!"
Everyone in the room turns and begins to count down. I join in, feigning exuberant joy over a new year, Stewart beside me. One arm draped over my shoulder, his other hand reaches for mine. He squeezes, but I don't squeeze back.
Thirty seconds until the new year. A new year. New adventures. New hopes and dreams. A fresh start. Letting go of the baggage, I can think of a million ways to express how I feel at this moment, but all I can do is watch the second hand count down on the clock. I feel Stewart's eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him, pretending that I’m enraptured by that second hand, slowly clicking down to the ten-second mark.
The room bursts with excitement as everyone begins to count down the last ten seconds of the old year, preparing to ring in the new. At the stroke of midnight, everyone cheers, laughs, and claps. Stewart turns me toward him and wraps me in his arms, kissing me. I kiss him back, but my heart just isn't in it.
"Come home with me," he says, practically having to shout to be heard over the revelry. "Let's ring in the new year together!"
I shake my head and decline. "I'm sorry, Stewart, but not tonight." I should tell him the truth, but I can't, not right now. Instead, I lie. "I promised my dad I'd drop by."
"I'll go with you—"
"Thanks, Stewart, but no. I'm just going to stay for a minute, and then I'm going to go home and crash. I'm exhausted."
I see his disappointment, but I stick to my guns. I have to start breaking away, and the longer I draw this out, the worse it will be for both of us.